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rendevousz · 3 years

Text

sick

avengers x gn!teen!reader

platonic!peter parker x reader

requested by @sunflowerbecca : "hey! a request with the whole teen avengers thing you got gotten on haha, anyways something where the reader gets hurt or faints etc etc and then the rest of the avengers are all worried and frantic as they care for them"

summary: there was a consequence of going on a mission while you were sick

warnings: mentions of throwing up and a tiny fight with bestfriend!peter, avengers babying you as usual

word count: roughly 5k words of utter bullshit me thinks but pls do give this a read LMAO

notes: i'm sorry this took longer to write i was unexpectedly busy on the weekends but here i am i hope you enjoy this <3

"stark, you sure about this?"

"of course i'm sure, capsicle. the kids have been bugging us to let them go on a mission together. i know it's because they just want to mess around without being scolded but this is the easiest mission we've ever gotten since the avengers. besides, they've been pretty good lately so i think they deserve it. don't you guys think so?"

his question was met with approving looks all over the room, except from steve. the whole team except the teens —you and peter— were having a meeting about a simple mission that was supposed to happen that night. you and peter weren't in the meeting because you two were still at school.

it had been months since you and peter started asking the team to let you guys go on missions alone without "adult supervision". it was true that you guys wanted that just so you could do missions without feeling like you were being babysat but it was also because you guys thought that you weren't kids anymore; you could handle simple missions.

"c'mon cap, don't you want to see their face light up when we tell them they can go on this mission together, without us?" clint urged. he knew steve loved the kids, especially you, and he especially loved seeing the way your eyes would light up first before you whole face did.

"okay, fine. but if anything happens to them, you guys are to blame for."

–

school had just finished and you were walking back to the tower with peter. you've been having a killer headache all day and you felt nauseous. you even went to the washroom to throw up twice today. of course you didn't tell peter because he was that type of overprotective best friend who would make you get home if you sneezed more than three times that day. all you wanted to do today was get home quick so you could sleep the sickness away.

yes, you knew you were sick. but you didn't want to tell anyone because like peter, the whole team was overprotective over you and they usually did too much when you were sick. so you avoided that by just acting like you were okay. that was going well so far since all you had to do when you get home was go to your room and tell them you stayed up late last night and needed to catch up on sleep.

of course that didn't go well.

"y/n!" you groaned when peter entered your room uninvited, immediately jumping onto your bed. "yes, pete?" you croaked. his joyful expression turned into a frown when he heard you. "what's wrong? are you okay?"

"yes, pete, i'm okay. just super sleep deprived." you lied, cringing when you felt your head throb once again. "oh.. did you..did you want to sleep? am i interrupting?" he asked, feeling bad. "no, no. it's fine, what did you want?"

"i just came to tell you that mr stark and the team are finally gonna let us go on a mission without them! there's one tonight and they're letting us go alone!" he announced excitedly. you couldn't help the small smile that appeared on your lips when he said that. his happiness was just so contagious.

"but if you wanna sleep then i'll just go with any one of them, i guess," he shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant face but you knew he was internally begging you to come with. after all, you guys have been asking for this for the longest time.

you look at his hopeful face —one that he thought he was concealing very well— and sighed, flashing him a small smile. "fine, it's friday anyways so there's no school tomorrow. but you're buying me food tomorrow for postponing my catchup on beauty sleep," that is, if you can stomach the food, considering how you've thrown up almost anything you had for the past two days.

the thought of this mission going awry because of you being sick was almost immediately forgotten when you saw the huge smile on peter's face. he pulled you into a tight hug before letting go to jump on your bed. "we're finally gonna go on a mission alone!"

you laugh at his excitement though you wished he could lower down his volume because it was making your head hurt.

later that evening, you were in your room, sitting on the bed after having just finished putting on your suit when a knock was heard. after telling the person to come in, you met eyes with a certain blond haired super-soldier.

"hey, y/n." he greets, sitting down beside you. "hey, steve," you responded with a weak voice. he turned to you with a frown and you knew what was coming. "i'm fine, steve. i already had this conversation with pete. i just need sleep but i can get that after this mission. i'm not gonna be fine though if you wake me up at the crack of dawn to train when you know i just had a late night mission." you sassed, causing him to chuckle.

"okay, fine. i'm just worried about you two. you sure you're gonna be fine? don't need me to come along?" he asked, concern written all over his face.

"yes, steve. pete's been wanting a mission without you old folks for the longest time and i'm not gonna disappoint him by making you come along. we'll be fine, stevie. we're not little kids, we're avengers. we can handle finding a random chip in an abandoned building," you reasoned with him.

"it's not a rando— you know what? just be back home safe, okay kiddo?" he ruffled your hair, earning him a playful glare from you.

the swing trip to the mission location had you even more nauseous than you were earlier today and earlier today was worse than yesterday when the symptoms of your fever all started. you almost let go of peter because your body felt weak and now you were getting an earful from the boy.

"y/n, what were you thinking?! you could've gotten hurt!" he scolded you. you only looked down in guilt, biting the inside of your cheeks. "can we not do this now? let's talk about this back at the tower tomorrow," you waved him off, already beginning to feel the pounding headache getting worse. you started to walk ahead but then he gripped your upper arm, effectively halting you in your steps.

"y/n, if i hadn't grabbed onto you tighter the last minute, you could've plummeted 100 feet down to your death! did you know how scared i was?" his voice cracked and you immediately felt bad.

"you know you need to hold on too when i'm swinging us both! why'd you do that?" he yelled at you and you had to press onto your temple because of the headache that was steadily getting worse.

"look, pete, i'm really sorry about that, okay? that was unintentional but if you're gonna berate me over that, can you do that back at the tower?" you sighed, trying to shrug his grip off your arm but he kept it.

"you don't know the true weight of your actions, do you? you could've died, y/n! how do you think i would feel? being the reason my best friend died? having to go on with life without you? i can't lose you, y/n!" at this point, you could tell he was crying under his mask.

you felt bad. you knew you shouldn't have agreed to go on this mission knowing that you had been sick for the past two days. but you couldn't have let the opportunity pass. you couldn't bear to see peter disappointed after waiting for this moment for the longest time ever. but standing here, looking down as peter yelled at you while crying, you were starting to think that it was better to just see his disappointment. anything was better than seeing your best friend cry.

"pete, i truly am sorry. i love you and i would never leave you. but can we please get this mission over and done with so we can get back to the tower as soon as possible? we'll talk about this later," you told him and you immediately felt him let go of your arm.

"okay, fine! since you wanna get the mission done so bad, let's do it! i'll take the east side of the building and you'll take west. we'll split up so can find the goddamn chip quicker. that's what you want right?" and before you could say anything, the boy was already out of your sight.

you tried to keep your tears at bay but when that was the first huge argument you had with your best friend, it was kind of an impossible task.

so with your weak muscles and a breakdown that caused your headache to get even worse, you slowly trudged the west side of the building, looking for that stupid chip that the team wanted you to find.

you were beginning to think that the only reason the team sent you both here was because to find a tiny little chip in a huge abandoned building was like finding a needle in a haystack; definitely not something adults like them could bear to do.

but it obviously wouldn't have mattered to you and peter since you guys could do it peacefully without being pestered every two minutes about your whereabouts during missions. it obviously wouldn't have mattered to you and peter because if that argument hadn't broken out, you two would be enjoying each others company as you looked for the chip together. you could've been singing and joking around like you two wanted to. but of course that couldn't happen because of you.

you stopped in your tracks when a particularly harsh wave of migraine hit you, causing you to lean against the wall. your vision blurred as you tried hard to clear it but it wouldn't. your throat was dry and it made you think; when was the last time you drank water? you barely had energy in you from skipping meals due to your inability to stomach them.

now you were actually regretting coming on this mission. the last thing you saw was the dirty walls decorated with spray painted graffiti.

"oh my god, is this it? KAREN, is this it?" peter asked his built in AI. "yes, peter, this chip matches the picture that mr stark sent you."

"yes!" he cheered, grabbing the chip and storing it safely. "this mission probably would've been a lot more fun if y/n and i weren't fighting. we would've had so much fun. these walls had countless of stuff we could've laughed and joked about." the boy sighed before pressing a finger to his comms.

"hey i uh, i found the chip. where are you? we can go now." he said, waiting for you to respond. but you didn't. "c'mon, y/n, it's been two hours. you can't still be giving me the silent treatment, are you?"

silence.

"look, i'm sorry for lashing out on you but like you said, let's settle this at the tower. tell me where you are. i'll come get you and we can swing back as soon as possible."

silence.

"goddamnit, y/n! answer me!" he huffed out in annoyance. and when he was met with silence once again, he decided to have KAREN do a scan.

"y/n is at the exact same spot you landed on two hours ago." KAREN showed him the scan of the building and highlighted where you guys landed on two hours ago. he felt his heart race when you seemed to be lying on the ground, motionless.

"what's wrong with them, KAREN? why is y/n lying on the floor?" he asked in concern as he sped up to where you were. "y/n seems to have lost consciousness. according to FRIDAY, they have been showing symptoms of a high fever since yesterday."

peter cursed as he ran towards you when he saw you from afar. how could he have not noticed that you were sick? and it wasn't a simple cold but a high fever. now he was the one who felt bad. he should've suspected it from how different you had been acting since yesterday. that must've also been the reason you couldn't hold on to him properly.

he immediately crouched down to you when he reached you, examining your body for any external injuries. he cringed when he saw dried blood on the side of your forehead. you must've scraped it upon impact on the rough concrete.

"how long have they been out?" he asked KAREN as he picked you up. he proceeded to web you onto his body as extra precaution in case he accidentally let go while he swung. "approximately 2 hours, peter. right after you stormed away angrily."

"okay, KAREN, there's no need to make me feel bad. can you call mr stark?" peter asks the AI as he frantically swings you both back to the tower.

"kid? what's up? did you find the chip?" peter could hear the background rock music being lowered down and from the metal on metal clanking, he could tell tony was in his lab.

"i did but can you, uh, please get medic ready?" he was breathless as he kept swinging from building to building all while holding onto your unconscious body. immediately the metal tinkering sounds as well as the music completely stopped.

"what happened, kid? are you alright?"

"i'm okay, mr stark. it's y/n. they fainted." he told the man. "fainted?" the man exclaimed. "what happened? how long were they out?" he urged the boy and peter could hear that he was walking quickly and he assumed it was to get the medic team ready and to inform them of the situation.

"2 hours," he admitted quietly as he landed on the tower's hangar. "i'm here. i'm bringing them down now." he ran down towards the hospital wing with you in his arms.

once he reached down, he was met with the team waiting, worry etched onto their faces. wanda was the first to notice him and peter saw that her eyes were teary. before he could say anything though, the medic team appeared and proceeded to cut off his webs wrapping you to him. they immediately put you onto the stretcher and they wheeled you into the room, peter's gaze lingering on your unconscious self once he took off his mask.

"what happened out there, kid?" sam asked softly when peter slid down against the wall, staring expressionlessly at the wall across of him. "peter."

"we had a fight, okay!" he let out, taking the team by surprise because he was always such a calm and patient boy. they had never seen him this angry or upset since they first met him.

"we were swinging and their grip on me loosened so i got mad at them. but they kept pushing the matter aside like it wasn't a big deal, like it wasn't a life or death situation so i lashed out and decided that we should split up to look for the stupid chip since they wanted to get back to the tower so bad." he explained, eyes red as he had been crying a lot that night.

"i tried apologising like ten minutes after but y/n didn't respond so i assumed they were giving me the silent treatment but i found them unconscious two hours later. i'm so sorry," he apologised, breaking down as he put his face in between his knees to avoid looking at the team. they were probably mad at him for letting this happen to you.

"kid, why are you apologising? it's not your fault,"

he slowly lifted his head up, to meet the kind smiles of the team. "because the only reason y/n probably went on this mission was because they knew how much i wanted this. they put their own well-being aside just to make me happy and all i did was lash out at them."

"how were you supposed to know y/n had a high fever? we all didn't know either. it's not like we spend every waking hour with th—" clint was immediately cut off when nat nudged him with her elbow. peter had an unamused expression on his face. everyone knew you and peter were practically attached at the hip, always having training, and not to mention, school together. you two even spent your free time together.

"what clint means," nat glared at the archer. "is that it doesn't matter how much time or how little time we spend with y/n. that kid is stubborn as a bull. they could literally have been shot and we wouldn't know until we actually see the wound. my point is, y/n's the type that doesn't want to worry us. and you're their best friend, they knew how much you wanted this mission so that's probably why they didn't tell you. you can't blame yourself for this, peter."

"i know but they did this for me and i got mad at them. they're a much better friend to me than i am to them." peter dropped his head back down between his knees.

before any of them could respond, doctor cho approached them. "as you all know, they have a high fever. i suggest you all come visit tomorrow because they most probably won't wake until then."

"okay, will do. thank you, doc." the doctor smiled before excusing herself. peter then got up to go back to his room to wash up after handing tony the chip.

tony could only sigh when he looked at the boy's back that was growing smaller as he walked farther away.

the next day, you woke up with a terrible headache but you had gotten used to it from the past two mornings.

"good, you're awake. how do you feel?"

you squinted to get used to the bright lighting and your gaze settled on the female doctor by your bed with a clipboard. "like shit." you croaked out. she chuckled. "that's expected. your fever has calmed down now, do you feel anything else?"

"this headache makes me want to rip my head out and i feel weak." she nodded, jotting down on her clipboard. "okay. that's all i needed to know. you should come to us if you're ever unwell, y/n." you gave her a guilty smile before nodding.

"there's a glass of water on the table if you want. the team wants to see you so i'll send them in?" you nodded and she left to bring them in. you looked at the bedside table, seeing the glass of water she mentioned and only now you realised how dry your throat had been. how you managed to verbally respond to doctor cho, you didn't know.

you slowly reached out for it, struggling because your whole body felt weak. "y/n! stay in bed, i'll get it for you." you heard a stern voice scold and you immediately fell limp on the bed.

before you knew it, steve was already by your side with the glass of water. he held your face in one hand while the other held the glass near your mouth. you smiled gratefully and took your time drinking the water, having been dehydrated before you passed out.

"you're still burning up," he noted, settling down on the chair beside you. the rest sat down too and you couldn't be bothered to ask how the heck were there so many chairs in the room. "how are you feeling, y/n/n?" bruce asked, sitting down across steve.

"like shit." you repeated your answer to doctor cho. before steve could open his mouth to tell you to watch your language, you turned to him with a bored look and a raised eyebrow, causing him to close his mouth immediately. boy, were you scary when you weren't about to take anyone's shit.

"why didn't you tell us you were sick, bubs?" wanda pouted, fixing your hair that you were sure looked like a bird's nest at the moment.

"i didn't want to worry you guys. you're adults who have much more important things to worry about. a kid throwing up and experiencing headaches shouldn't be your priority." you admitted, subconsciously playing with nat's fingers. she had gotten used to you doing that when you were nervous or overwhelmed so she let you.

"what are you talking about, y/n?" she held onto your hand, stoping your movements. "anything related to your safety and well-being is a priority to us. you had us worried sick last night, bub." she looked down at you with soft eyes, releasing her grip on your hands so you could continue playing with her fingers.

"yes, you worried us lots, y/n. wanda would not stop crying last night when she heard what happened." vision said, prompting a smack from said woman and a hushed 'vis!'.

"i'm sorry, guys. i initially was just going to stay in my room until i got better but when peter told me about the mission, i couldn't bear to say no to him. he was so happy about it and i didn't want to disappoint him. and i thought i could take it because it literally was the simplest mission ever. but the breakdown i had after our argument was physically draining and i guess i couldn't take it. i'm sorry. god, i only didn't want to disappoint peter but now i've disappointed you guys too." you bit the inside of your cheek to control your emotions, not wanting to seem even weaker in front of these adult superheroes.

"you didn't disappoint us, y/n/n," bucky started. "you've done so well, you've made us proud and you keep making us proud. we just wish you would tell us when you're sick or you just need someone. you don't have to keep everything to yourself. what are we here for? we love you and we're willing to do anything for you. you're our baby." he ruffled your hair and you give him a tired smile. "i'll keep that in mind."

"do you want anything to eat?" sam asked and you paused, trying to figure out whether you would be able to stomach some food or not. "you know what? i'm gonna go and make you some porridge right now. don't move." he told you, as if you could move with these overprotective heroes surrounding your bed.

almost immediately after, wanda got up too. "i'm going to make sure he doesn't burn the kitchen down." she said, leaving the room after a small peck to the side of your head. vision then left too after wishing you a speedy recovery. only bucky, steve, natasha and bruce were left.

"y/n, you know you can come to us if you're sick, right? i know you and you probably think you're troubling doctor cho if you go to her despite it being her job. but we're family, you can come to us anytime. you always help me when with 'the other guy' and you help everyone with basically anything they could possibly need so why wouldn't we do the same for you? you out of everyone in this tower deserves the most." your eyes watered at his speech. you pouted and looked at him with your doe eyes, making the rest of the team internally coo at how adorable you looked.

"bruce," you lower lip jutted out even more as you opened your arms for a hug which he happily accepted. "hey where's clint, tony and pete?" you asked them once you let go of bruce.

"clint went out to get your favourite smoothie from that place you always talk about even though i told him already that you probably don't want it since you're sick." natasha explained. "aw, i think i'm gonna drink it solely because clint made an effort to get it for me."

"you're too nice, bub. but expect it in an hour or so because i know for sure that idiot somehow got himself lost trying to find that shop." you chuckled at this, leaning back against your propped up pillow. "what about tony and pete?"

"peter feels really bad about this whole situation so tony is trying to cheer him up. wait," steve stopped mid-explanation, turning to the rest. "stark told us to get him when y/n's up..." he trailed off and bucky's eyes widened. "he's gonna kill us for him not being the first person y/n sees when they wake up."

"FRIDAY, inform stark that y/n is awake."

"oh yeah he has an AI why couldn't he just tell the AI to inform him instead of us forgetful humans?" bucky questioned rhetorically and before they knew it, they heard frantic screaming and thudding of footsteps before the door was open.

"my baby! you're awake!" was the first thing you heard when the door slammed open. tony rushed in, pushing bruce away as he immediately pulled you into a hug. "you're still burning up, cupcake. have you had anything to eat yet? drank any water yet? here have some water," he grabbed the glass of water steve helped you drink earlier and did exactly what steve did. you had no choice but to drink.

"sam's making them porridge," nat told tony and he turned to her with an incredulous look. "wanda's helping." she added and he sighed out in relief before turning back to you.

"cupcake, you had us all worried last night. please don't ever do that again, okay?" he said, gently caressing your cheek. you gave him an awkward smile. "where's peter?"

"he's taking a swing. he says it helps clear his mind," tony said. "how are you doing here? nice room? comfy bed?" he pointed to the bed you were on.

"i'd much rather be in my own room, on my own bed." and without a warning, steve already had you in his arms while tony went to go tell doctor cho that you were being moved. the blond super-soldier started walking while natasha walked closely behind, dragging your IV drip along so it doesn't get ripped out of your arm.

when you reached your room, you were gently put down on your bed and steve fixed your blanket so it was covering you. "comfy?" he asked and you nodded with a big smile.

"i have to finish some stuff up down the lab," bruce said and you nodded at him with a pout. "i'll come back sometime later, though. you better be resting up all day." he warned jokingly. he ruffled your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead before leaving your room.

"can you tell pete that i want to see him when he comes back?" you told tony and he immediately sent out a text to your best friend.

after about an hour of just steve, nat and tony entertaining you, sam came back with wanda with the porridge and tony insisted that he feed you or you he wasn't going to let you see peter.

"alright, bub, i think you should really get some rest now. you can barely keep your eyes open," nat says, already getting up with your empty bowl of porridge. "we'll tell spiderboy you're asleep."

"okay," you mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut. you felt every single one of them give you a forehead kiss and then you were out like light.

when you woke up later that day, you felt much better than you did the last time you woke up. you decided that you now had enough energy to take a quick shower so you did. once you were done, you dried your hair while humming to a random song before the door opening interrupted you.

your eyes met with peter's guilty ones. "h–hey, you're awake," he stated and you nodded with a small smile, sitting on your bed and peter doing the same.

"look, y/n/n, i'm really sorry about what happened. i shouldn't have lashed out on you witho—"

"pete," you cut him off. "don't apologise. i'd be mad too if you did something as stupid as that." you reasoned. "yeah but it's not like you did it on purpose! you had a valid reason and i got mad at you for it." he spoke in frustration.

"dude, stop. i'm the one who's supposed to be sorry. i should've just told you i was sick. but i didn't want to upset you because you've been waiting for this for the longest time. but i ruined it for you. i'm sorry, pete." you rested your head on his shoulder and he rested his on top of yours.

"i wanna say that i'm the one at fault but then this conversation won't end until like next week so let's just say we're both at fault, yeah? you need to start telling people what's happening with you and i need to be better at reading you." he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a hug. you hugged him back. "okay."

the door then opened, revealing bucky with his stupid shit-eating grin and you knew what was coming. you let go of peter and immediately you were lifted off the bed and over bucky's shoulders as he excitedly chanted about team movie night.

the night was spent watching a movie with the team you considered your family and them pampering you even more than they usually did (which, frankly, was still too much) since you were sick.

and right when the movie ended and everyone was preparing to head in, the door to the common room slammed open and a disheveled clint entered, holding a single cup of smoothie.

"got your smoothie, y/n/n!"

#avengers #avengers x teen!reader #peter parker x reader #tony stark x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #avengers fluff #avengers x reader #fluff #bucky barnes x teen!reader

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

two can keep a secret

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: What is the difference between a secret and a lie? Jason Todd is in love. But will his relationship survive when Y/N realizes she doesn’t know him at all?

Word Count: 9,500+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of rape, domestic violence, and murder

She is the first thing he thinks of when he slowly comes to.

Not her face, like some glowing angel that you always see in those stupid movie montages, where the protagonist’s wife or girlfriend tragically died and he’s thinking of her.

No, Jason is thinking about how pissed Y/N’s going to be when he misses date night.

Jason didn’t need to go out to a fancy restaurant or cocktail bar to be content. Doing absolutely nothing with Y/N was more than enough for him. But she deserved more than that – not that she ever said so. Jason was the one who insisted on taking her out every so often. So he sucked it up and did anything to make that woman smile. It didn’t hurt that Y/N was too talented at dolling herself up.

Y/N was probably sitting with her hair curled and her makeup done to perfection (after watching a YouTube tutorial for a look she had been wanting to try for weeks). Or, depending on how much time had passed, she had given up and bitterly changed into her pajamas.

The other unfortunate fact was that Y/N still didn’t know that Jason had a double life. She had zero idea that her boyfriend of a few months was also the infamous Red Hood.

So, yeah, Y/N was going to be pissed, thinking that Jason simply forgot about date night or just completely blew her off.

Just when Jason was fighting the migraine to open his eyes, someone kicked his shins roughly.

“I know you’re awake,” someone sang to him.

Jason blinked and squinted, realizing that his helmet was still intact.

Well, that’s one positive.

He looked at the man standing just a few feet away from him. Decked out in a fancy green suit, horned rimmed glasses, and that stupid little bowler hat.

The Riddler.

Jason always found him to be mostly an inconvenience. But clearly he’d done something to piss off the annoying genius, because this was a lot of effort on his part.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jason growled, knowing his voice sounded even more dangerous with his helmet distorting it.

Riddler smiled and put his arms behind his back. “You have become rather troublesome, Red Hood.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Jason answered with sarcasm.

But Jason hadn’t been interfering with the Riddler for quite some time, so he was still rather confused what was going on.

“Our mutual friend is quite tired of you meddling with his business. Also, it’s not cheap to replace all of his goons you keep murdering.”

Jason tilted his head. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

Riddler narrowed his eyes with slight annoyance. “Why the Clown Prince of Crime, of course.” Jason’s body tensed at the name and the Riddler noticed immediately. “He figured if you came back from the dead once before, there’s a chance you could do it again.”

Then the Riddler stopped his pacing and did a dramatic gesture to himself. “Which is where I come in. You see, he thought it would save him some time and effort to simply hire me.” He moved closer to Jason. “He figured if he couldn’t kill you…maybe you deserve a different punishment.”

Jason audible sighed. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

While it sounded like a joke, there was a truth to the question. Jason stopped fearing death long ago. And once you’ve died and come back to life, there’s nothing really that scared Jason Todd anymore. Which was why he had become the ruthless and merciless antihero of Gotham.

Batman would hurt criminals enough to break them. Red Hood would simply kill them.

Though after fighting his family became too much, Jason finally agreed to stop his massacres. But the criminals of Gotham didn’t need to know that. And Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how much they shook at the mere sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out how to return some fear into that ice cold heart of yours,” Riddler whispered in Jason’s ear before pressing a button.

A swinging light bulb flashed on.

No, no, no, no. no.

Below the source of the light was Y/N, tied to a chair by her hands and feet. A rag was across her mouth and tied at the back of her head. She was only in her underwear and a baggy t-shirt – Jason’s t-shirt. Further proving that she had been ripped from her bed and brought here against her will.

Jason completely controlled his reaction to seeing his girlfriend being held captive just 20 feet across from him. But in reality, his heart was about explode out of his chest.

Not this. Not her. Anything but her.

“What is this?” Jason asked, trying to sound as devoid of emotion as possible. The less she seemed to mean to him, the less Riddler would want to use her against him.

“I think you know exactly what this is, Red Hood.” Then Riddler practically skipped to Y/N’s side, who looked confused and terrified, clearly having no idea why any of this was happening to her of all people.

“Your quarrel is with me, Riddler. There’s no need to involve an innocent civilian.” Jason’s voice was cool and even.

But he ignored Jason and pulled a pistol out from the back of the waist.

Jason couldn’t remain calm any longer. He started struggling against the ties.

“Don’t worry. The fun has just begun. You get these three riddles right and I won’t hurt her – at least…not yet.”

But Jason was looking at Y/N. She was looking back at him, which did little to reassure her. She didn’t know who he was and his helmet wasn’t designed to comfort people.

“Hey, it’s gonna be OK.” He tried to tell her as softly as he could.

For some reason, she nodded. But Jason knew her well enough to see his words had little impact on her. Tears started streaming down her face and her entire body was shaking as she felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to her head.

“Shall we begin?” Riddler asked with a creepily joyful smile.

Jason waited. But as the Riddler was distracted, he was able to maneuver his arms to press the panic button on his wrist to send out a distress signal to the right people. It was his first time using it, always too proud or stubborn to ask for help.

But if Y/N was involved, none of that mattered anymore.

The Riddler’s eerie tone brought him back, “When you have me, you feel like sharing me. But if you do share me, you don’t have me.” He took in a deep breath. “What am I?”

Jason’s chest was heaving with anger. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve stayed away from Y/N. He was a curse, a disease. Anyone that got close to him just ended up in danger. And he should’ve known better than to think he could be happy without consequences.

“Clock’s ticking, Red Hood.” He cocked the gun. “What am I?”

“A secret,” Jason growled.

“Surprise, surprise. There does seem to be some semblance of a brain underneath that stupid helmet of yours.”

Y/N closed her eyes in relief, causing more tears to escape and slide down her cheeks.

“When you have me more, you can see only less. What am I?” The Riddler asked.

Jason thought on the next riddle as he tried to find one of his knives hidden in his sleeve. But even when he grabbed one, it would take far too long to cut through this thick rope that kept him tied down.

“Darkness,” Jason answered confidently.

The Riddler seemed annoyed now. “One more riddle and then we’ll move on to another game. Or maybe we won’t, if you get it wrong.” He shifted so he was directly behind Y/N and facing Jason as he pointed the gun at the back of her head.

“The person who built it, sold it. The person who bought it, never used it. The person who used it, never saw it.” He tilted his head. “What is it?”

Jason finally found the edge of a knife. He subtly started cutting at the ropes on the back of his chair, praying he could buy himself enough time to get him out.

The Riddler lifted the gun to the ceiling and shot it, causing Y/N to jump and let out a yelp.

“I’m waiting!” He snapped at Jason.

“A coffin!” Jason growled. “Put the gun down and let her go. You’ve had your fun.”

The Riddler laughed. “Oh, you think that this was the main attraction?” He put the gun down, but moved to grip Y/N’s chin roughly.

“Secrets, darkness, coffin,” Riddler listed the three answers aloud. Then he turned to Jason. “What do all of them have in common?”

Riddler moved back behind Y/N and leaned down to whisper in her ear. The feeling alone caused a chill to go down her spine. “You’ve been lied to, my dear. The decision to bring you here was not random at all. That I can promise you.”

“Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone,” he sang loudly, his voice echoing in the warehouse. Then he danced back to Y/N and pulled down the rag around her mouth, finally allowing her to speak.

“Red Hood, question for you. How many people have you killed?”

Don’t do this, Jason begged in his mind.

He didn’t answer.

The Riddler didn’t appreciate this and quickly walked to Y/N, smacking her across the face with the back of his hand.

Jason struggled against his restraints.

Riddler whipped back to him. “Answer the question!”

“I don’t know,” he barked back.

“You don’t know because there’s so many?” Riddler challenged.

“I don’t keep track,” Jason answered quickly, knowing his silence would only cause Y/N more pain.

“More then 10?”

“Yes.”

“More then 50?” Riddler asked with an evil grin.

“Yes.”

Riddler turned to Y/N. “It’s actually 83.”

It was the first Jason had heard the number. But he knew better than to question it.

“You call yourself a hero. But looks to me like you’re just a murderer,” the Riddler cooed with a sneer.

Jason hung his head in shame. “I’ve never called myself a hero.”

Riddler ignored his comment and turned his attention fully to Y/N now. “Now this next one is for you, dear. And it’s a tricky one.” The Riddler took in a deep breath. “I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many…or only just one.”

Y/N swallowed, repeating the words over and over again in her head.

“L-Love,” she finally stuttered out, but seemed sure of her answer.

The Riddler smiled at her response. He turned to Jason. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Red Hood.” Then he shifted his weight. “Or should I say Jason?”

Jason saw the confusion on Y/N’s face from the comment.

“Tell me dear, did you know you were in love with a murderer?”

Y/N was discombobulated by such a question.

But before she could figure it out, the Riddler rushed to Jason and ripped off his helmet. When he saw that Jason was wearing a domino mask underneath, he rolled his eyes. “All you bats and birds are so paranoid!” Then he ripped that off, too.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of her boyfriend.

But Jason didn’t catch it. He was too busy hanging his head, scared to meet her gaze.

“Surprised?” The Riddler asked her with glee.

Her tears started again. But they weren’t just from being scared now. They were tears of betrayal.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry,” the Riddler mocked.

“You did what you wanted. Now let her go,” Jason growled.

He tugged at his ropes, but his knife wasn’t cutting fast enough.

“Let her go?” The Riddler was baffled. “Who said anything about letting her go? I said I wasn’t going to hurt her if you cooperated. But killing her is the only way I can hurt you, Red Hood. Don’t worry, I shall make it quick!”

With that he raised his gun to her head once again. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, truly believing this is how she was going to die.

“NO!” Jason screamed.

But right before pulling the trigger, Riddler’s grip was knocked away by a batarang.

Jason felt sick with relief when he turned to see Batman and Robin making their way to the Riddler.

Riddler was not a fighter. He always made a run for it.

But when he turned to do so, he was met with Nightwing blocking his path.

Jason felt someone drop behind him and realized that Red Robin was getting rid of his restraints.

Riddler looked around him with crazed eyes, realizing he was about to be outnumbered five to one. “This is too many vigilantes for my liking. Time for backup.” He pulled out a button and pressed it before Dick could rip the unknown device from his hands.

An explosion erupted in the warehouse, catching everyone off guard.

Tim had just finally released Jason from his restraints when the impact hit.

Jason saw as Y/N’s chair was knocked off its legs, taking her to the floor with it. Her head slammed against the hard concrete floor.

As soon as the explosion settled, Jason sprinted to her.

When he reached her, she was knocked unconscious. “Y/N! Come on, beautiful. You’re OK. You’re OK.”

But the words were to convince himself. He felt for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when it was still strong.

Ever so carefully, he untied the ropes that held her to the chair. He ripped his jacket off his body and wrapped it around her shoulders. She seemed so small like this – so vulnerable. He’d tried so hard to keep her away from this darkness. And seeing her like this was the horrid reminder for why he’d lied to her about who he was.

His family watched with concern as Jason stood with her limp body in his arms. By some miracle, the blast missed all of them. It was used as more of a distraction than as an attempt to take any of them out.

Jason slowly walked to Bruce.

“Take her. Please.” His eyes desperate at first, but then they darkened. “There’s something I have to do.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We had a deal.”

But he still gently took Y/N out of his arms.

“That was before her,” Jason answered as he took a final glance at Y/N.

“Jason, don’t do it,” Dick urged.

“Keep her safe,” was all Jason said before turning from them and running after the man that had put his love in danger.

“What shall we do with her?” Damian asked coldly as he eyed the young woman he was seeing for the first time.

“We’re taking her back to the manor,” Bruce told his sons.

“Is that wise?” Damian countered.

“He’ll need her. And she’ll need to know everything,” was all Bruce said as he started carrying Y/N to the batmobile.

————————

Y/N wasn’t awoken by people screaming from the streets below or the garbage truck coming too early to throw every neighbor’s trash can around at 5AM. She couldn’t hear the blasting of her window unit air conditioning.

No, instead she heard birds chirping outside and the wind rustling countless trees.

Did she even have a single tree on her block?

She squinted her eyes open and the night came rushing back to her.

Goons storming into her apartment, ripping her from her bed and throwing a bag over her head. Y/N just remembered thinking, “I’m just glad Jason wasn’t here. At least he’s safe.”

But Jason was far from safe. He was Red Hood: the infamous anti-hero that half of Gotham thought was a murderer and the other half swore he was just as much of a hero as the the other masked vigilantes.

How did she not see it sooner?

The random cuts and bruises. Constantly missing dates. Late-night texts when she had already fallen asleep. Always being exhausted when he was present.

But it was easy to ignore all of this because when they were together, things were good – no, things were amazing.

No man had ever made Y/N feel more seen and loved and appreciated. In fact, before him, Y/N had come to terms with being alone for the rest of her life. She made peace with it, had no problem with it.

But then Jason came stumbling into her life. And he didn’t accept Y/N being unloved the way she did. It was the thing that made him get over his own self-hatred and constant need to punish himself. If he wasn’t going to love Y/N for him, then he’d love Y/N because that’s what she deserved.

And Y/N felt that.

But he wasn’t who she thought he was. He had lied to her over and over again. When she was concerned over his injuries, he made up story after story. When she asked where he’d been after skipping a date, he used work as an excuse.

Did Y/N actually know Jason Todd at all?

Or had she only seen what she wanted to see?

Did the man she love even exist?

These were the questions racing through Y/N’s mind as she awoke in a bedroom that she didn’t recognize. Bedroom – if that’s even what she could call it. It felt more like a palace. She’d never slept on softer sheets or a comfier mattress. The room was bigger than her entire apartment. And from what she could see in the ensuite bathroom, it looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

Y/N’s observations paused when she saw Red Hood’s leather jacket tossed on top of the fancy chaise lounge on the other side of the room. No, not Red Hood’s leather jacket. Jason’s. It was the only indication that he had been there.

Am I in Wayne Manor? Y/N asked herself.

At least Jason hadn’t lied about that, explaining his afflicted relationship with his family casually a few times. But in a way that always told Y/N he didn’t want to talk about it in depth.

The leather jacket then caused Y/N to look down at herself. She was wearing a white t-shirt and grey cotton sleep shorts. Clearly they were mens. Someone had changed her while she had been asleep – or…unconscious.

Fuck, her head really hurt.

Having enough of being confused, Y/N slipped out of the bed and decided she was going to hunt down an explanation.

The bedroom was placed in a long hallway. Taking a 50/50 chance, Y/N decided to go right instead of left.

She walked as quietly as possible, still feeling uncomfortable in such surroundings.

After she stepped down the most extravagant staircase she’d ever seen, she heard sounds come from around the corner. It sounded like movement in a kitchen.

When she reached a doorway, she saw an elderly man dressed as a butler. As he was cooking, he caught Y/N’s presence from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned and gave her a comforting smile.

“Ah! Ms. Y/L/N, your timing is impeccable. I was just finishing up breakfast.”

But she remained unsure of the situation.

“Oh, I do apologize. Where are my manners? I am Alfred Pennyworth.” He quickly stepped to her and offered his hand. “I am the butler for the Wayne family.”

“So…this is Wayne Manor?” Y/N asked after awkwardly shaking his hand in the doorway, completely forgetting to share her own name. But he cleary already knew it.

He smiled at her. “Yes, Master Wayne brought you here after last nights…theatrics.” Before either of them could discuss the “theatrics” he slyly mentioned, he pulled out a chair at the table in the kitchen. “Please, sit. You must be famished.”

This man hardly looked threatening, so she decided to follow his instructions.

Alfred quickly placed a large plate with a full English breakfast on it, a mug of steaming coffee, and a glass of water. Then he offered her a bottle of advil.

Y/N looked up at him with a curious glance.

“I can only assume your head is aching quite a bit. From what I was told, you took quite the fall from the explosion.”

At least Y/N knew she hadn’t imagined the nightmare. It was real. She quickly took two of the pills and chugged the glass of water.

Alfred didn’t hover, instead continuing to work on more breakfast.

But Y/N’s breakfast was quickly interrupted when Bruce Wayne walked into the kitchen.

He eyed her carefully, hiding his surprise at her being awake. Casually, he went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked her.

Y/N was surprised how genuine his concern sounded.

“Confused,” she blustered out without meaning to.

Bruce smirked. “I meant your head.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Ummm…just a terrible headache. But I think I’ll live.”

“Good.”

To her shock, Bruce sat across from her. He drank his coffee as his eyes raced across the tablet in his hand.

Y/N took a few bites of food before she had the courage to ask one of the many questions that were racing around her head.

“Where is Jason?” She asked slowly and carefully.

Alfred seemed to tense at the question and hesitated before saying, “Master Jason thought it best to give you some space.”

Y/N didn’t know what to make of his answer.

Bruce seemed to be studying her.

Y/N wanted to shrink under his scrutiny, but fought the feeling and met his gaze head on, as if challenging him.

“He’s in the cave,” Bruce told her evenly.

It seemed no one was trying to hide their family secrets from Y/N.

“I’d like to see him.”

Bruce and Alfred shared a look and what seemed to be a silent conversation.

After a moment, Bruce stood up. “I’ll take you.”

Y/N jumped out of her seat to follow him.

Next thing she knew, Bruce was taking her through a secret passage and there was a dark and dreary staircase in front of her.

Bruce gestured for her to go forward, silently telling her he wasn’t coming with.

As soon as Y/N started down the cold staircase, a shiver went down her spin. The temperature immediately dropped.

When she reached the bottom, she looked around and found Jason sparring with a man she recognized as Dick Grayson.

Jason did a double take as soon as Y/N took a step away from the staircase.

Dick followed his gaze and his face dropped.

The two men shared a look and their sparring ended.

Dick walked to her and gave Y/N a charming smile as he held out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Dick.”

Y/N forced a shy smirk and shook his hand, but said nothing.

Now it was just Jason and Y/N.

Y/N’s arms tightly held herself because of the freezing temperature of the batcave, and because she didn’t know how this conversation was about to end.

“Hi,” Jason said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“How’d you get down here?”

Y/N shrugged. “Bruce.”

Jason looked her up and down before quickly turning and grabbing the sweatshirt he had discarded before working out and sparring.

He handed it to her, making sure not to get too close. “Here. It gets fucking frigid in this stupid cave.”

Y/N quickly put it on. But she didn’t miss how Jason tried to keep his distance.

“I’m not scared of you,” she muttered.

He cocked an eyebrow, but she could still see the hurt in his face. “Really? Because you’re not looking at me like I’m the same person.”

“Because you’re not,” Y/N snapped.

Y/N imagined this conversation would be filled with rage. She thought she’d start yelling at Jason and then she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d tell him how disappointed she was in him, how he was just like every other man who had hurt her. Her hands would be quivering in fists at her side. The anger…it would consume her.

So imagine her surprise when her bottom lip started trembling and tears started streaming down her face. And she could do nothing to stop it.

Little did she know that watching this hurt Jason more than her anger ever could.

He took a step toward her. It was his instinct – an instinct that was so hard to fight in this moment.

“You know…it’s really hard for me to let people in – no, it’s hard for me to let men in. I don’t trust them. I stop doing that a long time ago. But you – fuck – I don’t even know why now. But I did let you in. I really did. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I trusted you. I…I loved you, Jason.”

Jason looked in more pain than ever before. His eyes watered from seeing the woman he loved breaking down like this. And it was no one else’s fault, but his own.

“But you hid this whole part of yourself. You lied to me. Every excuse you made for your bruises and cuts, you were lying. Every time you canceled a date, you were lying. And I’m realizing that you lied to me about your life more than you ever told me the truth.”

She tried to wipe away the tears, but they were coming down too fast.

“Was the Riddler serious?” She accused. “Have you killed all those people?”

“I have.”

Y/N studied him for a second. A part of her hadn’t expected him to admit it. She was waiting for him to give her another lie. After all, it came so naturally to him.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She practically whimpered.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “I just…I didn’t know how. I was scared.”

Was there even anything he could say that would make her hate him less?

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. And I should’ve kept you safe. You almost–” He felt sick. “You were almost killed last night. And it was because of me.”

Y/N’s eyes went dark. “Did you kill him? Did you kill the Riddler?”

Jason’s jaw clenched and his hands turned into fists at the mentioning of the criminal’s name. “No, but I should’ve.”

In truth, he almost had. It hadn’t been hard to catch up to the bastard. Jason beat him to in an inch of his death. But not before he confirmed that no one else knew of Y/N’s existence. No, he didn’t kill the Riddler. But he beat him so badly that he would be in the coma for the rest of his days – unable to speak, meaning no one else would ever know about Y/N.

“I don’t do that anymore. Bruce and I…we have a deal.”

“He’s Batman,” she wasn’t asking. “And your brothers…” she didn’t need to finish.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” His head hung low. “I don’t deserve it. And I never deserved you in the first place. I always knew that. It’s probably why it was so hard to tell you. Because I knew the moment I did… you’d see me for the monster I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes were red now and her nose congested.

“You don’t owe me anything. But I just…I need to tell you this before I never see you again,” Jason quickly said, sensing this was their final goodbye. “I love you. I didn’t even think I could love someone the way I love you, Y/N. You…you’ve made me better. And you’re probably the only reason I was able to stop myself from killing that son of a bitch last night.”

It was Y/N’s face Jason saw when he was beating the Riddler. And then he realized, in some twisted way, that such a death would also be on her hands. He could handle having blood on his hands forever. But would never do that to Y/N.

Then Jason’s word turned so, so quiet. “But I also know I can’t ask you to stay after everything I’ve done to you.”

And for a moment, the two of them just stared at one another.

Y/N tried to wipe the last of her tears away once again. “I think I should go,” she mumbled.

“You can’t go back to your apartment. It’s not safe there anymore. Bruce offered to let you stay here for as long as necessary. I’ll leave,” he quickly added. “So you don’t have to worry about being around me.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not staying here,” she said with a surprising amount of conviction. “I’ll stay with friends or something. But I don’t want to be here.”

What Y/N meant was that she didn’t want to be surrounded by the secrets Jason had kept from her. She didn’t want to be reminded of how little she actually knew him.

Somehow Jason seemed to realize that.

He took a cautious step toward her. “For what it’s worth, you do know me. I know you think that’s a lie. But no one sees me like you see me, Y/N. No one.” He pointed up. “Not even the fucked up people that call me their family.”

His words struck in a way she wasn’t expecting. But she made sure he didn’t know that and controlled her expression, staying as emotionless as possible.

Jason sighed, knowing this was their end. “Alfred will take you anywhere you want to go.”

He wanted to tell her more. He wanted to ask – no, to beg – to hold her. Just one last time. But he would never ask that of her. How could he?

So he just watched as Y/N slowly turned and made her way back of the stairs.

Jason wanted to memorize her face as if this was the last time he’d lay eyes on her. But he knew himself better than that. He’d make sure she was safe, add her to his patrol as if it was normal addition to his vigilante life. Y/N didn’t deserve to be at risk for the rest of her life because she made the mistake of loving a man like him.

————————

1 MONTH LATER.

————————

Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be. She thought she could just go back to the life she had before Jason ever fought his way into her heart. But it took her a month to understand that was never going to happen. She’d never be able to just forget him.

She thought anger would take over and make her hate Jason. Hate was always easier than love. And Y/N was banking on that.

But after everything Jason did, Y/N still couldn’t find it in her heart to hate him.

Because, at the end of the day, they still loved each other.

Despite his secrets and his lies, Y/N knew that Jason had been telling the truth about his feelings for her. He really did love her. She had felt it every day. Even at the beginning of their relationship – before they realized what they were feeling was love – Y/N always felt how much Jason cared for her.

That was why all of this was so hard for her.

Take away the lies, the secret vigilante life, the killing. Take it all away. And Y/N knew she had never met another man that made her feel the way Jason did – or…had.

That was really what Y/N had finally realized over the past weeks. She had thought it was betrayal and fear.

No.

She now understood that what she was feeling was a broken heart.

It was a first for her. One had to be in love in order to get their heart broken. And the only man Y/N ever loved was Jason Todd.

As the understanding washed over Y/N, she was staring out the window. She’d made herself a cup of coffee, but had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d let it grow cold. Then she felt a tickling down her cheek and realized that she had started crying.

Suddenly there was a quick knock at the front door of her apartment.

Y/N squinted in suspicion at the sound and sloppily rubbed the tears off her face.

She slowly walked to door, but stopped a few feet away, and just stared at it as her heart rate increased.

After Riddler’s men broke into her home and ripped her from bed, she had been anxious and cautious about any and all unexpected visitors. She hadn’t been sleeping. Either she couldn’t fall asleep or if she did, her night was infested with nightmares.

“Y/N? It’s Dick Grayson,” a voice called from the other side of the door.

She let out a small sigh of relief. How long had she been holding her breath?

There was a part of her that was screaming to still ignore the uninvited guest, despite it being someone she knew. But how well did she actually know Dick Grayson?

Except the other part – the part that could admit she missed Jason – wanted to speak to anyone that was from the part of her life she was trying so hard to forget.

Ever so slowly, she opened the door.

“Hi,” Dick beamed at seeing her appear. His smile and eyes were warm and friendly in a way that none of the other boys were.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked with a bit of rudeness.

She didn’t appreciate him giving her a scare. Especially because her two best friends that she now lived with were out of town for the weekend.

“I was hoping I could talk to you,” he gave her a shy but hopeful grin. Then he held up a tray of coffee and a paper baggie. “I brought you a latte and some doughnuts.”

Y/N eyed him. Her first thought was that maybe something had happened to Jason. But Dick’s delivery proved that wasn’t the case.

Her only invitation to Dick was a widening of the door and making room for him to walk past her.

This seemed to make him happy though.

Y/N directed them to the little breakfast nook that was flooded in the morning light.

She didn’t waste any time. “Did Jason send you here?”

“No, Jason doesn’t know that I’m here,” Dick clarified as he slid one of the lattes to her side of the table.

Her nerves were the only reason she picked it up and started sipping, just trying to give herself something physical to do while Dick stared at her from across the little table.

“Is he OK?” She mumbled without looking at him.

Her pride wanted to her to shut up and not ask. But she couldn’t stop the question from spilling out, even though all evidence pointed to Dick having no bad news to share.

“He’s fine,” Dick quickly assured her. “Well…physically, at least.”

“What are you doing here, Dick?” She repeated her original question.

“It should be Bruce here, really. But he…” His words died out and then he cleared his throat. “Well, these types of things aren’t exactly his strong suit. Tim wanted to come, too. But I didn’t want to…overwhelm you.”

“And what ‘type’ of thing is this exactly?”

Dick took in a deep breath and then leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table.

“You deserve to know the story – the whole story. I’m not here to get you to forgive Jason or to change your mind about leaving him.” He rubbed his face. “But I just want you to know the truth about him before you live with those decisions.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now. She felt sick.

Was she even ready for this conversation?

“So, is that OK?” Dick asked her carefully.

After a moment, Y/N finally nodded her head.

Dick took a deep breath.

He knew where he needed to start. And he wasn’t just about to share Jason’s secrets, he was about to tell Y/N all of their secrets. But it was what needed to be done.

Dick told her about Jason living on the streets, how his dad abused him, and his mother was a drug addict that couldn’t protect her son. Little Jason Todd turned to crime to take care of himself and get enough money to take care of himself and his mom.

Dick smiled as he told her how Jason tried to steel Bruce’s wheels on the batmobile. That was the moment that Bruce knew he couldn’t leave such a desperate child on the streets. Then everything happened so quickly. Next thing Dick knew, Jason had replaced him as Robin and Bruce had a new sidekick.

“I should’ve been there for him more,” Dick confessed. “Jason didn’t just need a home and a parent… he needed a brother, too. And I take responsibility for not really being there for him. If I’m being honest, I was bitter. It was hard for me to see how quickly Bruce could just…”

“Replace you?” Y/N offered softly.

Dick swallowed and nodded.

This was the hard part. Now he had to explain how Jason died, how the Joker tricked a child who was desperate to find the truth about his mother. How a dead boy became a resurrected man.

Dick knew he couldn’t gloss over the gory details. Jason deserved better. He didn’t need to have his secrets protected from the first woman who loved him. He needed to be seen and still loved.

Dick watched as Y/N shifted in her seat, trying her best to compose herself as Dick told her about Jason dying so horribly and then being resurrected. Joker’s maniacal laugh flashed in Y/N’s mind. As Dick spoke, she could almost feel the warmth of the explosion that he’d set for Jason.

It was all so terrible.

How Jason was able to overcome it all left Y/N in awe of him.

“Jason has never really fully been himself since before…everything,” Dick said. “But it wasn’t fair that any of us ever expected that after what happened to him. I know there’s still so much that he’s never told any of us. And I’m not sure he ever will.”

Dick explained Jason’s rebellion from the family and his war with Bruce. Dick was the one that got emotional now, as his eyes glossed over, remembering how angry and ruthless Jason had been.

“Bruce has one rule: no killing.” Dick sighed and rubbed his face. “Jason thought he was being what Gotham needed. He was tired of watching criminal after criminal beat the system and repeatedly get set free. We eventually had to make a deal with him. We couldn’t stand by and let him continue on the way he was.”

Dick gave her a nervous look. “I can only assume that the hardest thing to wrap your mind around is the–”

“Killing,” Y/N quickly interrupted harshly.

Until now, she had remained quiet but engaged. Never interrupting or adding unnecessary responses.

“Yes,” Dick replied before tightening his jaw.

Y/N couldn’t look at him now. “I know–” She had to pause because her voice was shaking so much. “I know he did it to protect people. And I know – in his mind – that they deserved it, because they were bad people.”

“I might not agree with Jason’s views or his past actions. But one thing is for sure: Jason Todd has never killed an innocent.”

“I just don’t know if that’s enough,” Y/N said with teary eyes.

“I understand,” Dick nodded.

There had been a part of her that always knew Jason was fighting demons. But she could’ve never guessed how bad it had truly been for him.

How could he hide all of this from her?

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. After hearing Jason’s life story, how could she? Tears silently ran down her face. She wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of Dick. He had such a calming presence about him.

Dick just let her consume everything he’d spent the past hour telling her. He just wanted to be there for her as she processed it.

So he sat there and let her cry. And eventually she got a hold of herself.

“You’re forgetting the most important part of this story,” Dick told her with a shy smile.

“I am?”

Dick nodded. “You.”

She scoffed at that.

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” Dick leaned forward again.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t one to share her emotions and feelings freely. So she wasn’t about to open up to her ex’s older brother, whom she hardly knew.

“He loves you, Y/N.” Dick insisted.

“None of you even knew about me,” Y/N tried to argue.

“That’s not true. Just because he didn’t tell us directly doesn’t mean we didn’t know about you.” Dick smirked. “We’re a nosey bunch. When we noticed a change in him – a good change – we did a little investigating.”

Y/N couldn’t find it in her to tell Dick that Jason made her change for the better too.

So she changed the subject to what was really stopping her from running back into Jason’s arms despite all the lies and secrets.

“How did you get over it?” Her voice was so quite that it was almost a whisper.

“Get over what?” Dick squinted.

“The killing.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Police Officers kill people every day.”

Y/N made a look of disgust. “Law enforcement in this country is corrupt. I figured a man who felt the need to wear a mask and become a vigilante was well aware of that.”

Dick winced. “Why do you think Gotham is so hard to clean up?”

She stayed quiet.

“Soldiers have killed more people on a single tour than Jason has,” Dick continued.

“Soldiers are following orders,” Y/N countered. “Orders from authority whose ethics and motives are often questionable.”

“Exactly.” Dick’s back straightened. “We’ve normalized both of those things. But I can assure you of one thing, Jason has no ulterior motives. There is no systemic prejudice that controls his actions. Just right and wrong, good and evil.”

Then he rubbed his face, wondering if he wanted to say the next part. “When things with Jason were bad – really bad – and I thought I would have to be the one that put him behind bars, the one thing that gave me hope was knowing that Jason had rid the world of evil. That doesn’t mean I condone his actions…but it helps me sleep at night.”

Silence filled the apartment. Y/N was still processing the information. And Dick didn’t want to force her to talk or speak just to fill the silence.

Slowly, Dick rose from his seat.

“I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have,” he told her gently.

There were those classic Wayne manners that both Bruce and Alfred had ingrained in him. It reminded Y/N of Jason. Even though Jason had a dark, sarcastic sense of humor and quite the temper, Y/N couldn’t remember a time when the man didn’t say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ – not to mention all the old-school gentlemanly gestures that always caught her off guard.

Y/N followed Dick to the door.

He hesitated. “Thank you for listening, Y/N.”

She just nodded.

“Like I said when I got here, I’m not telling you what to do. All I ask is that you consider everything you learned.”

She nodded again. “You’re a good brother, Dick.”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Jason would disagree with you on that. I’m lucky if he even calls me his brother most of the time.”

Y/N managed to force a shy smirk on her lips for his benefit.

Then Dick was reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper. He slowly handed it over.

She looked down to see what appeared to be an address. “What’s this?”

“The safe house Jason’s been hiding out in since you last talked.” Then he gave her one final nod. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

————————————— 3 WEEKS LATER. —————————————

Jason had been on autopilot these past couple of months. He let his work take over his life. To make matters worse, he barely added eating and sleeping to that mix. The only reason he managed to get himself to eat was to keep his strength up… so he could keep working.

Right now was the one of the few times his exhaustion was so heavy that he managed to get a couple hours of sleep.

That is until one of the alarms for his safe house went off.

Someone had triggered the sensor for the floor.

It could easily be a homeless person. It wouldn’t be the first time. But that assumption went on the window when Jason heard a polite knock at his front door.

Completely silent, Jason moved out of bed and grabbed the gun that sat on his nightstand.

Quickly he tiptoed to the door and waited, half expecting someone to start shooting. It wouldn’t have mattered, seeing as the door was made out of bulletproof steel.

Without making a sound, he made his way to the peephole.

When he spotted who was on the other side, his body moved on reflex alone. He instantly put the gun on safety and whipped open the door.

His guest jumped a little in surprise.

“Y/N,” Jason gasped.

Once she got over the scare, she seemed to take in his appearance.

Jason looked awful. There were shadows under his eyes. His hair looked greasy from the lack of washing. And because he was “working” so much, his body was littered in more injuries than usual. He stood completely shirtless in black boxer briefs.

But the only thing Jason was embarrassed about was his autopsy scar that was on full display for her.

Yes, Y/N had seen and felt it. But it was always in the cover of darkness. If they had sex in daylight, Jason always found a way to keep a shirt on. It was always effortless and subtle. Plus Y/N was so preoccupied with the passion between them that she never really considered how self-conscious he was about it.

Once again, Y/N was wondering why she normalized things like that instead of pushing Jason to open up about things he was obviously hiding.

She had assumed they were scars from his childhood. He had told her his dad was abusive and his mom did nothing to protect him. Y/N thought the scars were from an incident – an incident that was too traumatizing for him open up to her about.

But they were autopsy scars… Because Jason had died once.

“Did I wake you?” She asked him gently.

“No,” he quickly lied. Then he shook his head, still processing that she was standing in front of him. “Come in,” he hurriedly added.

She game him a grateful nod and walked past him.

Her eyes quickly took in the safe house. It looked like an industrial loft. But what she was really locking on to was the multiple tables covered in weapons and gear.

After all that time of Jason’s vigilante life being hidden, now it was all completely on display for her to see.

“Are you OK?” Jason quickly asked her.

She nodded.

“How is your new place?” He then asked.

“Fine,” she offered.

“Your roommates are OK?”

She nodded again.

“Are you sleeping alright?”

“Jason,” she said it sternly, in a tone that she knew would make him finally stop with the frantic questions. “I came to talk to you.”

This took him aback.

Then he looked around him. There was a fold out table a few feet away from them.

“Here,” he muttered before rushing forward and moving what appeared to be a dozen knives and multiple guns.

He pulled out one of the chairs and motioned for her to sit.

Then Jason seemed to finally realize his state of undress. “I’ll…just give me a second.”

Y/N would’ve laughed at his adorable franticness. But she was too busy feeling nauseous and anxious.

She turned her back to him changing since the loft style gave little privacy. 30 seconds later, Jason was moving back to the table and sitting across from her in a black hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N gently cleared her throat. Her gaze couldn’t meet Jason’s as she said, “Dick came to see me.”

Jason’s face darkened. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. I’ll ta–”

“No, it’s fine.” Then she shifted in her seat. “He came to…uhh…he came to talk to me about you, actually.”

That wasn’t what Jason was expecting.

“He told me everything,” she stated. “I mean, everything you never did.”

The true meaning of her words slowly washed over Jason.

He leaned back in his chair, his massive form making it squeak.

Y/N took in a shaky breath. “Jason…I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He shifted his weight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N.” He told her quietly.

Usually Jason’s death and resurrection was a joke. He loved making his family cringe, shrink, and become uncomfortable with his dark humor about it. That was just how he’d grown to deal with it all.

But he couldn’t do the same for Y/N.

A few beats of silence passed between them.

“I miss you,” Y/N finally told him.

Jason’s eyes widened at the confession. “I miss you, too.”

Silence again.

“Was I just part of a cover?” She quickly asked him.

“No,” he immediately answered.

“Was our relationship even real?”

“Yes, Y/N. I promise you that it was.”

Y/N bit her lip. She came here with no plan. And now it was starting to feel very real. She knew what she needed to know and she knew what she needed to say. But she wasn’t sure how to get there.

“Do you still love me?” She whispered.

Jason flinched at the question – not because of the answer, but because she felt the need to even ask it.

He nodded.

“After everything that’s happened,” she began, “what would a relationship between us even be, Jason?”

This was not the follow-up question he was expecting.

“What do you want it to be?”

But what he really wanted to say was it could be anything she wanted. He would do absolutely anything to get her back. Anything.

Still, he didn’t want to push her. So he let her take the lead.

“No more lies,” Y/N demanded. Jason opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I know you can’t tell me the details of the nightly occurrences from your…other life.”

“It was to keep you safe,” he tried to explain. “The less you know, the safer you are. No one can try to use you for information.”

Y/N nodded in understanding. “I’m saying no more lies about where you are or why you can’t make something. And no more hiding injuries.”

Jason nodded firmly, trying to mask his eagerness.

“But more importantly…No more lies about your past. Dick may have told me everything he knew. But I know there’s missing parts and it’s only his perspective.” Then she hesitated, “And I’d…I’d like to hear it from you.”

Jason felt sick by the idea. He thought maybe he’d gotten out of such a request because of his nosey brother.

“You might not like what you find…” he warned her.

But Y/N was already shaking her head. “You know me inside and out.”

Jason did a weird half shrug, half nod. “I like to think so.”

“Don’t you think I deserve the same?”

Jason knew he had a point. But he loved everything about her. Y/N’s flaws weren’t even flaws to him. They were just what made her the woman she was. And that so happened to a woman he was deeply in love with.

But his sins? They were what convinced him that he was unlovable – a monster.

“You do,” Jason agreed with a mumble.

Y/N struggled to swallow with how dry her throat had suddenly become. “You had made a deal with your family – a deal you almost broke because of me.”

Jason knew what she was really asking. She didn’t even really know what she wanted.

“You want to know about the people I’ve killed,” he said low and even.

But she didn’t answer.

Jason leaned forward on the table and thought over her request. He rubbed the scruff on his jawline and chin.

“One was a man who was trying to rip down the pants of 5 year old girl in an alley of the Narrows.” His expression and tone was numb as he started listing them. “Another was an abusive husband that pushed his pregnant wife down a flight of stairs, causing her to have a miscarriage and almost die.”

Y/N felt sick as she listened.

“The last person I killed was Gotham’s number one human trafficker. When I asked him – with a gun to his head – how he had such a lack of remorse, he said, ‘These sickos are going to find their fun one place or another, I might as well make a buck off it.’”

Y/N could tell as Jason shared these stories that he felt no remorse for his executions.

“Bruce would tell you that every one deserves a chance to change. Or he’ll tell you that we’re not the law, we’re just enforcing it.” Jason shook his head. “But I’ve seen thousands of rapists, murderers, and – god knows what else – get freed time and time again. They may get locked up for a bit, but most of them find their way back on the streets. The system is broken. I know it. You know it. And Bruce knows it.”

Then his eyes darkened. “And before you ask, I wouldn’t take any of it back. Truthfully, I believe the world is a better place without those fuckers in it.”

As harsh as it sounded, Y/N appreciated the honesty. And perhaps there was a part of her that agreed with him.

Jason was right: she did know the system was broken, just as much as he did. But she wasn’t in a position to execute the same justice as he could.

“Can I ask you something in return?” The softness in his voice surprised Y/N.

She nodded her head.

“That morning at the manor…you said you weren’t scared of me.” He paused. “Were you telling the truth?”

“I wasn’t scared of you – at least, not like you’re implying. I felt–” She searched for the right word. “Defenseless. Because you knew me, but I didn’t know you anymore. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. “And what about now? After knowing all I’ve done.”

To his surprise, Y/N reached across the table and gently grabbed one his hands. She held it in her grasp, tracing the lines in his palm. The skin was rough and scarred.

After so long without it, the feeling of her touch caused a shiver to go down Jason’s spine.

Y/N knew these hands had killed dozens of people. But she also knew that they’d been nothing but gentle with her.

“You’ve never hurt me, Jason.”

“I never would,” he answered quietly, almost with a certain desperation.

She nodded, already knowing that.

“No matter what happens with us, I don’t ever want you to be scared of me, Y/N.”

Then she was crying and jumped from her seat. Without even thinking, she was on the other side of the table, throwing herself onto Jason’s lap, and wrapping her arms around him. Jason pulled her even tighter to him, cradling her face to his neck.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just…I just want you back. OK?”

Y/N pulled away and Jason wiped the tears from her cheeks. She nodded and gave him a teary smile, “OK.”

Their relationship wouldn’t mend itself just like that. They were going to have to work at it. But with all their secrets on the table, they knew what they were fighting. And from now on, they were going to face them together.

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

Yeesh. That one was a lot.

Let me know what you think!

(If you have criticisms about how I wrote Jason, I’d love to hear them, just don’t be a fucking asshole about it. There’s a right way to give feedback and there’s definitely a wrong way.)

#jason todd #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batman fandom #batman fic

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bookishofalder · 3 years

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Pretty Girl - Four

Summary: In which a call for help leads to Flip and Pretty Girl facing their feelings.

Warnings: Smut. 18+, NSFW, Swearing, PIV. WC- 5,506

A/N: Admittedly very excited to write the chapter. Suffered a few days of migraines this week, which now has me questioning every word I’ve written, but I hope you enjoy. To those who comment and follow regularly, you guys truly bring me joy and I appreciate you ❤️

Flip was dreaming in flashes. The events of the week prior, in the file room with (Y/N), replaying themselves over and over. Flash, her wide eyes. Flash, the way she wet her lips. Flash, the brief look of disappointment when they were interrupted. He’d been ruminating on that look, however neither of them brought it back up again-not after the meeting, where she’d sat next to him with her foot shaking uncharacteristically, nor on the silent drive home. It just...sat in the air between them, a balloon neither of them wanted to pop.

Already suffering from poor sleep quality, Flip was now sinking into a permanently exhausted state with the addition of nightly dreams that kept him on the edge of consciousness. His brain seemed determined to keep thoughts of (Y/N) at the forefront regardless of the time of day. He had been in love a few times in his life; with women who were kind, eager to become the housewife of a detective. But he never felt for anyone like he did for (Y/N). The protectiveness, the desire to know everything about her, to know what she was thinking...it was overwhelming. And so the dreams kept him tossing each night. And while he might have stayed like this, fighting them until he slipped into a deeper sleep, he was instead abruptly awoken when the phone next to his bed began a shrill ringing.

“Christ,” He mumbled, jerking up and rolling over. The clock on his bed stand read two-thirty in the morning. He grumbled in displeasure, intending on ignoring it. When the ringing didn’t cease, he groaned and reached for the receiver, his voice gruff with sleep when he barked, “Zimmerman.”

“Um, hi Flip.”

Flip immediately tensed, sitting up as the sound of (Y/N)‘s voice came down the line. His mind was already running ahead making the worst assumptions about why she would be calling so late on the weekend. It wasn’t a surprise when his voice came out slightly choked, “Pretty girl, are you alright? Are you safe?”

Her voice sounded somewhat strained with regret, “I’m safe, really. I’m so sorry to bother you so late-“

“Just tell me what you need, darling.” He interrupted, twisting to drop his feet to the floor and casting his eyes around the dark bedroom for his sweatpants.

She sighed, “The power went out here a few hours ago, and I’m not sure why. But with the weather tonight it’s absolutely freezing in here now. And my brother in law is away for work,” She took another breath, which Flip recognized was her attempt at hiding how cold she was, “I feel silly calling you.” He smiled, pleasure blooming in his chest at the realization that after her brother in law, Flip was the next person she trusted to call in the middle of the night.

Flip hummed slightly at her words, “No reason to feel silly-I’ll be over there in ten, take a look for you.” A voice in the back of his mind questioned whether this was a wise choice, but he pushed it back, ignoring it. She needed him.

“You don’t have to do that. If you could maybe just tell me what to look for on my, uh, breaker? Electric panel?”

Now he couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, “I’m coming over, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

A quiet thank you met his ears as he put the phone down. Flip switched on the light and stood, making his way around his room to put on his sweatpants and sweater before stopping in the bathroom to freshen up and splash his face with water to wake up. The combination of cold water and mint from his toothpaste helped accomplish this. Excitement flooded within him at the realization he would get to see her so soon.

Pulling his shoes on, he considered if there was anything he should bring. He knew she probably had a toolkit but wondered if she would have a high powered flashlight. Deciding to lean on the side of caution, he grabbed his own from the kitchen drawer before sliding on his rain jacket, grabbing his keys and heading out into the cold night. It was rainy, a combination that meant the roads were especially tricky to drive on. His ten-minute drive was closer to twenty, tension building in his stomach the closer he got.

He was worried about being alone with her, of the risk of crossing a line. Worrying she would ask him what she had in the file room.

“Are you sure you aren’t keeping anything from me?”

How did you confess to loving your best friend, when they were the only good thing in your life?

When Flip pulled his truck onto her street, he noticed straight away that it was darker in her neighbourhood than on the main road. Glancing around at the houses, he saw no lights on, not even on porches. Parked in the driveway, Flip looked at (Y/N)‘s dark house as he stepped from his truck, then around the street. It was eerily dark, even the streetlights were out. So it had to be a power outage from the weather and not an issue with her breaker.

Hopping up her front steps, Flip rapped on the door softly. After a moment, the door opened to reveal his friend smiling shyly, a flashlight in her hand. “Hi Flip, come on in. Thanks for coming.”

She stepped back and secured the door while he removed his jacket and shoes, shaking some rain from his hair. “Hi, darling.” He looked around at her then, drinking in her casual appearance.

Her hair was falling in soft waves over her shoulders, her face clear of makeup. She wore a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms with an oversized CSPD sweatshirt. Flip felt his stomach fill with heat at the sight of her looking so...radiant. Innocent. Soft.

“Got some good news, and some bad, darling.” He said after a pause.

She gestured for him to follow her into the living room. Glancing around the cozy space, he saw she had lit a few candles along her fireplace mantle to bring some light to the room. Even in the dim light, he could tell the space was decorated entirely by her. Her personality shone through even in the choice of wallpaper.

(Y/N) leaned against the back of her couch, hands gripping it as she gazed up at Flip, “Always bad news first.” He wanted to reach out and smooth the little pucker between her brows.

“Well, looks like the whole neighbourhood is experiencing an outage, no lights-not even the street lights.”

She sighed heavily, “Great, so not something that can be fixed right now-meaning I woke you up for nothing.” Dropping her head into her hands, he heard her give a little grunt of despair.

Flip smiled down at her, amused. If only she knew he couldn’t sleep anyway. “The good news is nothing is wrong with your breaker. And now that I’m here we can get you set up for the night so you don’t freeze. It’ll probably be out for a while.”

She peered up at Flip through her fingers, eyes assessing his grin. “You’re not annoyed with me?”

Flip forced himself not to step closer to her, “No, darling. Now, let’s get a fire going.”

They worked in silence, the only sound the distant rain and occasional blasts of wind. Flip stacked the firewood, thankful her fireplace was large, while (Y/N) laid out the newspaper strips and kindling for him. Once he had the fire roaring, Flip assessed the room.

The comfortable looking couch was set back from the fireplace, a coffee table in the centre. Standing, he dragged the table out of the way before coming to the couch and pulling it toward the fire. It took a minute, as it was a heavy son of a bitch, but after some finessing he was satisfied it was close enough without being unsafe for her to sleep on and keep warm. He’d wanted to avoid having her sleep on the floor.

While he’d been moving the furniture, (Y/N) had disappeared. He took a moment to survey the setup, then bent over the fire and took the poker to adjust the logs. She returned several minutes later, pillows and blankets in her arms. She dropped them over the back of the couch, then glanced up and met Flip‘s eyes. She paused, standing nervously, hands twisting together absentmindedly. “Um. Can I get you anything? Milk? Water?”

Flip probably should just thank her and make his way home, he’d done what he could for her. He could easily leave now. Instead, he nodded, “Milk would be nice, thanks.” Spinning around, she hurried away to her kitchen, leaving Flip alone again. He considered his next moves. He could just drink the milk in one gulp and then go home. Only...he wanted to stay. Even if just for a short while. The thought of spending time with (Y/N) that wasn’t during their drives to and from work thrilled him. It couldn't hurt to stay a little longer.

He settled himself on the ground, leaning his back against the couch and crossing his legs comfortably. The warmth from the fire was welcome; it was chilly inside her place.

(Y/N) reappeared, padding across the carpeting, “Here you go,” Handing him his glass, Flip took it and watched as she joined him on the floor, copying his pose so that her knee touched his leg. His heart rate increased.

He grabbed one of the larger blankets and carefully settled it over their laps. They sat in silence for several minutes, each watching the fire dance before them as they sipped their drinks. Flip heaved a sigh of content. “Always loved a good fire.” He admitted, smiling down at her.

“Mmm, me too. Listen, Flip,” Turning to face him, he saw her mouth pressed into a thin line. She tucked her legs back and propped one arm onto the couch. Flip met her gaze steadily, prepared for her to apologize. “I’m really sorr-“

Flip shook his head, cutting her off, “I’m glad you called. I don’t mind, and I can tell you’re more upset than you’re saying.”

Her eyes dropped, looking down into her drink before taking a sip. “I-I’m not a fan of the dark. Silly, I know.” She gave a little laugh that didn’t suit her. Flip could sense she was uncomfortable, tired and still cold. He hated to see her looking so self-conscious, unhappy. It lit something within him that was almost animalistic in its intensity.

“It’s not silly, (Y/N). I don’t like it much myself.” He replied, taking another drink of his milk, finishing it off. “You need to stop apologizing to me all the time, haven’t I told you I could never be upset with you?” When would she start to believe him? He gave her a reassuring smile while his hands gripped the empty glass, attempting to keep himself from reaching out to tuck her hair back or stroke her cheek.

The light of the fire revealed the way her cheeks flushed deliciously at his words, and suddenly she was looking everywhere but at Flip.

“I want you to know, Flip,” (Y/N) shifted, mirroring his position by gripping the glass she held, “You mean the world to me, and I’m thankful every day to...to call you my best friend. You take such good care of me, never make me feel bad...always know what I need,” Her words were rushing out, soft and breathless as she stared down into her drink, “Most men would have probably just told me to start a fire and go back to bed, but you just come straight over and-“ She gestured around to make her point. Slowly, her eyes moved up and met his gaze.

Flip turned her words over in his head, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. To stall for time, he reached over and took her glass from her hands. Setting both on the floor behind him, he came to a decision. Conceding to the desire to touch her, he took her small hands into his own. He ran his thumbs across the soft skin of her wrists, relishing in the contact.

“I like taking care of you, darling. You do so much for me and give yourself no credit. You worry every time you need something yourself,” He searched her eyes as he spoke, wanting to catch any expression that passed through them, “I like spending time with you. Making sure you’re safe, and I-well, you’re my best friend, I’d do anything for you.” He broke off when a hot tear slipped down her cheek and onto the back of his hand.

Her eyes were a storm of emotions as she looked at Flip, tears leaking out, her lips quivering. His whole chest tightened as he watched her. He automatically released her hands, raising his to cup her face. He brushed his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears gently, before meeting her gaze again.

The air in the room seemed to evaporate around them. Electricity shot through Flip’s entire body, and he couldn’t have said who moved first, just that one moment he was looking from her (y/e/c) eyes to her lips, and then their lips pressed together. Flip felt like he’d burst into flames, and he gasped at the sensation.

(Y/N)’s hands had moved up from her lap, now holding the collar of Flip’s sweater and pulling him closer as they kissed. He gripped her face, fingers in her hair, nearly moaned at how soft her lips were against his. Instinctively, his tongue swiped across them, and she responded by parting them, allowing him to slip inside her mouth. He groaned loudly at the overwhelming taste of her, of the heat of her mouth. He'd never tasted anything so fucking perfect.

When she whimpered loudly, it caught Flip entirely off guard. Though heat pulsed straight to his core at the sound, it brought him back into his mind and he jerked back suddenly, breaking the kiss.

(Y/N) hadn’t been expecting his sudden movement, so when Flip had pulled back and her grip on his shirt didn’t loosen, she only ended up falling into him. Her eyes peered up at him, pupils blown and cheeks flushed as she leaned into his chest. She panted, “Wha-?”

Flip was trying to catch his breath, to clear his head. He’d just kissed his best friend. They were alone in her house and they had kissed, and the entire situation was terrifying to him.

He didn’t think he could stop if they kept going.

“I’m sorry, I-fuck, pretty girl, do you know what you do to me?” He growled, his hands still holding her face. Her eyes widened further as he spoke. “Do you realize how much I love you? How fucking perfect you are?”

She was trembling uncontrollably, “Flip, fuck I-did you say you love me?” Shock crossed her face, her mouth falling open into an ‘o’ shape as she processed what he’d said.

Damn it all, he thought. It’s out now. “Are you kidding me? Sweetest, most beautiful woman I ever met.” He huffed, never looking away, “(Y/N), I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you came out of that bathroom, afraid of that damn spider. Keep falling harder every day. You drive me crazy, pretty girl.”

His heart was in his stomach and his mouth had gone dry, but it felt good to admit it out loud, to tell her about the feelings he’d been holding back for so long. She was silent for a long moment, just staring at Flip in complete disbelief. He braced for whatever she was going to say, promising himself that he wouldn’t regret ever telling her the truth, even though his heart might burst right out of his chest.

He hadn’t expected her reaction; when her mind seemed to catch up with itself and the surprise disappeared from her face, replaced by something that had Flip catch his breath. And then her lips were on his again. She was released his collar to push her hands into his hair, whimpering as she pressed her body against his in a frantic flurry of motion.

Flip, though caught off guard, wasted no time in returning the fervour of her kiss, deepening it by sliding one hand further into her hair and pressing her face into his. He licked into her hot mouth eagerly, enjoying the little moans and whimpers that slipped out of her as she kissed him back. After a moment, he dropped the hand that wasn’t woven into her soft locks and gripped her waist, tugging her closer. (Y/N) moved, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him fully.

“Fuck,” He growled when her hips, settled right where he wanted her, ground into him, desperately seeking friction. “Pretty girl.”

Another whimper, “Love it when you call me that, Flip.” She tugged his hair and Flip groaned again, his entire body on fucking fire for this woman. Did she truly not realize the effect she had on him?

He released his hold on her and slid both hands under her sweater, ghosting across her soft stomach as he continued to pepper kisses onto her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck. His hands climbed higher, brushing the undersides of her breasts, his dick twitching as he realized she wore no bra beneath the bulky sweater. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, to suck and bite marks into her skin as she moaned for more, but he needed to make sure, absolutely sure, she wanted this.

With a great effort, he pulled away, his hands stilling on her bare waist, and said her name. Before he could say more, she was cutting him off, eyes bright.

“You big, grumpy man. My rough, tough detective. I love you too,” She ground her hips down again, pulling a growl from deep within Flip. Combined with her words, the effects had Flip slowly coming undone, his clear mind fogging up with thoughts of her, her body, her pleasure. “I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid of losing you. I think about you all the time, did you know that, Flip? Do you know I lay in my bed every night and picture you? Touch myself and it only takes a minute to-“

“Fuck,” He thundered, interrupting her and kissing her again, “Just tell me what you want-I’ll give you anything, everything. Tell me it’s okay-“

“I need you, Flip. I’m yours and I need you,” She accented the words with another swirl of her hips, Flip’s cock now straining against his sweatpants painfully, “Fuck me all night and stay in the morning, Flip.”

His heart filling with joy, Flip had heard what he needed. The next moments were spent frantically undressing one another-first her sweater; Flip’s eyes on her delicious tits as they bounced around while she stood and shimmied her pyjamas and underwear off. He drank in her beautiful, perfect body, all soft curves and flushed skin, as he kicked off his pants.

“Come here, pretty girl,” He rasped, pulling her back into his lap and groaning when her heat skimmed across his cock as she settled. Flip smoothed a hand up her back, bracing her carefully, and then lifted himself, rolling them so that her body lay on the blanket beneath them, her hair fanned out around her. “Fuck, you are so beautiful. Gonna taste you, okay?”

She whimpered her permission as he began his journey downward, taking his time to suck marks into her skin that he would lave over with his tongue to soothe. His hands found their way to her breasts and began to pinch and squeeze, rolling the peaks between a thumb and finger and groaning against her skin when she cried out in pleasure at the sensation.

“Oh god, Flip!” She moaned loudly when he took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue moving over it before he switched to her other breast. His hands slid to her hips, stilling their attempts to seek out the friction he was thus denying her. He trailed his tongue down her stomach, lowered himself to the ground between her legs and kissed the sensitive skin of her thighs, leaving more marks. He felt his cock protesting between his body and the floor but ignored it when he came face to face with her slick centre, already glistening for him. Framed with trimmed, soft curls, it was the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen.

“So fucking wet already, barely even touched you,” Massaging her thighs, he tilted his head up and met her eyes over the swell of her breasts. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Now put your hands in my hair while I taste this perfect fucking cunt.”

Her hands had barely threaded through his locks before his tongue was licking a long strip from the bottom up. Flip watched in delight as her entire body jerked in response, her head dropping to the floor, back arching. A long, low moan escaped her, and then he dove in.

Flip hummed at her taste, perfectly sweet and entirely her, turning him on even more. He licked everything, sucked on her sensitive clit until her legs began to shake, and then repeated it all over again. Occasionally breaking away to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and revelling in the way she cried out his name each time. He never wanted to stop.

More of her juices flowed for him as time passed, as he edged her closer to her peak and then eased her back, teasing her without remorse. He wanted to hear her beg for more. He wasn’t disappointed when, after pulling away the third time, her head popped up, “Flip, please, please let me cum. I fucking need to cum, you’re so perfect, I’m so close I can’t,” She broke off with a desperate whine.

Flip grinned, “Love hearing you beg for me, pretty girl,” He slid two fingers inside of her dripping heat at the same moment he wrapped his lips around her clit. He heard her head hit the floor as she screamed out, obscenities, his name, incomprehensible whines. He only had to thrust his fingers three times, curling them up each time they sunk into her before she came undone.

He was enraptured by the sight of her orgasm, the way her body jerked and tightened, her hands pulling his hair viciously as his name spilled from her lips. He worked her through the crest of her pleasure, humming against her to draw it out and drinking down everything she gave him. He thought he could die a happy man right there, drowning in her.

“Flip, fucking hell!” She cried out one final time, her cunt clenching around him when she became over sensitive to his ministrations. He eased back, kissing her thighs and licking gently at her folds as she came down, her hands dropping from his hair. He could have stayed there for hours, but his cock was protesting. Carefully moving, he brought his body up and lay over top of her, bracing himself on his elbows to keep his weight off of her as she caught her breath.

Flip growled at the sight of her blissed-out expression and kissed her hungrily, sloppily. She moaned, tasting herself on his lips. He leaned back up after a moment, “You still with me, pretty girl?” He gazed at her in concern, hoping he hadn't gone too hard.

A goofy smile split her face, “I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life, Flip Zimmerman. I’m pretty sure I’m on another plain right now.” He laughed, nuzzled her neck and ground his hips down, pressing his cock onto her thigh.

“You feel what you do to me?” His voice was low, “Been thinking about you for fucking months. Every day, all day, it’s just you. ”

“Flip,” (Y/N)‘s voice was breathless beneath him, her hands back in his hair, “Please, need you inside me right now, need to feel you stre-oh FUCK!”

He had slammed into her at her words, unable to hold back a moment longer. Splitting her open until he bottomed out, and then he stilled, panting, and checked in on her again. She was deliciously, dangerously tight around him, her walls already fluttering. She was crying out but nodding, seemingly unable to form words but wanted to convey to him that he could move.

“Good girl, just tell me if it’s too much. If this,” He slammed down again, earning another yelp, “is too much.” And then he began to pump, one arm braced on the ground while the other gripped her hip. He thrust into her wet cunt mercilessly, his eyes always on her face, watching for any change, any indication that she was in pain, but he saw only pleasure. Her screams only drove him on, encouraging him to move harder, to take what she so wanted him to and make her his. It was the best sex of his life, and Flip never wanted it to end.

When he felt himself getting close, he slowed his pace, kissed her once again, and then pulled back. Her heavy eyes watched as Flip, still deep inside of her, came to kneel and then he lifted her hips, adjusting her legs to one side, arms hooking under them. The new angle already had her whimpering before he began to move. She was so tight around him; he could see himself buried to the hilt inside of her and groaned at the perfect, obscene sight.

“Just,” He could barely speak, he was so turned on, “Tap my hand, if it’s too much, darling.” He knew she would tell him if she needed him to go easier, but he needed her to know she was safe with him, that her pleasure was the most important thing to him.

“Fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuck-“

With a roar, he was moving, his hips beginning a brutal pace now that he had the leverage of being on his knees. Her hands twisted into the blanket, tits bouncing as Flip hugged her legs and fucked into her as deep as he could. He repeated her name over and over, the only other sounds in the house that of skin hitting skin, the hot, wet noises her cunt made as she took his length, and her cries for more, harder, for him.

He felt her tightening around him after a short time, walls fluttering and getting wetter as he drove his hips into that spot over and over, unrelenting. “Going to cum for me, pretty girl?”

“I, fuck, Flip, I’m so close-you’re fucking filling me up oh god...”

“Cum, it’s okay, cum for me, please.”

As if waiting for him to ask, she instantly seized up at his words, and Flip almost went over the edge right there when her pussy clamped hard, her body jerking as the wave broke, and her pleasure peaked. He focused, holding off his own orgasm to chase her through hers, to drag it out until tears were in her eyes. His movements became sloppy, only slowing when he felt her begin to relax.

He had briefly wondered if he could keep himself on the edge, try to get another orgasm out of her. But then her voice cut through the air, firmer than it had been all night, and derailed his train of thought.

“Flip, please cum inside me, please, need your cum, please.”

“Fuck, fuck!” He cried out, slamming himself one, two, three more times, her words pulling him over, over, right off of the cliff and into oblivion. He kept his hips moving as he emptied himself inside of her, “Sweet girl, take it, fucking take it all.” Flip moaned, pumping every last drop of his seed with lazy thrusts, (Y/N) whimpering at the sensation of being filled. He had never cum like that in his entire life.

Though tempted to collapse, Flip was cautious as he lowered himself, kissing her stomach, breasts, neck, and then meeting her lips again. His tongue licked her mouth once more before he gripped her waist and rolled them. Now he lay on the floor with (Y/N) on top of him, head on his chest. Her walls still clenched around his cock. They both panted, catching their breath in comfortable silence.

Flip was clutching (Y/N), one hand rubbing gently into her lower back. His thoughts were thundering back, though they were happy. The realization of what had changed in the last two hours was making his heart swell in his chest. With their more primal needs satiated, his mind wandered. Because while that had been the best sex of his life, it was far outshone by the fact that his best friend had told him she was in love with him, too.

Flip grinned, and (Y/N) lifted her head to meet his eyes when she felt his movements.

“Happy with yourself, detective?” She panted, returning his grin with her best smile. Flip grabbed her waist and gently pulled her up, a little groan escaping each of them when his cock slipped out of her. Now level, Flip was able to lean up and kiss her, a chaste peck.

“Pretty girl, you’re the hottest fucking woman on this planet,” His voice was gruff from overexertion, “I feel like the luckiest man.” He continued, earning a happy little giggle.

“You say that like you didn’t just make me cum twice like it was easy.”

“Darling, I can make you cum all night if I want to. Just say the words.” He kissed her forehead softly.

A little whimper escaped before she could catch it. “Not saying I’m against the idea, but I need to use the ladies' room.” She made to get up but Flip held her tighter, stopping her. He wasn’t ready to be apart from her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, not anymore.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered. He repositioned her as he sat up, leading her legs to wrap around him and her arms to circle his neck. (Y/N) bit her lip as she let Flip raise them both from the floor, his hands sliding down to sink into the flesh of her bottom, holding her up. He carried her to the bathroom, kissing her between following her directions to the blue-tiled room.

He set her down on the toilet, then turned to the sink, squinting in the dark. One candle lit the room, and once his eyes adjusted he saw the neatly folded wash clothes on the vanity. He turned on the water and, knowing it would be cold, wet the cloth quickly before taking it to briefly wipe himself. He rinsed it and turned to (Y/N), who was still sitting on the toilet, her eyes following his every move.

“Did you pee?” Smiling at her comfortingly when she shied away from the question, “Pretty girl, let me take care of you.” He brushed his hand across her cheek affectionately.

“I did, yes.” She murmured. Flip nodded, then pushed her legs apart. Taking great care to be gentle, he ran the cool cloth along her folds. Ensuring to only move in one direction. She sighed in content as he cleaned her up.

Tossing the cloth into the sink, Flip picked her up again and moved them back to the living room. “You ever going to let me walk again?” She joked, clutching him close as he settled them down onto the couch. (Y/N) curled against him, one hand threaded in his hair. He reached down and pulled the blanket from the floor, covering their bodies, and kissed the top of her head.

“Meant what I said, darling.” He spoke into the night, his hand trailing up and down her back in soothing motions as the fire continued to warm the room, bathing it in a gentle glow.

The fire illuminated her eyes when she looked up, “I did too, Flip. And I-I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

Flip nodded, one hand on her cheek, thumb brushing across the soft skin, “No, pretty girl, neither do I,” He agreed. They exchanged a look then that Flip would remember over everything else that happened during this utterly perfect night.

It sealed the love they’d been expressing that night, a look that told the other, I love you. I’m never leaving. You are everything to me.

“Get some sleep, beautiful. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

She snuggled in at his soothing words, a low moan of content rushing out before she closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long while, (Y/N) and Flip each fell asleep within minutes. Wrapped in one another’s arms, they would stay there until the sun came up.

Flip didn’t even need to dream that night.

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#reader insert #adam driver #adam driver x reader #fluff #fanfic #friends to lovers #adam driver x you #flip zimmerman x reader #best friend #smut #zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman #new chapter #feedback appreciated #love #multichapter #flip x you

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dreamrecorder · 3 years

Text

Until then, we will find each other again. <||>

fluff & angst drabble, reincarnation au, modern au

| Xiao x Reader | Diluc x Reader |

Note: I'm sorry that I can't put the cut thingy bcos im writing in mobile. Once I get ahold of my laptop I'll put the cut thingy. Happy reading^^ i swear these were supposed to be short but welp

Xiao

Notes: Immortal companion* - Just think of someone immortal from the game. This is also a different take from Venti's and Zhongli's because I honestly think Xiao is so done with immortality and its consequences.

Suicide implicitly mentioned.**

Xiao is mourning for the passing of his immortal companion*, making him the last immortal to walk the world. Now, it is he, who last remains from a time of gods and monsters. Each passing of a mutual, he witnessed. They deemed it was their time to move on, for humanity has succeeded to bring fate into their own two hands. The world no longer needed them.

Xiao has already suffered loss way before the Archon War. Yet, he never expressed the emotion of grief for he needed to be strong lest the world will eat him alive. However, this passing made his heart of glass, chip a little, then shattering the whole thing altogether. Or perhaps, it was already chipped away and too fragile because of the losses that has culminated in his immortal life.

Now, he lays on the roof of a building of what used to be Wangshu Inn. He was trying hard not to break down again. By doing so, he merely cursed fate over and over again. Yet, to no avail, the man exploded in tears once more, too tired from all the pain and loss suffered from millenias.

Then... there's you. You who uttered the words, "Until then, we will find each other again."

With all sincerity he can muster, he wanted to believe those words. He wanted to believe in you. That's why he stayed. Yet... the pain he feels heavily overweighs his faith in you.

He just wants to... end it all.

"I just want to disappear..."

No one heard him utter those words, only the wind. And the wind- just as once the Anemo Archon had said, carries the words one thinks no one can hear.

It came like a whisper, yet loud and clear. Then all of a sudden, the memories of your previous life flashed before your eyes. You dropped the book you were holding and held your temples at the incoming migraine.

"Are you alright?" You friends asked in worry, looking for any visible signs of pain aside from your clenched eyes and your frowning expression.

You could only groan as a reply and your friends waited for you to take your time to recollect yourself.

Who... Whose voice? You knew this voice... But who?

You finally removed your hands and opened your eyes.

"I- I have to go... Go without me." Was all you said before leaving your friends in the dust who looked at your way with confusion.

Who? Many questions riddled your mind. And with all these unanswered, worry and anxiety grew in your heart. Tears began to swell in your eyes, worsening your headache.

This is not about you! You have to look for... something! Someone! Just-

"Dear gods, please please don't you dare fucking take him..."

You sprinted around the area, following and listening to that now faint whisper under the night. The whispers only became clearer and louder when you approached a building which used to be an inn.

The moment you stepped foot within the building, the lone whisper became mixed with more words which did not lift your heart.

Fuck.

With pure adrenaline, you opted to use the stairs instead of the damn elevator. You have finally reached the door leading to the rooftop, and at that point, the whispers became screams. However, when your hand grasped the handle, the voice in the wind stopped. You opened the door at full to be met by the back of the man who stands at the railing.

Xiao...?

Xiao..

Xiao.

"Xiao!"

At the call of his name by a familiar voice, his head whipped to its direction. But he shall not be fooled.

"You... you're not real."

The words along with lifeless eyes stabbed you.

"It's me, Xiao! Y/n! Don't do this! I'm sorry I took so long! But I'm here now! Just as I had promised!"

Your heart was beating against your ribcage. You had to prove you were real. But how?

"You're just an illusion made by my heart."

"Xiao, please! Fuck I'm really sorry! But please you don't have to do this... I... I remember everything, Xiao... All those times we battled in the war. Those times we shared almond tofu. The times we smiled, cried, laughed, and fought...

I remember everything..."

For each word you uttered, you grew confident in your memories. For each word, you took a step closer. For each word, you saw life coming back to the man you love.

"So please... Come back..."

At the final word, you released all your sincerity, genuity, and adoration for him. And finally, your hands took purchase in his (while trying so hard not to shed any tear for his sake).

"It's me."

...

"Y/n...?"

You beamed at him and finally, Xiao's eyes were now shining in clarity, and of course, life and love.

Diluc has been reincarnated many times, yet still has not found you. Through his reincarnated forms, he alternated between travelling and staying in Mondstadt. The former done in order to find you. The latter done in the chance you would find him there.

Diluc

For the first time in his many lifetimes, his current form surprised him. When he reached 'sixteen', his memories resurfaced and the realization sank in. His appearance ended just as how he looked in his first ever lifetime. The only difference was the length of his hair. He even ended up being reincarnated in the Ragnvindr Family along with inheriting the winery business.

To put it bluntly, walking within the old yet maintained Ragnvindr Mansion was a memory lane. However, the moment of reminiscence only gave him a heavy heart, for within these halls used to be filled with your laughter.

In this very same spot where he currently stands, is where you uttered your last words.

"Until then, we will find each other again."

Walking aimlessly around the mansion, he thinks about those long, long years without you. Must be fate so cruel? Making him search far and wide, when in the end fate does not want you to return to him? The man clenched his fists, and in anger, punched the nearby wall.

He expected a bursting kind of pain to come, yet what came was a dull throb on his knuckles. Yet this is not only what he had not expected. He did not expect for the wall to respond with a resounding hollowness.

A hidden corridor? Room? When had the family installed this?

Curiosity held him and began kicking the hollow wall without hesitation. What secrets does it hide from all these years, he shall know. Once the wall opened up for him to fit, he entered with a lit phone in hand at extreme brightness.

Again, what he saw, he had not expected. What he saw both filled and emptied his heart simultaneously. What he saw was a painting of you and him, together in a moment of shared happiness.

"Dilu-" His mother called which snapped out of his trance. His head snapped at her direction and saw her eyes fill with solemness.

"I didn't mean to-"

His mother hushed him with a gentle smile and entered the room to stand alongside him.

"You know," his mother began, "I always believed in the fantasy that had been once in our world. Lord Barbatos, the other Archons, the Twins that saved our world, Visions, and... reincarnation. I always believed in them.

The moment I saw your features when you were born, I knew you were the reincarnation of the Uncrowned King of Mondstadt... So I named you after him because I knew your memories would resurface someday. I knew the day would come when my son will no longer be my son. Because when that day comes, all I would see in your eyes is a long unspoken wisdom and pain that will replace your innocence free from battles and war."

Diluc was surprised, yet kept his emotions to himself. He understood what his mother was pointing at. "Is... Is this why this picture is hidden?"

His mother nodded solemnly. "Perhaps, I was afraid and scared about when the day I spoke of will take place. That's why I ordered this painting be hidden. I knew this painting of you and Lady Y/n will unlock your memories sooner, but I didn't want that."

For once in his lifetimes, his heart softened with love. The kind of love that assures you that someone cares for you. Never in his reincarnated lifetimes, had he experienced this feeling. All those years, he was just... lost in the feelings and thoughts of not being with you.

The man stepped towards his mother with hesitation to which he instantly erased. He hugged his mother with a soft spoken voice saying these words.

"I will always be your son and you will always be my mother. That will never change. I may be 'older' than you, but please do remember that I would not have grown to who am I today without your guidance. For that, I deeply thank you for taking care of me...

I love you, Mom."

With his words, his mother burst into light tears accompanied by a smile. "Don't make me cry, I'm going to wrinkle." Diluc laughed at the comment. After a loving moment, the two separated yet his mother still held onto his arms.

"You've grown so much... I guess little birds do leave the nest someday."

"It wouldn't be possible without you."

His mother looked at him with a proud gaze, "Go. Find her. If memory serves right, I might have seen someone like her dwell everyday in the local library."

The man released his breath he never knew he was holding. Diluc hugged his mom again with a peck on her cheek. He then let go and began to exit the room with haste.

"Once I come home, I will tell you everything. Venti, Morax, the Twin Travelers, the Archons, and Visions. I will tell you everything."

With a rush, Diluc was now out of sight. Yet, the Madam Ragnvindr was not saddened. Her heart swelled for her son whose eyes are finally, once more lit with happiness. However, who's Venti?

A/n: welp truth be told diluc's story took an unexpected turn lol. It's either I'm going to leave this like that or continue it. Take your pick by commenting because I'm actually fine with either options haha happy reading <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc genshin impact #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #xiao genshin impact #xiao #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #genshin imagines

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

A Little Wicked

A/N: so here is your resident zoyalai writer again with another zoyalai fic (bc what’s new) for the @grishaversebigbang mini bang!!!! This had been a fun mini event before the actual big one, and I had the absolute honor to work with two very awesome and great artists @generalstarkov and @jjelliacee!!! I love these two sm they have awesome creations pls give them a follow and no i don’t take no for an answer HAHAHA

Check out their awesome creations in companion with this fic!

@generalstarkov [x]

@jjelliacee [x]

Word count: 2320

Summary: A commotion at one of the Lantsov’s businesses in Kribirsk happens, and it is going to be a lot of paperwork and stress for the Consigliere to work on again. But when he gets there, he doesn’t expect who the main reason of his suffering is.

To say that Zoya was utterly pissed off was an understatement. There was something about seeing the gray shade of the Brum associates's coats that ticked at her patience.

Their color looks dead, Nikolai’s unwanted and yet familiar voice echoed in her head. She wanted to strangle him even when he was not physically there. As if the Lantsov green was any better than gray. But she figured that maybe it was a bit better than the dull shade she was now seeing in front of her.

She had come—escaped—to the small pub downtown in Kribirsk to have some breather away from the fiasco that happened in Os Kervo. She’d already had enough shit from the Brums intercepting the Lantsovs’ arms shipments, and she had held back from going completely undiplomatic on them.

But now, if the Brum lackeys continued their uncivilized talks with her, perhaps she wouldn’t hold back.

“Are you sure you don’t want some company?” he asked for the third time, and the two other men with him laughed.

Zoya suppressed an exasperated sigh as she raised the glass to her lips. She eyed the young man with a narrowed glance, then turned her attention to his cuffs. The embroidery around it looked new, a double black stripes of a newly promoted Soldier from an Associate. His companions had the same rank. So that explained the unawareness of who she really was, and the common principle between the families.

They didn’t have an explicit rule that members of a Family weren’t allowed in another’s business, but all seemed to have an unspoken agreement to stay away from a rival territory unless invited. Out of respect, she figured, and they did maintain it most of the time. Maybe these morons hadn’t been briefed about it yet.

An idea suddenly came to her mind. A mad, trouble-worthy idea that she was sure Nikolai would have enabled if it wasn’t about to give him a headache later. He was her literal headache anyway, so it was only fair if she paid back in kindness. Besides, she could use a bit of stretching today.

Zoya smiled menacingly. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you,” she said in a rather sensual tone, and it earned a grin from the man in the middle. He did as he was told, leaning forward on the table and inching closer to her face. When he was finally near enough, she let out a light chuckle.

Then she swiped the bottle of whiskey from the table and struck it to the man’s head.

He recoiled with a scream of pain, and she didn’t give time for his companions to react and kicked the table to them, causing it to flip over and hit them on their faces. They toppled on the floor in a heap.

“Saints,” Zoya sighed as she stood and opened the top two buttons of her top. She was mad and exhausted and drunk. She needed a breather.

The man who had annoyed her since earlier tried to stand up, but she put her heel to his face and kept him on the floor. His two other companions looked up at her, bewildered. She gave them a pointed glance that had them frozen in their places.

“Who do you think you are, woman?” the man underneath her heel shouted. He tried to twist off from her foot, but she drove her toe further down to his cheek. Another pained groan came from him.

Zoya slowly rolled up the sleeve, showing the dragon tattoo that twisted around the expanse of her forearm.

“Oh, shit,” one of the men said. “It’s the Lantsovs.”

She smirked in return and braced an elbow to her knee, leaning closer to the man. “Allow me to introduce myself, then.”

***

The first thing Nikolai thought of when he saw the state of the building were the paperworks, and it only became worse when he finally got inside and saw more of the mess. When he received a call regarding some ruckus in one of their businesses, he thought it was a prank. Even businesses as small as this still had a lot of records that needed to be taken care of, and it was his job to handle those paperworks. He almost wanted to cry. Couldn’t the people choose any other location than this?

“Nikolai.”

He was startled out of his lamenting when he heard his name called, and he turned to see Tamar with a pitiful expression. “I know, I know,” he said, looking back at the sight in front of him.

Toppled tables and chairs along with broken bottles of expensive drinks littered the floor, and the smell of alcohol filled the pub with a bracing odor. Nikolai looked down to his feet, seeing what he could tell was what was left of a Hennessy bottle lying on the floor. There was a slight twinge in his chest. Such a sad, sad waste.

“I’ve talked to some of the witnesses,” said Tamar after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "I think it was the Brums."

"Dearest saints in the heavens, give me more patience," muttered Nikolai with a wince. Today's news about their shipment getting intercepted had been bad enough. Driving almost two hours to this saintsforsaken town just to know that the same family had caused them another trouble? Atrocious. He could already feel a headache coming at him. "Were the police involved?"

"Yeah, they've arrested four people. Three men, and apparently one woman."

Nikolai put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it gently as if doing so would keep the headache from coming. But when his temple started to pound, he figured the attempt was futile.

Then a thought struck him, and he turned to the Lantsov caporegime with a frown. "There's a woman?" He didn’t know why, but there was an uneasy feeling in his gut. "Arrested?"

"Apparently, yes. It's quite a surprise too."

"Oh, dear me."

The headache finally came to hit him full force, and Nikolai had to wince. His migraine was nasty, but he knew Zoya's anger was nastier if she knew about this ruckus later.

But speaking of that woman….

"Wait, where is Zoya again?" he asked Tamar in genuine wonder. He hadn't heard from her since she reported about the shipments this morning. "And Tolya? Why wasn't she alerted first about this mess?"

The Lantsov caporegime visibly paled, and dread washed over Nikolai. His mind started to come up with the worst scenarios, making the pounding on his temple worse than it already was.

"About that…."

"Tamar," he said, voice hard. Something was definitely not right, and Nikolai narrowed his eyes. Zoya was supposed to be the one handling this matter. Where was she when she was needed? "What is it?"

Tamar sighed, and with a quiet voice, she said, “Tolya is trying to find Zoya.”

“He’s doing what now?”

“He said that Zoya just suddenly got up and drove off after the mess in Os Kervo. He hadn’t seen her since.”

“Where is she? Had he found her?”

As if on cue, a ring tone blared, making the both of them jump. They both scramble for their own phones. It wasn't his phone, so it only meant it was Tamar's.

Tamar winced when she stared at the phone screen. "It's Tolya."

Nikolai snatched the phone from the woman's hands and answered it. "Tolya," he said.

The other line was silent for a moment, and then a slightly panicked, "I can explain."

"Don't mind that. Where is she?"

There was a short pause before the line disconnected. Nikolai frowned.

"What—"

A sharp ting sounded, signaling that a text message had just arrived. He narrowed his eyes at it.

It was an address, and it looked familiar.

Nikolai waited at the front desk of the precinct, with his fingers massaging at his temple to soothe the throbbing away. So this was why he felt a strange dread in his stomach when Tamar mentioned about a woman who got arrested.

Because it was Zoya all along.

The woman on the deks finally returned, and she turned her attention to Nikolai. "Yes?"

He straightened up and fixed his tie. "I'm here for Zoya Nazyalensky," he said, a little unsure if he was speaking coherently. "Attorney Nikolai Lan—"

"Oh, are you her lawyer and husband?"

"Yes, I—" Nikolai blinked. It took a minute for the words to sink in. What? "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Her lawyer husband, or who she says is the one to get her out," the woman said. A shadow of fear flashed across her face. "She and those three other guys caused quite a damage in a bar though."

He raised an eyebrow and turned to the direction where the woman was pointing. There were three men sitting by the bench on the side, huddled up so closely they looked like they were practically glued to each other. The bruises on their faces only proved that they were involved with the mess in the bar. Caused by Zoya. Nikolai narrowed his eyes, noticing the shade of their coats to be ash gray. He scoffed. Brums, indeed. Now he quite understood the anger his boss had.

They finally noticed Nikolai, and, if it was still possible, became paler than they already were. The three of them shrunk back further into their seats.

“They were too afraid to be in the same cell with the woman that got arrested with them and they preferred to stay here in the waiting lounge," the woman said grimly, making him turn back to her. "Scary looking woman, your wife is. Are you here to get her out on bail?"

That is a good question, Nikolai thought. Should he get her out right away? Or let her stay for a few more hours so she could reflect on her mistakes? But knowing Zoya, it's the mistakes that would need to reflect on themselves. "Yes, but can I see my, uh, " he said, "my wife first?"

“Of course. Give me a moment, sir.”

She disappeared from the desk again and made her way to the maze of desks behind her. A few minutes later, she reappeared, but with Zoya Nazyalensky trailing behind her this time. Apparently, his boss didn’t look like she was just arrested—she still walked with deadly grace, with her hand braced on her shoulder where her coat was slung, and a downturned sneer on her lips. But what caught his attention was the bottle in her other hand.

A new wave of pain hit Nikolai’s temple, and he had to sigh in exasperation. How was she able to bring alcohol to the precinct? And they didn’t even take it from her?

Zoya caught his gaze, and her expression quickly melted into a cheery one that terrified Nikolai. She never smiled like that. “Darling,” she said, her voice mocking honey-sweet, “it’s so good to see you.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he replied with the same tone, and it only brought back her dark glare. He winced as he approached her, his hand enclosing around the exposed tattoo on her arm. “Zoya, what the hell. Isn’t it supposed to be me you’re helping to get out of trouble? Why had the tables turned?”

“Questions after questions, dear Consigliere. One at a time. But to not answer anything, I needed a drink, and the Brums pissed me off twice today. I only gave the favor back,” she muttered before she leaned back and laughed lightly, continuing the act of a ‘loving wife’ who was glad to see her husband. Then a glare appeared in her eyes as she looked over the three men on the bench. They visibly shook in fear. “Let’s just get out of here before I decide to completely make them unidentifiable.”

“That doesn’t even help—” He stopped when Zoya gave him a glare. With another sigh, he said, “Fine. But let’s keep it cool until we step out of here, alright?

She just rolled her eyes and put the bottle back to her lips. Nikolai turned back to the front desk with a smile that he was sure looked like a grimace. Then after a few minutes of handling the ordeal, with the amount of bail surely hurting their coffers, they were finally ready to walk freely from the precinct. He sighed as he shoved his wallet back to his coat, and was about to call for Zoya when he heard the sound of a glass breaking.

“If I see you three near our property again—”

Nikolai’s eyes widened when he saw Zoya pointing a half-broken whiskey bottle at the three men, and he scrambled to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to hold her back but her stance was unrelenting. “Zoya, dear, what did I say about keeping it cool?” he mumbled in her ear all the while keeping a smile to his face as he looked around the alarmed people in the precinct.

The three Brum associates only nodded in understanding as if Zoya had completed her sentence, and it seemed to sate her because she finally let Nikolai drag her out of the building. When they got out of the doors, they both dropped the act and immediately stepped away from each other as if they had just burned. Tolya and Tamar were already waiting for them by the car across the street.

“Free at last,” muttered Zoya.

“Why didn’t you text or call me right away?” Nikolai asked incredulously. “Would have gotten some medicine for the headache as precaution.”

Zoya turned to him with a frown. “You speak as if you’re not a headache yourself.” Then she let out an annoyed breath, averted her eyes, and lowly added, “I forgot your number.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement suddenly overpowering his headache. “Zoya Nazyalensky forgetting something? So unheard of,” he said. Then a smile crept up to his lips. This woman was really something else. “And you dare to forget your husband’s number?”

Nikolai barely had the time to dodge the broken bottle flying towards him.

#gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #gang 9 #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #my writing #vincenzo energy was very strong in me and in this one #as well as in my groupmates #and i love that sm #PLS CHECK OUT THEIR FANARTS THEY'RE JUST #GOD TIER #GIVE THEM LOVE AND A FOLLOW TOO!!!!!#i feel like i could have put more chaotic energy but can't go way over the word count LKHJASDFLKJAHFS #pls just one woman beating up men can be something personal #:>#nik is just a tired ~~husband~~ consigliere

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itsamejin · 4 years

Text

goodbye || part 2 (finale) || yoongi angst/fluff

Part 1

Summary: Yoongi watched silently as you exited the car and out of his life, but he can’t help but feel a sense of panic at the thought of you leaving him for good.

Warning: cursing, fighting (verbal), pining

Genre: angst

Premise: Yoongi drives off without you after a heated argument and now you’re gone.

Commission Request: @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom

Word Count: 5,354 words

—

Yoongi paces back and forth as he calls the police to file a missing persons report. Yoongi was on the street he last saw you in and he had scoured through the neighborhood to figure out where you were- even knocking down on a few doors.

He didn’t want to escalate the situation and post about you going missing on social media- that would be too risky. It would hurt his career and possibly put your life in more danger with crazy fans and flashing cameras looming the streets to get a glimpse of you. Lord knows that’s the last thing either of you need at the moment.

“Yeah I was in my car and she left after we got into an argument,” he repeats for what felt like the eleventh time. The dispatch caller kept asking him the same questions. “She was wearing a red dress and I think black heels. Oh, and she had a pearl necklace!”

The dispatcher took note of his descriptions and assured him that patrolling police officers in the area would let him know where you were. After he hung up the phone, his shaky hands brushed his hair back out of exasperation.

It was already two o’clock in the morning by now and everything in his body screamed to be in bed, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to rest without finding you.

Yoongi had driven from the street he last saw you on and to your shared apartment, hoping that you’d somehow shown up between those short intervals of time. His palms were damp from the sweat and he sat on the hood of his car to gain composure. It just felt like the whole world was against him at that moment.

He couldn’t do much by himself, especially being an idol, and it felt like he had no control over the situation. Yoongi risked calling the cops, aware that they’d know of his identity eventually- that he was Suga from BTS.

Yoongi doesn’t know if he could handle the consequences that came with revealing he was in a relationship and what his company would do if the whole world found out that Yoongi let his girlfriend walk out on him in the middle of the night.

That wasn’t what concerned Yoongi the most, though. All he wanted to do was find you and take you home- maybe even give a proper apology. He never expected to file a missing persons report on the one person he thought would stay constant in his life. He felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you being hurt and that made him grip the hood of the car harder.

Red dress. Pearl necklace. Recently heartbroken.

A perfect description.

—

Walking barefoot on concrete, you held your black pumps in one hand and cringed at the crunching sounds underneath your toes. You were still walking. Towards what? You don’t really know.

You were sure, though, that you were closer to a downtown area when the city lights became more luminescent as you walked. The clouds in the sky were graying and a storm was ready to start. If you didn’t find shelter soon then you’d risk getting caught up in rain at a dangerous time of night.

Truthfully, you were frightened. Walking alone at night in an unfamiliar part of town would always incite some sort of paranoia, especially as a girl, but the idea of Yoongi finding you more than anything else is what frightened you the most. You knew he’d be angry with you for storming off and you weren’t ready to face him quite yet.

You winced as you felt a sharp pebble dig into your big toe and you could only walk it off to make the pain go away just a little. A hotel room seemed like the best option at that point, but you left your wallet back in the car. You sighed to yourself. This really was the worst way to make a dramatic exit from a relationship. Yoongi was probably having the time of his life back at the apartment and here you were, picking off tiny rocks from your feet.

Suddenly, you came to a halt.

Crescent Motel: You Pay After Your Stay!

A motel that would let you pay the next day. It was dingy and the beds were most likely infested with bedbugs, but it would have to do for the night. You’ll get yourself out of this rotten dress at the very least. Plus, you could just ask the front desk to call a friend in the morning.

You walk into the lobby, a cozy sort of room with a television on one side of the wall. You wondered if it even really worked.

“Can I get your name?” the receptionist asks. He was a grimy old man that smelled too much of alcohol and smoke. He kind of reminded you of Yoongi in that he never looked at you directly. His eyes were always somewhere else.

“Do you really need my name?” you ask condescendingly. The least the guy could do was make eye-contact. You’ve had a rough day as it is.

He still refuses to look up and slides the room key onto your side of the desk.

“Don’t tell me if you want to,” he grumbles. “I just need something to put down in the records.”

You scoff, taking the keys off the table, and hiking up your dress slightly to walk past him. You pause for a bit and turn back around.

“Put down Yoongi,” you say, a certain conviction in your voice. “And if a guy who looks like a celebrity comes, don’t tell him that I’m here. Got it?”

He gives you a slight glance before he goes back to filing paperwork and chewing his own spit or whatever was in that old mouth of his.

“Is that even your name?” he asks nonchalantly, quickly penning it onto his records before closing the folder. You shake your head.

“It’s my ex-boyfriend’s,” you say, slightly cringing at the sound of it. Ex.

“Thought so,” the man muttered and you can’t help but laugh. Like Yoongi indeed.

The room key had B28 etched very finely on it and so you ventured on to find the room you’d be staying in for the night. Despite your assumptions, it was actually quite a nice room- dated at most. There was a single bed with light bedding, enough to get you through the night. You shed yourself of the red dress and put on the robe provided by the motel.

Lightning struck outside and you could hear the first drops of rainfall. You sit on the bed with shaky hands, slightly startled at the sound. Almost suddenly, you feel a sense of sadness overcome you.

Yoongi was probably at home, sleeping without much thought, while you had to struggle through an hour of walking to find a place to stay. It made your blood boil, knowing that he was probably fine without you in his life.

If you were a little smarter in your decision-making than maybe Yoongi would have dropped you off somewhere closer to home or maybe you would have gotten enough time to gather your belongings from the apartment. Now you were just in an unfamiliar room, wearing an unfamiliar robe, staring at an unfamiliar wall.

—

Yoongi sits inside as the rain pours heavily on his car windows. The cops are searching through the streets and yet not a sign of you has appeared. Big Hit was informed and now the whole Gangnam Police Force was forced to keep everything under wraps to keep his situation as discreet as possible. This meant, though, that there would be no large-scale search parties and less of a chance to find you.

As the rain poured outside, Yoongi grows restless in his car. There was too much on his mind and yet not enough of his thoughts were fleshed out enough to even act on them. He needed to clear his thoughts.

Yoongi opens the door and walks out of the car, allowing the droplets of water to hit him. It served as a good distraction for the ache in his chest and pretty soon, his hair was practically soaked. He feels a tap on his shoulder.

It’s a police officer.

“Someone reported seeing a woman who matches Ms. [Y/N] at the downtown area,” he informs. “We have reason to believe that she might have taken shelter in a nearby building.”

Yoongi nods, still quite out of it. What would he even do if he actually sees you? What could he possibly say?

‘Hey, I admit I fucked up, can we go back to normal again?’ didn’t quite cut it and he knew you wanted more from him than just a simple apology. You wanted a change in the relationship, an indication that you were more than just a secret to him. He just doesn’t know where to start without completely ruining his future.

“We’ll search around that strip. For now, you should go back home,” the cop suggests. Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’ll do my own search,” he says lowly. Yoongi turns back to his car and sits in the driver’s seat, wincing at the feeling of his wet clothes on the leather seats. He takes a look at the handbag on the passenger seat and feels a lump form at his throat. You couldn’t have gone far... right?

He drove in the dead of night, water splashing across the windows of his car. It was hard to drive with such a big migraine, but the thought of you being out there stranded left him restless.

It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep without you by his side anyway.

—

You laid on the bed, listening to the droplets of water hit the roof of the motel. It was soothing in a way, to know that the world was crying just as much as you were. It felt useless to try and close your eyes and ignore the aching in your heart and so it only made sense to wallow in your own sadness.

You search for your phone, but remember that it’s not with you. You sigh to yourself, using your elbow to cover your eyes but to no avail. Just sleep and forget his existence. Sounds easier said than done, doesn’t it?

You adjust yourself on the bed and try to imagine Yoongi sleeping next to you. It’s a common practice of yours. Even when you were angry, even when you hated his guts, you could not sleep peacefully without Yoongi by your side.

He was a constant presence and when he’d be gone for tours and business trips, you were left fatigued and worn out because of your lack of sleep. It wasn’t healthy, for sure, but that’s what happens when you get into relationships. You grow dependent.

You imagine the Yoongi in front of you humming a lullaby. You imagine that he’s stroking your hair wistfully and whispering that everything will be okay. You imagine that this Yoongi would never dream of hurting you, never dream to even try.

For a second, it worked, but you were left with a deeper feeling of emptiness. That Yoongi didn’t seem to exist.

—

Yoongi finds a place, a little worn down but suitable enough to assume that you’d probably settle for it. Plus, it was the only nearby motel that would let you pay after staying- he had your handbag and phone with him after all. He walks in, soaked and worry etched all over his face. It was a strange sight indeed. A guy with dyed hair, soaked and carrying a woman’s handbag- not exactly the most ideal sight for a motel manager.

The man at the counter gives him a glare, not even bothering to hide his disdainful expression.

“Listen, kid, if you’re gonna rent a room-”

“I’m here to look for someone,” Yoongi cuts him off, a certain urgency in his voice that catches the elder man off-guard. ‘A guy who certainly looked like a celebrity,’ he thought to himself.

“Her name’s [Y/N],” Yoongi continues, “and she was wearing a red dress and had black heels on. She was probably distressed or seemed angry. Have you seen her?”

The old man just sighs, looking Yoongi dead straight in the eye.

“No,” he replies, too stern for the younger boy to truly believe.

Yoongi clenches his teeth. This run down, poor excuse of a motel was his only shot at finding you. Now, it felt like there were no other options but to wait. And he hated waiting.

Yoongi’s eyelids were growing heavy and he felt about ready to collapse from the coldness of his wet skin. This is not how he wanted to end the day off, with mild hypothermia and a broken heart.

“Then can I stay here,” Yoongi pleads, taking another step forward much to the old man’s dismay. “Just for tonight.”

He grunts in response.

“I’ll pay extra. It’s just...”

He trails off, not quite knowing how much he should reveal to a total stranger. There was still a possibility this guy would know he is, but judging from the lack of interest, Yoongi assumed it was safe to just confide in someone. Anyone.

“My girlfriend walked out on me and I need to stay in this area just in case the police find her around here,” he says in a single breath. “Then why this place?” the old man sighs. “There’s plenty of high-end hotels on this street you could stay at.”

He takes a look once more at Yoongi’s feet.

“And you’re ruining the carpet,” he grumbled.

Yoongi bites his lip, now in front of the secretarial desk. This man was pissing him off. Yoongi digs into the pocket of his jeans and takes out his wallet. He smacks a wad of cash onto it, staring at the man dead in the eye.

“Is this enough?” he asks through gritted teeth. The man scoffs and pushes the money away.

Your girlfriend isn’t here, kid. Now get lost before I call the cops on you.”

Yoongi pulls out more, his eyes now getting teary-eyed. The man stares at Yoongi’s shaking fingers. He was quite persistent, wasn't he?

“I just need a place to fucking stay,” Yoongi repeats with more of a timber in his voice. The old man stares at Yoongi directly, the first time he's met eyes with another person in a while.

“You’re the type to think money fixes everything- aren’t you?”

The man glares at him. Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly. You had said those words to him just earlier in the night. He pulls his hand back but leaves the money on the counter.

“N-no,” he says through bated breaths. “I’m not usually like this, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi ruffles his hair and wipes a stray tear out of his eye.

“I’m just really desperate to find her,” he continues. “I’ve just been acting like a fucking dumbass for the past few hours.”

The old man sucked in a deep breath before exhaling loudly. ‘This was a pitiful sight indeed,’ he thought to himself.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Yoongi wanted to introduce himself as Suga by instinct, but he knew it probably would not have occurred to the old man who you were.

“Yoongi,” he says slowly. “Min Yoongi.”

The old man looks at his list and sure enough, the name you had given him was right there. Your ex. It wasn’t any of his business to help fix a broken couple, but it was in his best interest to get this weeping boy out of his lobby. He takes a pair of keys from under the table.

“I’m not letting you stay because all the rooms are booked,” he states throwing the keys to Yoongi who was caught off-guard. “I’ll let you take this one, but you better not bring the feds here. I’m not ready for this place to shut down again.”

Yoongi nods, slightly confused about why he would hold back giving him a room in the first place. He muttered a small thanks before bowing to the older male.

“Now get out of the lobby,” he scolded, glaring at the wet footprints Yoongi left behind.

He took a look at the keys to see the room number. B28.

—

You were ready to drift off into sleep but it seems the world has a way of wanting you to fear for your life.

You heard a jingling noise at your door, the doorknob turning as if a key was inserted. You held your breath, afraid for your life. You stood up quietly, grabbing the rather large lampshade next to your bed. ‘This motel was shady for a reason,’ you thought to yourself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath. You got ready into a tackling stance, the lampshade in hand. You took enough self-defense classes to know what you’re doing. When it swung open, the door almost hit you on the face. That didn't deter you though and so you charged at the stranger with all your might.

“Woah,” Yoongi shouts as he just missed your swing, pivoting to the side as you stumbled past him. You recognized that voice in an instant and you locked eyes with Yoongi who was noticeably soaked and carrying your handbag. It was embarrassing, how badly you missed, and he would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the context of the situation.

You stood up straight and give him a glare. Somehow, it made you angrier seeing his face, but you couldn’t quite express that anger when Yoongi brought you into his arms almost immediately. The lampshade and bag fell onto the rug with a thud and you were engulfed by his body.

“[Y/N],” he sighed into your hair, the anxiety of losing you now gone from his mind. He pulls away, examining your body.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi says, panic laced in his voice. “I was so fucking worried something happened. You left your stuff in the car and I brought them with me just in case and-”

You push him away, annoyed with the wet droplets that now stained your robe.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yelled. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“The old man let me in,” Yoongi swallowed. “I guess he knew that I needed to see you.” You roll your eyes. You knew that old fart couldn’t be trusted.

“Well get out,” you say frankly. “I don’t want to see you.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking you back home.”

You take a step back from him.

“Yoongi,” you say, scarily slow. “Give me my bag and leave. I’m not going to say it again.”

You try to reach for the bag that was on the floor next to him, but he pulled it away.

“I thought I fucking lost you, you know that?” his voice was shaking. “I thought you’d be gone and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Yoongi looked at you with pleading eyes and it almost made you want to comfort him. Almost.

“Well you did,” you reply sternly.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“I’m tired [Y/N],” he admits sadly, dropping the wet bag onto the bed. “I don’t know what else to do besides apologize.”

You grit your teeth.

“Leave.”

Yoongi shakes his head and you cringe as he sits down, the bed getting wet because of him. It would’ve made you even more pissed if it weren’t for the tears spilling from your eyes.

“I thought I fucking lost you,” he sighs into his hands. You could hear a shakiness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Yoongi was always quieter in how he expressed his feelings. He isn’t the type to just cry outright.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to apologize in the morning,” he tried to say, but you could tell he was a bit choked up, “that I fucked everything up and you’d still be missing or you’d wound up dead or something.” He grounds his face into his palms and it genuinely made you feel sorry for him. You did kind of leave without a trace.

“And its fucking raining,” he says a little more calmly, looking up at you with red eyes. “You hate when you get stuck in the rain.”

It broke your heart, the way he chuckled sadly at his own statement. For the first time ever, it felt like he was the broken one and not you.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, setting aside his wet bangs. You were calmer now. “Go home.”

He shakes his head and leans into your touch.

“I can’t sleep without you by my side,” he whispers and you swear you could hear your heart crack. You weren’t the only one to feel that way too...

You didn’t have the heart to forgive him, but you couldn’t let him go back out in the pouring rain.

“You can stay here,” you say. “I’ll find another room.”

He grabs your wrists and intertwines his hands into yours.

“Please,” he pleads. “Just stay with me. I’ll leave before you wake up.”

You wanted so desperately to say no, but it was clear now that Yoongi was just as hurt as you were. It was in the way he held your hands as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. His fingers were shaky and you could do nothing but comply.

You nod despite it all and detach yourself from him to close the door. You walk over to the closet and take out a spare robe. You hand it to him without a second glance, moving to the other side of the bed.

“Tell the police to stop searching,” you say as you lay underneath the sheets that weren’t dampened by Yoongi. “You found me.”

The words, strangely, were enough to comfort him. He called the head officer and with much difficulty, got everything to be cleared out. He’d have to suffer the consequences tomorrow, but for now, he just wanted to search for comfort in your presence.

Pretty soon he laid next to you in his new robe. You turn to face away from him, afraid of making eye-contact. You were always too forgiving when you looked him in the eyes. Yoongi didn’t make any movement to get closer, he just watched your slowing breaths and wondered to himself.

“You are good enough,” he says into the night. It came out of nowhere and it makes your heart stop momentarily.

“Earlier when you said you didn’t feel good enough to be with me,” he starts off with his voice incredibly low. “You are good enough.”

You take a deep breath to prevent yourself from being too emotional. You turn to face him, about to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I’m not going to apologize again, don’t worry,” he swallows. “I just wanted to let you know that you mean much more to me than I show.”

He closes his eyes for a second before continuing on.

“I’m bad at keeping relationships,” he says honestly, “but I want to stay with you... as long as you would let me.”

You laugh through the sadness of it all. You two were far too tired to have a screaming match with one another and it felt good to just talk rather than yell.

“Yoongi, why did you tell Hoseok you didn’t want to be with me?” you ask, no ill intent in your voice. “I want a genuine answer.”

You could feel him shuffle around in the bed out of discomfort.

“I was mad at you,” he said as nicely as he could put it. “I was frustrated that you kept asking me to reveal our relationship to the public.”

You stay still, worried about what he would say next. It would be the final blow to your already crumbled pride.

“It’s stupid to even admit it and I don’t have any real excuses, but...”

He somehow couldn’t finish his sentence.

“But what?”

He sighs and turns the other way. Now he was the one ignoring confrontation.

“I liked that we were our own little secret you know?” he starts and you feel your blood boil a little at his words, but he continued. “So much of my life is broadcasted to the world and I feel like nothing is really mine anymore. Every single moment is dedicated to my fans and whenever you ask me to let that go, it just feels like I��m losing a part of myself more and more. The part that isn’t an idol.”

You understood what he meant, but at the same time, you felt like it was oddly selfish of him.

“I don’t like being a secret, Yoongi,” you say to him. No anger in your voice, just disappointment. He clenches his fist.

“Yeah, I understand that,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry.”

You reach out a hand towards him and he shivers at your touch. You pull into him, laying your head on his shoulder blade.

“You said you wouldn’t say it anymore,” you mutter into his body.

He shrugs.

“I don’t think I’ve said it enough,” he admits, holding your hand in his. This was how he wanted to end the day off- with you by his side.

“I’m sorry too,” you say and he feels himself crumble at your words. He turns around slowly and engulfs you in his arms.

“Moments like this,” he sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “I want it to be between us.”

“It would still be you and me, no matter what,” you reply.

“I know,” he says solemnly. “But people will try to get between us and I doubt want to hurt you more than I already have.”

You nod along, but you could feel tears start to prick in your eyes.

“I just don’t want to feel like you’re hiding me from everyone,” you admit. “Being with you should be enough, but somehow it isn’t.”

He strokes your head and the two of you don’t speak any longer.

“I’m sorry.”

You find yourself unable to cry at his words. It seems like he had given up and to you, that’s what frightened you the most. You clench onto him as if he’d disappear at any moment. A few minutes ago, that’s all you would have wanted, but now it seemed like you’d die without him by your side. He eases your panic by rubbing your back and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. He stares off into the darkness of the motel room, whispering to no one in particular.

“I’ll do better.”

—

You find yourself alone the next morning, sprawled out on the bed. Your phone and bag were left on the nightstand and the lampshade went back to its proper place. He left you in the room as if he wasn’t there in the first place. You take a look at the closet and see that he laid out clothes for you from home. Tears start to fall. It was over, wasn’t it?

Last night felt like a goodbye, like a last farewell. Maybe you were asking for it in the way you shouted at him the night before, but your heart was still heavy at the thought of him leaving. You didn’t hate him, you could never hate him, but both of you said so many horrible things last night that you wonder if it could ever be taken back.

You get yourself dressed and walk down to the lobby where the wet footprints of last night no longer stained the carpet. You lock eyes with the old man and slide the keys to him. You take out your wallet, prepared to pay until he stops you.

“He covered it already.”

Your jaw drops slightly and you clutch the cash in your fingers.

“You let him into my room,” you accuse. “I told you to tell him I wasn’t here.”

He ignores your watchful gaze, arranging some stuff on his desk that was already quite pristine.

“You got the closure you wanted, didn’t you?” he grumbled.

“That’s not the point. He could’ve been a serial killer for all you know and you-”

“But he wasn’t,” the old man rolled his eyes. “He was your ex that fucking paid twice the amount you pulled out. I promise you, your safety was a passing thought to me.”

You sigh angrily, scrounging through your purse. Your phone was charged, presumably from Yoongi, and so you called a friend to get you out of this dingy motel. You’d report this crusty old man later. Surprisingly she picked up quite quickly.

“Hey-”

“[Y/N]!” she screeched through the other line. “Look at the news! Oh my fucking god, Yoongi just-”

Your hands were shaking, not paying attention to the rest of her words. Nothing bad could have happened from last night, could it? You hung up before she could screech in your ears once again.

You couldn’t type out his name on your phone fast enough from how shaky your hands were until you heard the sound of the lobby television turn on. The old man had the remote in his hand and he gave you a smirk. You turn your attention away from him and toward the screen instead.

“BigHit Entertainment confirms that BTS’s Suga is in a relationship,” the announcer states with a stern voice. “He asks for people not pry on the identity of his non-celebrity girlfriend and any malicious comments or rumors will be legally dealt with by his agency. More updates soon.”

You felt your eyes tear up, happiness swelling on your chest. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe he actually did it.

“You’re welcome, you know,” the old man said slyly. You ignore his words, slapping a rather large sum of money on the desk before rushing outside. You call him this time, happy tears streaming down your face. Yoongi didn’t even have a chance to say hello before you started talking.

“I love you,” you scream into your phone. You repeat the words so much that you could hear your own echo.

“Babe, I’m getting scolded right now,” he laughed. “I’ll talk to you later okay? No celebrations yet.”

You nod, slightly worried about his statement.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” you ask worriedly. “They’re not planning to kick you out or anything?”

He scoffs.

“And lose one of their best songwriters? Not a chance.”

You shake your head.

“Still cocky as always though,” you tease.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

You purse your lips. He had to make a lot of sacrifices too.

“I love you,” he says lowly. “And I’m not gonna make you ever doubt that again.”

You close your eyes at the sound of his confession. It felt genuine like he didn’t say it just to end an argument. It felt real.

“I love you too.”

He gives a toothy grin, knowing full well that you aren’t able to see how stupidly satisfied his face is. The managers looked at him with watchful gazes and he nervously coughed, wiping the smile off of his.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” he replies, “You know, in our home.”

You smile lightly.

“Okay, see you later then,” you say, already listing all the complications that come with going public, but you’re much happier nonetheless. There’d be no more rumors of him dating other girls or random idols trying to set themselves up with him. Maybe there’d still be doubts, but in the end, you’d figure out a way to work it out. That’s how relationships are after all. “Goodbye,” he said cheerily through the receiver, trying to ignore the staff members telling him to hang up the phone. “I love you [Y/N].”

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you giggle at his repeated confession. “I love you too.”

—

A/N: I didn’t want to end this off on a bad note but I didn’t want to end it off on a super good note either. Of course, problems will still arise in a relationship so I left it off kind of bittersweet (more sweet in this case) but yeah. Thanks again to @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom for being so amazing and so patient with this, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know how you guys feel!! Leave me any comments, criticism, anything!

I know some of you guys wanted an angst ending but I do too many angst endings and I just feel like I wanted to switch things up you know?? Also... keep an eye out for my drabble game that I’ll post in a few days. I will accept the first ten requests ;)

PS: I don’t respond to comments on my stories because this is my side blog so if I reply back it’ll be on my main blog :((( I’ll try to figure out a way so that I can respond to you guys because I really want to be more interactive. Let me know if you guys have loopholes for this problem thank youuu

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

@sicktember Prompt # 4: Headache/Migraine

Title: Misery Loves Company

Fandom: Knives Out

Based on this post (sneezing on a bus)

Marta Cabrera is miserable in the big city. However, when she meets someone even more miserable, she offers them whatever comfort she can.

(Author's note: Another new fandom for me! Ransom Drysdale is the perfect whumpee in my opinion, so of course I had to make him sneeze.)

Marta kept her eyes squeezed shut as the bus stopped yet again. She was only about halfway back to her aunt's house, and the trip was not doing her migraine any favors.

This whole thing was stupid, really. The state insisted that she needed to come to the city to do her final testing for her visiting nurse job, saying it was the only way she could be certified, but in her opinion, it was pointless. She already had a position (albeit under the table), and Harlan Thrombey didn't seem to care whether she was certified or not. However, she doubted the state would see it that way.

She hated big cities. They were all too loud and bright. She didn't know how her family could stand living here. All the lights and sounds and smells had been giving her a headache since the day she arrived, but today it had developed into a full-blown migraine, of course the day of her last and most important test. She had clicked on answers as quickly as she could, unsure if they were correct or not, just trying to get out of there so she could get back to her bed at her aunt's house and block out the world. Thankfully, she was headed home tomorrow.

A few more people had gotten on the bus at the recent stop, and one of them sat right beside her; she felt the seat shift as they did. She didn't open her eyes, pretending to be asleep, not wanting to see all the bright lights or risk having to make conversation with a stranger.

Because she had no visual warning, naturally she jumped when the person beside her sneezed twice, loudly and wetly. She almost opened her eyes to bless them, but thought better of it, because that would almost certainly encourage conversation.

She expected a nose blow but didn't hear one. Instead the person sniffled again and again, sounding miserable, with little noises of frustration interspersed.

A few moments later, the inevitable happened and they sneezed again, once, twice. This pair was more ragged and weary, clearly coming from a person who had been sneezing for some time, and knew they wouldn't stop sneezing anytime soon. It was exactly the way Harlan sounded during his spring allergies.

With a small sigh, Marta opened her eyes, knowing she wouldn't be able to ignore this person for the next 20 minutes. They were clearly worse off than she was. She looked over at them with a "bless you" on her lips, but instead her eyes widened when she saw who it was.

"Ransom?"

His head snapped around and their eyes met. He was more flushed and disheveled than usual, but it was definitely Harlan's grandson. "Do I… know you?" he asked, hoarse and congested.

"I'm Marta. I'm your grandfather's nurse."

Recognition flashed across his features. "Right, yeah. Sorry, didn't notice you." He awkwardly wiped his nose on his coat sleeve.

"It's fine. What are you… doing in the city?"

"Met some friends, went to some parties." He coughed a bit and wrinkled his nose, trying to prevent himself from sneezing she imagined. He really did look sick.

"That's nice," Marta replied. He didn't ask her what she was doing here, and she didn't expect him to. "You sound a bit under the weather."

"You could say that," he muttered ruefully. "I always get sick when I come here." He pressed a wrist to his forehead absently. She wondered if he was running a fever. "I hate the city honestly. It's so dirty," he continued, scowling.

She wanted to ask why he bothered coming at all then, but she saw his nostrils flaring as he prepared to sneeze again.

"Heh-GEHH'choo! HEH'choo!" He sneezed directly into his hands, with no tissue in sight. Marta blessed him quietly. When he finished, he simply wiped his hands on his pants, looking annoyed. Marta worked to keep her face blank, though she was quite disgusted.

"Don't have any tissues on me," he muttered darkly, reading her thoughts. "So gross."

"Here." Marta produced a cellophane-wrapped package of Kleenex from her bag. "You clearly need these more than I do."

"Oh, great." He quickly pulled out a handful, blowing his nose immediately. No thanks seemed to be forthcoming, and again, Marta was not surprised. Blowing his nose seemed to help though, because he seemed less in danger of sneezing after he was done. Ransom made no effort to continue their conversation from there, so neither did she.

When the bus again came to a halt, Random stood, moving toward the door.

"This is my stop. Guess I'll see you around home sometime… Maria right?"

"It's Marta. But yes, I suppose you will."

With a last cursory nod, he was gone.

Marta sighed and shook her head, closing her eyes again as the bus began to move, and willing the rest of the ride to go quickly.

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #prompt 4 #everyone is hotter with a fever

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Drunk in Love (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42

A/N: Mik gets very, very drunk and acts even dumber than usual. His boyfriends come to reign him in. TW for heavy alcohol use/drunkeness. Thank you x1000000 to Holtz for beta-ing <3 title from Drunk in Love by Beyonce.

Rosé had never thought of himself as old, not really. Sure, he jokes about it, especially on days where he sleeps wrong and strains his neck or his back hurts for no reason, or nights where he just can’t keep his eyes open past eleven. But he can still party, still drink, still recovers quickly from even the most stunt-heavy gigs. So he’s not old, or so he used to think.

Then he and Denali started dating Mik.

Mik isn’t unreasonable; he’s happy to spend a quiet night at home now and again. But ninety percent of the time, even when he’s not working, he wants to go out to the club or the bar, some friend’s party or some event he saw on Instagram. And that’s fine; Denali and Rosé will come along, make an appearance and have fun for a few hours.

It’s when it’s the fourth night in a row that Mik expects them to be out until 3 AM that’s the real problem. As young and hip as both of them still claim to be, keeping up with Mik is like trying to play tag with the energizer bunny. The kid can drink them both under the table and still be up the next day with only a mild headache, and he can dance in heels for the entire night without needing to take them off. Hell, Rosé has seen Mik up at 4:30 AM before while looking completely unbothered, and when he wakes up at noon the next day he’s not even so much as a little bit groggy.

So it’s no surprise that sometimes, Denali and Rosé have to bow out to recover from the adventures Mik drags them into, instead staying home to watch the news and head to bed early.

Not that that makes them old. It doesn’t.

Really. It doesn’t.

Unfortunately, his body doesn’t seem to agree with him when he’s snapped out of sleep one night by his phone ringing, his eyes sore from the strain of being kept open as he gropes around in the dark for the source of the blaring noise.

“Wha—Rosie?” Denali stirs beside him, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he sits up and watches Rosé answer the call.

“It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, Kandy, what could you possibly need?” he hisses, too tired and pissed to care if Kandy hears him clearly over the thumping music in the background.

“You need to come get your man!” Kandy practically screams, causing Rosé to jerk back and bring his phone away from his ear. “Like, now!”

Jesus Christ.

Rosé is about to ask what Mik has done, but he’s cut off by screaming in the background, a very familiar one that he instantly recognizes as his boyfriend’s.

“ Whozzat Kandlee whozzit whozzit OH MY GOD IS IT PIZZA? Gagged oh my gag, I want pizza can you call pizza make it extra pep—Pepe—fuck, just make it cheese—“

Rosé pinches the bridge of his nose when the next thing he hears is a series of thuds and then a little WHOO followed by peals of Mik’s drunken laughter.

“We have to go get him, don’t we?” Denali flops back down onto his pillow with a groan, and it almost pains Rosé to nod, poking his partner to get him up again.

“Send me the address, we’ll be there ASAP.”

—

The club is loud and dark, flashes of coloured lights exploding every few seconds but still not quite managing to illuminate much more than the silhouettes of people packed into every square inch of the room, dancing against each other or standing with drinks in hand, yelling over the beat vibrating the floor under Rosé’s feet as he walks. Behind him, Denali’s hand squeezes his shoulder, the other man holding on tightly so as not to get lost as they scan through the chaos to try and find their boyfriend.

Not that they have to look for long; they’re only about halfway through the dancefloor when Mik’s voice catches their ears, loud and hoarse and slurring so much they can hardly understand what he’s screaming.

One look at who he’s screaming at, though, and they already know that whatever’s going on can’t be good.

“Hey, hey, asshole! Hey, I said fight me! Come on, you afraid? Fight me fight me fight me!” Mik is screeching in the face of a man twice his size as he fights against Kandy’s hold, trying to get closer to the guy. To his credit, the stranger doesn’t even bat an eye, just ignores Mik like he’s a fly buzzing around him. Which, size- and muscles-wise, Mik pretty much is.

“Oh, fuck, thank God you guys are here,” Kandy grunts as Rosé and Denali push themselves over to the scene, sighing deeply in tandem as Mik continues to wriggle in his friend’s arms. “I don’t even know what his problem is, he just saw this guy and decided he want to fight him--”

“That’s right, that’s right-- HEY!” Mik catches sight of Denali and Rosé and immediately stills, grinning widely, and for a moment, Rosé thinks it’s over, that just the sight of them has tamed drunk-Mik enough that he won’t antagonize the meathead still miraculously ignoring him any more.

It’s wishful thinking, though, because not even a moment later, Mik is turning back to the guy, eyes narrowing as he hisses, “My boyfriends are here now, they’ll fuck you up, you wait and see--”

Of course, it’s just their luck that it’s that threat that finally wakes the troll, the guy turning to stare at he and Denali and frowning deeply before he puts his drink back down on the bar and stands up from his seat, immediately towering over them.

“Listen, I don’t know what your guys’ problem is--” the man clenches his jaw, fists balling by his sides, and wow , his pecs are huge, like size-of-Mik’s-head huge, and if one of them doesn’t say something fast, Rosé just knows that all four of them are gonna wind up getting thrown through a wall.

So he smiles, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before stepping forward and laying a hand on the guy’s shoulder.

“Listen, mama. I’m gonna level with you, okay?” He locks eyes with the man, who doesn’t look particularly impressed, but who nonetheless listens as Rosé continues, “It’s two-thirty in the morning. I just got here. My back hurts just standing right now, and I’m going to wake up with a splitting migraine tomorrow. My boyfriend is drunk out of his mind, and between you and me, even when he’s not, he’s an absolute idiot. Neither of us came to fight you. We just wanna take him home, put him to bed, and then possibly ground him for the rest of his life after he wakes up and has nothing but Advil for breakfast tomorrow. What do you say, baby, can you let us off scott-free just this once?” he winks, hoping that seals the deal, and either it works or the man just doesn’t care enough, because he rolls his eyes, breaking free of Rosé’s touch and climbing back into his seat with a huff.

“Whatever, man. Just get his drunk ass home.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be a satisfactory answer for Mik, who finally breaks free from Kandy, surging forward and pointing towards the man.

“Hey, asshole! This isn’t over, I’m gonna--”

Before he can finish, though, Rosé picks the younger boy up and tosses him over his shoulder without another word, ignoring the kicking and screaming and tossing one last apologetic smile and wink to the man before following Denali back through the crowd and out of the club.

The ride home is tense, Denali having to turn up the radio all the way to keep himself awake at the wheel while Rosé attempts to keep a singing Mik from unbuckling his seatbelt to climb up front. Thank God the club isn’t too far from their apartment; by the time they’ve parked, Mik isn’t even singing the same songs as the radio anymore, and the not-so-dulcet screeches aren’t exactly music to Rosé’s ears, especially not this late, when he’s this annoyed.

“Can you just please, please be quiet?” he growls as he unbuckles the younger man, scooping him up again to carry him towards the building’s door. There’s no real need for the request, though; because the minute they reach the elevator, Rosé realizes with a jolt that Mik has gone completely quiet.

“Is he asleep or dead?” Denali peers over as Rosé looks down at the man in his arms, genuinely wondering the same. But then Mik lets out a quiet snore, and both Rosé and Denali breathe out a sigh of relief.

Good; it means tomorrow they’ll be able to kill him themselves.

—

It’s almost eleven o’clock the next morning when Mik finally trudges out of bed, squinting and frowning against the sunlight that trickles in through the kitchen window.

“Well, if it isn’t sleeping ugly,” Rosé teases, grinning in petty delight when Mik doesn’t respond, only flips him off before collapsing into the seat beside him at the table. “Feeling good after last night?”

“I legitimately feel like I’m going to die.” Mik groans, putting his head down on the table in front of him.

“Here, have some water instead.” Denali suggests kindly, coming around the kitchen counter to put down a large glass full of ice water in front of the younger man, followed by an extra-strength Advil and extra-strength Tylenol tucked in a napkin. Mik takes them both in one big swig, gulping down the water like he’s found a stream in the desert and not stopping until the glass is empty save for the few cubes he hasn’t sucked into his mouth to crunch on.

“Was I really that drunk?” Mik asks, wincing at the tiny thump the glass makes as he sets it back down on the table. “‘Cause honestly, you guys, I don’t remember any of it, but I don’t usually get this hungover--”

“When we came to pick you up, a dude the size of Everest was about to pound your ass into the ground, and not in the good way, so yes, you really were that drunk.” Rosé snorts, and he has to admit, it’s kind of satisfying to see Mik’s eyes bug out of his head when he realizes the trouble he’d caused, the danger he’d put himself--and, by extension, Rosé, Denali, and Kandy--in.

“Holy shit,” he starts, “Guys, I’m—“

“We know,” Denali ruffles Mik’s hair before walking back into the kitchen, opening the fridge and scanning its contents, “It’s okay.”

“As long as you’re safe.” Rosé affirms, and as much as he wants to keep being bitter, he means it—he really would take a thousand sleepless nights for the man sitting beside him.

“Thanks for understanding.” Mik sighs out in relief, leaning back in his chair.

In the kitchen, Denali begins to take food out of the fridge, placing coconut oil, flour, and vegan bacon on the counter, and Rosé can’t help but roll his eyes and smile when he sees Mik eye the ingredients hungrily.

“Tell you what, baby, how bout you go back to sleep, and we’ll call you when breakfast is ready, ‘kay?”

Mik just nods, licking his lips, before standing up and beginning to head back towards the bedroom. He stops, though, when he hears Rosé’s voice piping up one more time.

“Oh, and Kade?” Rosé’s petty streak comes back just a little when Mik freezes at hearing his real name, satisfaction tickling at Rosé’s chest when Mik turns around to face him again, swallowing hard.

“Yeah?”

“You ever pull that shit again, Kandy’s stuffing your ass in an Uber and you’re sleeping on the couch.”

#rpdr fanfiction #gottmik #denali foxx #rosé #denali x gottmik x rosé #canon compliant #sluff #poly #s13 #writworm42

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dokifluffs · 4 years

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Overdone | Bakugo Katsuki

Pairing: Katsuki X Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: sick and rainy hehe

Author’s Note: i finished BNHA so I’ve been itching to write some bakugou imagines

*Note: minor swearing -- “Dumbass” although he could say a lot worse but he doesn’t cause of you ;)

the faintest amount of light from outside began to peek into your room

Your eyes were barely open as you laid in your dorm bed, afraid of making your nausea worse

You knew this would happen whenever you used your quirk too much or went over your limits

Your quirk was a form of life essence

With a quick gesture of your arm, bodies could be made from things like pebbles and leaves

The more stuff, the bigger and stronger you could make a weapon of offense or defense

But the bigger the from, the more life it drained from you

Plus it always strained your eyes like Aizawa’s quirk

But you could blink — just keep it to a minimum

Your blankets and covers had fallen to the ground over the night as you barely slept due to your ever-growing migraine and fever, your feet meeting the cold wooden floors, sending a chill up your body

Cautiously, you slowly shuffled out of bed and into the hall, silence filled the dorm

Dark grayness and gloominess fell over UA as you were the only one awake as rain tapped peacefully against the wide windows of the UA dorms

You stayed by the walls, cautious not to make too loud of any sounds, bracing yourself so you didn’t stumble or fall

Luckily there were no classes the next day, but still, training became a routine whenever there was no class

And you needed to get stronger to be a hero

You approached a door at the end of the hallway and steadied yourself as much as you could against the wall by the door frame

You weakly brought your hand up to the door, knocking on it with the last bits of your energy

The sound of the knocks themselves pounded against your head a bit but alas, the door swung open surprisingly with no yelling

His crimson eyes looked down to you with such anger before he realized who stood before him

You clung to the door frame for security, hoping you wouldn’t fall, not here cause if you did, you knew there would be a loud thud that could wake the others

“Katsuki… it hurts…” you said quietly, barely louder than the echoing rain in the hall

You were paled and it seemed like you were about to pass out in the doorway

His arm went beneath your shoulders as he helped you into his dorm, shutting it with his foot behind him

He was normally so angry, especially when his sleep was disturbed

Kirishima and Kaminari learned the hard way unfortunately

“You overdid yourself, dumbass,” he scolded you as he held the side of your head with his hand, inspecting your eyes since he saw how worn they were

How long did you suffer like this until now?

His other hand held your arm, stabilizing your balance so you wouldn’t suddenly fall if you passed out

Memories of his battle in class yesterday flashed in his memory

Being Bakugou as he is, he, of course, went full out

Subtly the two of you were training partners since the two of you were together

Have been together for the past six to seven months without anyone really knowing or suspecting anything

As your body drained of more energy making all the forms to somehow beat him, it took a toll on your body

One that you would have to grow and expand your quirk on your own

You needed to get stronger

He stood from you and walked away

All you heard was the sound of his steps as they went around his room

He opened a drawer and then his closet and came back

You were looking at all the posters he had hung in his dorm which no one really saw because they never asked and if they did, they were rejected entry

“Change into this,” he said in his usual aggressive tone, but you knew this was his softness for you

He stood with one hand on his hip as you slowly took your shirt off and put his on

He had seen your body before so this wasn’t new to him, but he felt the warm flush of heat spread on his face for a brief moment

He took your shirt and tossed it to his desk before he knelt down

He brushed your hair to the side, clearing your forehead to him as he stuck the cooling pad onto your skin

With that, he discarded the wrapper and returned to bed

He laid you down and laid beside you, getting comfortable before he pulled you onto him, with the blanket up to your stomachs

One arm kept you securely on your lower back as his fingers lightly traced small nothings into your skin

His other hand combed through your hair, tugging it just the slightest bit every now and massaging it knowing how it slowly helped

“Don’t overdo yourself in training, dumbass. Take care of yourself and slowly build from your limit,” he scolded you

Your head laid on his chest and you slowly looked up to him

“Mmhm,” you gave him a soft smile to which he only looked away from you, but you didn’t miss how his features softened

When he looked back to you still looking, he “lashed” out at you

“Get some sleep, stop staring at me,” he growled as he pulled your closer (if that was even possible)

He laid in bed awake as he listened to the rain and listened to your breathing, hearing it steadily slow down as you finally slept

Deep inside though, he was worried about you

You were powerful, but you weren’t strong enough just yet. You could be stronger and he knew he would help you make you stronger

You were his badass and he was your hot head but it was times like these where he was grateful you weren’t stubborn enough to keep to yourself

All in all, he loved and cared for you deeply and was relieved to have someone like you who cared for him too within his hard shell

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

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13. Christmas Lights

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregiver: Chan, Jisung, Felix

Noone‘s POV.:

Stray Kids were on their long-awaited Christmas days. It was only for a few days but they finally had some time to relax. Being unable to travel home, Chan, Felix and Jisung spent most of their time in their rooms, facetiming their respective families. Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin had gone home to spent the holiday season with their families. Jeongin was supposed to travel home a day after them too but as the the day to get on the train home arrived, he woke up not feeling like himself. Afraid he might be falling ill, he didn‘t feel up to taking the long train ride and decided he‘d stay with his three hyungs at the dorm. He called his mother to explain the situation, who was understandingly worried but he assured her he‘d have his hyungs around him who‘d take care of him just fine. When Chan asked him why he wasn‘t heading out already during breakfast, the maknae explained that he‘d be staying back with them, so his hyungs wouldn‘t feel too lonely or homesick. Cooing at the concerns of their youngest, Jisung and Felix hugged Jeongin tightly, touched that he would choose them over his family.

After breakfast however, each member withdrew themselves to their rooms and computers. Not wanting to hang around Jisung while he was talking to his family, Jeongin tried to avoid their shared room as much as possible. He grabbed a book and made himself a home on the couch. The slightly off feeling he had had all day only grew as the time passed, so the youngest decided to just take a short nap in an attempt to sleep it off. That was his first mistake. When he blinked his eyes open about an hour later, his head was pounding, making it hard for him to even lift it from the pillow. Struggling into a seated position, his vision went black for a few seconds while the couch under him seemed to move. Jeongin took deep breaths to rid himself of the dizziness while tears sprung into his eyes. He was no stranger to migraines but having one around Christmas while being away from home sucked. The only thing he was thankful for was not boarding the train this morning, otherwise he‘d be stuck on a moving vehicle with a migraine.

Feeling safe to stand up after a few minutes, the maknae slowly made his way to his oldest hyung‘s room and knocked gently. Receiving no reply, he figured both Chan and Felix must be wearing their headsets as to not disturb the other‘s conversation. He knocked harder but after getting no answer still, he just entered the room, startling both of the Aussies. He could tell they were both a bit irritated at him for disrupting their videocalls but tried to not let it show too much. “What do you need?“, Chan asked, glancing back at his screen. He didn‘t even spare his dongsaeng a proper glance, otherwise he would have noticed the paleness of his skin, the slight pink rims around his eyes along with the held back tears of pain and the tense crease on his forehead. “Hyung, do we have any painkillers?“, the maknae asked, gaze turned to the floor as he curled his toes. “There must be some aspirin in the bathroom cabinet, why?“, Felix replied in a low voice, not looking up from his videocall. “I-I just have a bit of a headache“, Jeongin mumbled, wanting to leave the room as quickly as possible since he didn‘t feel very welcome there with the cold treatment he was getting. “Just take an aspirin and lie down for a while. Remember to drink enough water“, Chan advised, nodding at his dongsaeng before turning all of his attention towards the screen again.

Fleeing the discomfort he had felt, the maknae shuffled into the bathroom, each of his steps, no matter how hard he tried to keep them light, sent shockwaves of pain through his skull. Before being able to even open the bathroom cabinet, he had to hold onto the sink as his head swam and his stomach churned. Keeping his eyes screwed shut he hovered over the sink, convinced he‘d lose his breakfast at any minute but unable to move over to the toilet. After what felt like an eternity of being frozen motionless in his spot, the nausea grew less intense. It was still lingering in his stomach but he didn‘t feel on the verge of throwing up anymore. He quickly went through the cabinet, finding the pills Felix had told him about. However he doubted he‘d be able to stomach them at the moment and instead shoved two of them into his pocket. He knew the pain wouldn‘t get better anytime soon, rather increase as time passed, if he didn‘t take anything for it. Sadly, he was also sure, if he put anything into his stomach at the moment, it would come back up faster than he had choked it down. The maknae was in dear need for comfort from any of his hyungs but afraid of bothering the two Aussies again. That‘s why he decided to go to the room he shared with Jisung. He‘d have his hyung around and would be able to rest in his own bed rather than the couch.

The journey their was a long one, with his head hammering along to the beat of his heart as Jeongin dizzily trailed his hand along the walls for balance. As it was his own room, he didn‘t bother to knock but instead stumbled straight to his bed to sit down. The impact of letting himself plop down sent a sharp stabbing pain through his head and he saw bright flashes of light in front of his eyes. The sensations becoming to much, the maknae couldn‘t help but whimper, fighting back his tears. His distress went unheard by the rapper in his room who sat facing away from Jeongin with his headphones on. The youngest sat for a while with his face in his hands, debating whether he should approach the older or not, afraid he‘d get the same reaction as earlier. After a few minutes of sitting there, his wish and need for some support exceeded his anxiety hand he stood up on wobbly legs, tapping the rapper‘s shoulder. “Hm? What is it Innie?“, Jisung hummed, focus still on the videocall he had with his family, barely paying the maknae any mind. “M-my head h-hurts“, the younger mumbled quietly. “Aw, did you already take anything for it“, the older asked emotionless without looking up. “N-no hyung. My stomach f-felt off, so I didn‘t want to take the medicine“, Jeongin explained. “I don‘t know what you expect me to do, Innie. If you refuse to take medicine there is not much I can tell you. There are some crackers in the kitchen, maybe if you eat those first they‘ll settle your stomach enough for the pills. If you don‘t want that, just try to sleep it off“, the rapper glanced up shortly to shoot the younger a sad smile, despite sounding rather annoyed. The maknae nodded though his hyung was looking away and didn‘t see it.

The ground seemed to move under his feet as Jeongin fought his way to the kitchen with his head pounding with the rhythm of his heart. By now the pain had become unbearable and all he wanted for his hyungs to be with him and to tell him it would all be ok eventually if he just hung on a little longer but the maknae was on his own. In one of the drawers in the kitchen, he found the crackers Jisung had talked about. Tearing open the packaging, his stomach twisted at the sight of food. The youngest had to rest his head on the arms he had crossed on the counter, taking steady breaths through his nose till the nausea subsided a bit. He understood Jisung‘s line of thought, he had no right to ask for help from the others if he refused to help himself. That‘s why, moving as close to the sink as possible, he forced himself to follow Jisung‘s advice and nibble on some crackers after eyeing them distastefully for a few minutes. To his own surprise, the first two crackers did nothing. However, when he bit into the third one, he could feel his stomach rising up his throat. Luckily, he was already standing over the sink when the first wave shot past his lips. Sobbing, Jeongin clutched his pounding head, which seemed to explode from the strain of vomiting. His sobs soon triggered another gag, which brought up even more. Having no mercy on the young boy, his stomach kept expelling its contents till there was nothing left and the maknae‘s vision was clouded with black spots. All he knew was that if he didn‘t lay down immediately, he would pass out. So that‘s what he did, stretching his slender frame out on the kitchen floor, too weak to even call for help. Not that his hyungs would have heard his cries anyways, all of them being in their own little world, oblivious to their donsaeng‘s distress.

Jeongin didn‘t know how long he had been lying on the ground, he didn‘t know much at all. Between the ringing in his ears and the sparks in his vision, all he knew was that his head hurt and it hurt badly. All he could do was trying not to move while trying to breathe steadily as tears streamed down his face and the ground seemed to steal his body temperature from him. “Fuck, Jeongin, hey! Can you hear me?“, from somewhere he heard Jisung‘s voice and cried out at the loud noise. Trying to locate his hyung, he opened his eyes a crack, only to notice, there were no lights on and it was already dark outside. “Turn on the lights, so I can take a proper look at him!“, that was Chan, who had run in upon hearing Jisung‘s yell. Suddenly everything was bright, burning Jeongin‘s eyes which he barely managed to close in time before covering his face with his hands to block it out. He was too exhausted to cry, only small whimpers leaving his mouth.

Watching the maknae‘s reaction, Felix immediately turned the light off again, walking up to the trio on the kitchen floor. From his standing position, he saw what the other two didn‘t notice. The sink was filled with puke, next to it lay a cracker and two painkillers. Remembering their conversation with the maknae earlier, he was able to connect the dots. Gently pushing Jisung aside, he knelt down next to Jeongin and covered his ears before speaking up quietly: “I think he has a migraine. He told us about a headache, he threw up in the sink and the way he reacted to the light. It‘d only make sense.“ After checking the sink, Chan agreed, feeling guilty for misjudging the situation earlier. Jisung rubbed up and down his roommate‘s arm, trying to calm him down while Felix removed his hands, whispering into his dongsaeng‘s ear: “Innie, we‘re going to put you on the couch ok, you feel cold to the touch already. Just keep your eyes closed, we‘ll be careful.“

After carrying Jeongin to the couch, Felix left to gather some blankets. He couldn‘t imagine how long the maknae must have been on the floor for his skin to feel as cold as it did. Chan knelt next to the couch, carding his fingers through the sick boy‘s hair. “Innie, it‘s a migraine isn’t it?“, he hummed as quietly as he could. Nodding his head the tiniest bit, the maknae couldn‘t help the strangled sob that escaped his lips. The leader cooed, rubbing Jeongin‘s arm, at a loss how he could help the other. He frowned as he took notice of the small shivers shaking the maknae‘s body: “Do you know how long you‘ve been lying there?“ Jeongin just shrugged, all he knew was that the sun was still up when he lay down and now it was dark.

While, Felix had gone to collect a few blankets, Jisung had filled to hot-waterbottles and carried them to the living room. As he approached the couch, he placed one at his dongsaeng‘s feet and put the other in his arms, so the maknae could hold onto the source of warmth. Felix followed soon with the blankets, layering them on top pf the shivering boy and tucking in the sides to trap all the heat. Being exhausted, the warmth and Chan‘s hand in his hair managed to calm Jeongin down, despite the pain pulsating relentlessly. “Innie, we‘ll have to turn on the light again. We can‘t really see you, nor each other with how dark it is“, Chan explained carefully, not wanting to put the younger through this torture again but they couldn‘t help him if they couldn‘t see. “Hyung, what if we just turn in all the Christmas lights and maybe light a candle? It‘ll be dim but enough for us to see“, Felix muttered in a low voice. Barely able to register Chan‘s nod, he end Jisung started their task of switching on their Christmas decoration and lighting a candle on the coffee table. Soon their was a cozy ambience in the living room and the maknae dared to open his eyes. He was able to look at his hyungs without the light stabbing his eyes and he could tell they all looked very guilty. “Do you think you could stomach the painkillers now?“, Jisung whispered, holding the pills he had collected from the kitchen counter. Jeongin shrugged, still not fully trusting his stomach but he agreed to try when Felix promised to get a bucket, just in case.

Chan sat on the couch with Jeongin‘s head on his thigh, so he could continue petting his hair while the four of them waited for the painkillers to kick in. Felix had climbed onto the couch, squeezing in next to his dongsaeng while draping an arm across his chest. Jisung had pulled up a chair from the dining table and sat next to the couch, holding his roommates hand. He was the first to apologize for brushing the maknae off without giving him a proper look. Chan and Felix were soon to follow. The apologies brought their youngest to tears once again, as he remembered, how hurt and abandoned he had felt. However, being the pure child he is, he quickly forgave his hyungs, accepting all the comfort they were giving him now. He‘d rather get their affection late than not getting it at all.

When the pills had dulled the pain enough for his stomach to stop doing somersaults and he could get up without feeling dizzy, Jeongin allowed his hyungs to feed him some plain rice. He had barely eaten all day and what he had eaten, hadn‘t stayed in. Felix had offered to watch movies in the living room but got turned down, since the maknae struggled to look at a bright screen still. However, he also didn‘t want Chan to carry him to bed because he had fallen in love with the ambience in the living room. That‘s why the trio stayed cuddled up on the couch till late into the night when Chan took the sleeping Jeongin to his bed, letting Jisung slip under the blanket too so he could hold the youngest, before the leader tucked both of them in. Afraid to let their sick dongsaeng out of sight, the two Aussies shared Jisung‘s bed, falling asleep in each other‘s embrace.

#skz #stray kids #whump #emeto #sick #sickfic #yang jeongin #bang chan #lee felix #han jisung #christmas #comfort #fluff

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fourmarkdove · 4 years

Text

Tiger.

Title: Tiger.

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2.6k

Summary: You suffer through terrible migraines and push others away because of them. One man breaks through your self-imposed fortress of solitude.

Warnings: Pain, angst, fluff.

A/N: Migraines. Started writing this during one. Ended writing this during another one. Comments are welcome. Thanks for reading!

You moaned yourself awake. Pain gripped the muscles tight across your face and stabbed like a serrated knife behind your left eye.

Acute pain like that made decisions seem just out of reach and words difficult to find. It felt like it knocked you back to a primitive state; you just ached to be held and for it to stop tormenting you.

Drawing your knees up and head down, you literally curled into the fetal position and whimpered aloud. Your cold fingers felt like an ice pack pressed to your eye socket. Your brain was aflame.

You’d lost and just plain avoided relationships the last few years. Who would put up with this looming specter? It was frustrating enough to deal with this nonsense yourself. You couldn't force it upon anyone else, so you kept to yourself.

Even on the best days, your coordination was subpar so it was no surprise when you’d spilled tea on the coffeehouse floor, you slipped in it. You expected to hit the tile hard but a pair of large hands caught under your arms and lifted you back onto your heels.

He offered a soft smile and worried brow, sitting with you a moment while a flash of bright light swept across your vision indicating another attack was eminent.

Noting your struggle to find abortive meds in your bag, he suggested it might be a good idea to get a ride instead of driving home yourself. You agreed home was a good idea but had a meeting to get to - one to show your architectural design portfolio. You were wincing in pain, moreso by the second, when he inquired about the location of your meeting downtown. He said it was near the Daily Planet and he’d be happy to get you there. You didn’t want to be a burden but the concern lingering in his blue eyes made you relent. He typed his number into your phone when he dropped you off and said if you needed him for anything, even a ride home, he’d be there. Something in those bright blue eyes and intonation seemed so familiar. Had you been more alert, you’d have been shocked by how easy it was to trust this good natured puppy of a man.

You never called him for that ride home; you were embarrassed that he saw you in such miserable shape when he appeared to be in pretty top physical shape himself. Over the next few weeks, you passed by each other in the coffee shop, exchanging “good morning” greetings. Beyond that, you never spoke or saw each other again.

Now in the solitude of your misery, you thumbed through your phone and found his number. He did say anything. And if he wasn’t awake, he’d get the message too late in the morning and you’d make an excuse about meaning to text someone else.

Hurting. Miserable. Advice?

You didn’t need advice. You’d lived with this most of your life and tried every drug, vitamin, tea, diet change and yoga position. Just shy of a lobotomy, nothing worked. You just didn’t want to be alone, trapped, in pain.

Tossing your phone on the bed, you dug your nails into your scalp attempting to create pain elsewhere that might distract from the torture in your face and behind your eye. You didn’t expect your phone to buzz immediately.

I’m so sorry to hear you’re struggling. I could come over in a few with a cold drink. Have you eaten? Best, CK

Squinting at the dim light on your phone you thought a long moment, pressing your dry lips together. You’d thrown up hours ago and a cold drink did sound nice.

Not lately. Sprite pls? Ty ty

Writhing in bed, you just could not find a position that made the overwhelming pain feel any better. You resorted to letting yourself whimper desperate cries with every exhale. Pathetic.

Of course. I’ll be right there. Do you need anything else? Best, CK

You did your best to roll over and crawl out of bed. If you had company coming, you needed to at least brush your teeth and pull back your hair. Stumbling to the bathroom in the dark, you leaned heavily on the door frame. The pain screamed through your head; every nerve across your face set ablaze like a searing electrical fire.

Well beyond the point of thinking clearly, your nails dug into your scalp, clawing, desperate, and you sunk down to the cool tile floor and curled up there, unable to process anything other than the primal urge to soak up the numbing cold.

He didn’t bother with the guise and formality of knocking at your front door. Pushing it open as if it’d not been bolted, he dropped the bag from the store at the door and rounded the corner to the bathroom. Not yet completely used to the sound of your voice, he’d heard something like the whimpers of a mortally wounded animal from blocks away.

He found you curled up, in the bathroom, passed out. Kneeling, his brow furrowed deeply with concern and he squeezed your wrist, calling your name. He tapped your shoulder but nothing came of it. You were limp as a rag doll and your skin glistened with a thin film of slippery sweat. You managed to get one arm pulled out of your tank top off before you collapsed entirely, so the damp fabric draped partly around your neck like a scarf.

He pulled away strands of hair clinging to your face. “Y/n, come on. Wake up. It’s me. Clark, remember?”

His brow furrowed further still and jaw tensed from clenching his teeth. Sliding a forearm under your legs, he turned and lifted you gently, letting your head fall against his shoulder as he scooped you up effortlessly and took you back to the bed where your sheets had been balled up and nearly torn off completely.

‘What kind of torture chamber is this?’ he thought to himself.

Lying you out as carefully as a feather on a silken pillow, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled your arm back through your shirt. His long fingers slid under your neck and thumbed the base of your skull. He could hear the woosh of blood pounding through constricted vessels and the scent of adrenaline on your skin.

Your expression sharpened when he thumbed down the back of your neck, right to the rigid muscle at the top of your shoulder. Pressing his thumb into it, the stubborn muscle almost immediately gave up. A tiny whine escaped your lips which he took as positive sign so he touched the other side, getting it to release, too.

Your eyes winced open. Even in the dark, it was too bright. “C-Clark?” You croaked. “I’m so sorry I -“

An anxious smile only slightly distracted from the gnawing pain.

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. His gaze was so kind despite the worry in those large blue pools. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I’m dying,” you quipped humorlessly.

He huffed a slight chuckle. “My mom used to get migraines, especially during tornado season, so I sort of know a few tricks. May I?”

“Please,” you ached wearily. Shrugging out of his jacket, he put up a finger to indicate he’d be right back, even though you couldn’t see it through the blur. Stalking to the front door, he returned a moment later with a blue bag that he set beside the bed.

He sat on the edge again and untwisted the green bottle of Sprite, and slid it into your shaky hand. Helping you sit up, he blew lightly over two of his fingers while you sipped. Whisper gently he stroked his frozen fingers over your forehead. Your eyes squeezed shut and you cooed softly, setting the bottle down between your legs. Silently, you leaned into his touch in relief as the pain tidal wave began to ebb. A slight smile creased the corners of his eyes seeing the tension melting from your expression. He blew on his other hand and ran two sets of fingers down your temples and then between your eyebrows, sweeping lightly over your sinuses.

Your lips parted and you moaned out loud. He didn’t jump but definitely glanced down at your hand pawing at his thigh, wordlessly expressing the relief and gratitude you felt.

“Real lightning storm in there, huh?” he asked just above a whisper.

You hummed letting your fingertips spread against his thigh.

“May I take down your hair?” he asked gently, blowing over both sets of fingertips again.

You nodded, completely giving yourself over to being touched. You didn’t care how - you only knew he was making it so much better and in the crushing despair, you craved the comforting.

Smoothing both palms up the back of your neck to the fallen bun atop your head, he loosened the band and slid the elastic around his wrist, easing your hair down with his splayed fingers. He frowned harshly, circling over the crescent shaped indentations along your scalp. There was desperation under his fingertips and it made his stomach tighten up.

Lost in the sensation, your body rocked forward until your forehead touched his shoulder. This was much too intimate, to be held and caressed in your own bed by someone you’d only really talked to once. “I… I’m... sorry...”

He side eyed you from behind his glasses when you palmed his chest lazily intending to push yourself away but made absolutely no effort to do so.

“It’s fine. Really. Is this helping at all?”

Humming in the affirmative, you squished your cheek against his pec and sighed deeply, feeling tension in your back draining away while his broad palm pressed between your shoulder blades. Carefully lowering you back into bed, he pulled the covers up.

“Try to sleep, okay? I’ll just be on the couch,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb against your shoulder. Comfortable again, you’d already fallen back to sleep before your body even touched the bed.

Stumbling out of bed about 2am with a blanket wrapped around yourself, you headed to the kitchen. Your stomach was rumbling but what to make that required as little energy as possible?

“Banana? Banana.” You said to yourself out loud tugging on the not quite ripe bunch on the counter.

“Need help?”

You yelped, dropping the bananas on the floor with several thumps. He stood in the doorway with a fading grin.

“I thought I was alone,” you said hoarsely. “Thought you were a… fever dream or something.”

“Nope, I’m very real,” he explained, bending to scoop up the mess of fruit at your feet and blow on a couple fingers.

Straightening up, he put the bananas back on the counter. It made him smile slightly to see you blush and go wide eyed when he closed the distance between you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, searching your eyes, sweeping his cool fingertips over your forehead. You blinked slowly, not entirely aware you were letting out the softest purr but he definitely heard it. He smiled down at you as he caressed over your face.

“I’m… okay,” you sighed dreamily after several long moments. “Hungry though.”

“Let me make you something,” he appealed, thumbing slow circles into the back of your neck only after you dropped your head and pointed. He chuckled and listened; that heartbeat wasn’t thumping quite as hard in your head anymore.

“Probably something light to start. Toast and fruit? You seem to be craving bananas.”

“Thank you, Clark,” you sighed, peeking up at him through your fallen hair.

“‘Course,” he shrugged it off with an easy smile. He seemed to have plenty of those to offer. “Now you go curl up on the couch. Didn’t know how long I’d be here for so I loaded up 76 on your xBox. Without the DLCs it’s absolute trash, though. If it’s done you’re welcome to take it for a test drive while I get some snacks ready.”

The tableside lamp cast a warm glow which you settled under, drawing your blanket up closer. The comforting scent of melted butter scraped over toasted bread wafted in from the kitchen. It made you smile and close your eyes listening to him humming to himself as he worked. Just as he sat down with the tray in both hands, the xBox restarted and he grinned at you.

“Perfect timing! Peppermint tea?”

Collecting your cup from the tray, you sat back against your end of the couch and wrapped both hands around it, inhaling the tingly minty scent and sighed. He’d traded the tray with teas and toast and - wait, where did he find a single pink tulip? - for the console controller. He was all grins loading the game up, adjusting his glasses.

“See? This is already SO much better,” he said with mock annoyance, motioning with his hand at the big screen opposite the couch. “Looks like Bethesda finally got their shi- What are you doing?”

He arched a playful eyebrow at you. It was so unlike you but you actually started to giggle. The sound, the crackle sensation in the back of your throat and chest, felt foreign.

“Nothing,” you cooed softly, drawing your cold toes back from where you’d been trying to wiggle them under his thigh for warmth. You sipped your tea.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, the very slightest of smirks lifting the corner of his lips. His gaze returned to the game and he thumbed over the controller quickly.

Wordlessly, he lifted his thigh and sighed, feigning exasperation. You let out an excited squeak, sliding your feet under his thigh which he then rested down over you, making you sigh.

Without looking over, he took one hand off the controller and tucked your blanket over your ankles. “There now. Better?”

“Mmhmmmm,” you cooed, putting your tea down on your chest as you slid down on the couch into the pillows.

“Anyone ever told you that you may be part cat?”

“Mm?”

“Mm like the cats and kittens we had on the farm back home. They love scritches behind the ears, seek out warm places to take naps, seem to climb all over ME for some reason.”

You lifted your head as he exchanged your tea for toast. You nibbled on the corner and couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe it’s because you keep feeding them.”

He chuckled and paused the game, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “Could be. Somebody’s got to look after them, though.”

“Might as well be you, hm?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as sharply as it did.

His smile started to fade a bit and a furrow creased his brow. “Might be. Might be somebody else. It’s only a problem if they think they’re not worth the attention.”

It made your cheeks burn and chest feel all fluttery. Was this flirting? You couldn’t remember. “Clark?”

“Mhm.”

“We’re still talking about cats, right?”

A sly smirk lifted his features as he collected the controller in both hands again. “You. I like you,” he husked, giving you a side eyed glance.

“And cats.”

“More of a dog guy if I’m honest.”

“Wait… WHAT are we talking about then?”

He tossed his head back and chuckled. “Eat your toast, Tiger.”

#henry cavill #henrycavill #clark kent #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent fluff #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill comfort

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

Pain Reliever

read on ao3

Billy didn’t get headaches.

It wasn’t a minor dull pain that encompassed his skull. It wasn’t something that could easily be cured with a Tylenol or whatever off brand alternative was in their medicine cabinet. It wasn’t something that came sporadically. Every once and a while having an ache brought on by a various stressor.

No. Billy got migraines.

Migraines that compared to a stabbing pain localized on one area around his head. Behind the eye. Back of the head. His temple. All the pain of a headache centralized and focused and absolute hell. A pain so strong that he couldn’t open his eyes, any light at all being too bright against his blue eyes. Loud sounds ringing and bouncing off his skull making it worse and worse. Strong smells invading his sinuses and traveling into his brain creating a fiery burn. And nothing helped. No medication easing the pain. No dietary restrictions or vitamin supplements or even fucking meditation doing anything at all.

The pain could last for days. Even though sleep had seemed to be the only remedy, sometimes even that didn’t work. Sometimes he’d wake up in the morning and the morning sun would set fire to his eyes.

Oftentimes the pain would get so severe he would vomit up the entire contents of his stomach, until he was spitting up bile and dry heaving into the toilet bowl.

He’s had them since he was a kid. His father did too. Yet another undesirable trait he inherited from his father. But back then they weren’t so severe. He could generally push himself through the pain. The vomiting only ever happened on rare occasions. And sleep always got them to go away. He never woke up with a headache.

But then Starcourt had to happen. And he was in a coma for two months. And when he woke up underneath the fluorescent light bouncing off the white walls of his hospital room, his head pounded against his skull, like it was trying to escape from his body. He could hear his heartbeat echo in his head. His vision blurred and the incessant beeping of his heart monitor sending him into a craze. He slammed his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could and his whole body tensed.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

The pain was so bad that he didn’t even recognize the gaping hole in his chest that was still healing over. Broken ribs that once punctured lungs no longer being the thing preventing him from breathing easy. The disorienting pulsating and the overwhelming nausea now being the vice.

And when he succumbed to the nausea, when he let his stomach churn and his throat open up, there was nothing that came out. just a pathetic glob of yellow bile and air. The heaving sensation finally caused him to recognize the pain in his chest where he had been skewered.

Billy wasn’t supposed to survive. When people asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, or what his plans were after high school. He’d tell you he didn’t know. Because he could never envision a life for himself past the age of eighteen. Couldn’t picture a life where it wasn’t his father who was standing over him as he took his final breaths. He definitely couldn’t picture a life where instead of his dad, it was a massive fleshy monster. And he most certainly would not have expected him to fucking survive it.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to die tragically. With everyone around him wondering what they could have done to prevent it, but never actually caring that he died. Only giving a shit about what it did to their conscience.

It was surprising that he was still alive. That whatever greater power there was out there had decided that it wasn’t time. It went against everything he believed for himself. It was a shock. But nothing could have prepared him for the shock of a lifetime that was Steve Harrington sitting at his bedside holding his fucking hand as he heaved into a plastic container.

Not a single thing made sense when he woke up. When he closed his eyes on the floor of that mall, he thought he’d died the villain he was destined to be. He never expected to wake up a hero in the eyes of everyone. Especially Steve Harrington. The guy he hurt without remorse. The guy who saw right through everything he did. Billy wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy. That should be so obvious. Yet here he was, in a room surrounded by bouquets from strangers with cards reading get well soon and Steve fucking Harrington fighting back tears because Billy was awake.

Apparently Steve had been there every day. Max made him promise to take care of him, which he very reluctantly agreed to. He was doing it for Max. At least that was the original intention.

Steve started to find his own sense of purpose by seeing Billy every day. Watching as his body slowly healed itself. Steve’s life had hit such a roadblock. Working a dead end job with no outlook on his future. Seeing Billy get better gave him something to look forward to. There was a light at the end of this tunnel. And he wasn’t going to miss it.

Steve wasn’t prepared for what he was getting himself into. Wasn’t prepared to understand the full extent of Billy’s injuries and how previous injuries caused complications. He wasn’t prepared to learn who had inflicted those injuries. He wasn’t prepared to see cigarette burns constellating his upper thighs. He wasn’t prepared to wonder whether they were self inflicted or not.

Over the weeks he just kept learning and learning and sympathizing. So quickly he realized he needed to be there when Billy woke up. Needed to be there to hold his hand when his two month long dream finally came to an end. Needed to bring him back to reality when flashes of the mind flayer and his father flicked in his head.

And nothing made sense after that. Somehow high school rivals turned into friends and then turned into more. Somehow Billy found himself waking up next to Steve in his queen sized bed and not in his double on Cherry lane.

Well, actually. One thing made perfect sense to Billy.

Because when he went to bed with a migraine, he woke up with one as well. Sleep no longer serving as a reset button. Each morning waking up to the disappointment that the pounding in his head remained. That the light was too bright. That Steve breathed too loud. That Steve’s cologne smelled too strong. It made sense. It made sense because this was why he got to live. This was his punishment. Because Billy didn’t get nice things without some cost.

And it sometimes made Billy resent Steve. Resent him for carrying him out of the mall, rather than leaving him to die. Resent him for making Billy fall in love with him. Resent him for giving him something to lose.

But then Steve would be there, holding his hair as he threw up in the bathroom. He’d be there with a cool washcloth to lay on his forehead. He’d be there to hold him tight to distract him enough from the pain so he’d fall asleep.

But with time they only became more frequent. So much as say the word migraine within a fifty foot radius and it was on.

And when Billy had a migraine. They didn’t have sex.

Steve felt like he’d be using Billy. Because he wouldn’t be into it. The pain so strong that all pleasure washed away. And Steve couldn’t continue with Billy in that state. Letting himself hurt so Steve could feel good.

But it’s been a full week now and it was only getting worse.

And dammit Billy needed to release some of that tension.

So there the two are in a pitch black room. Billy lying on his back with the cloth over his eyes. The only sound is Billy’s patterned breathing. Steve’s hand on his chest as it rises and falls. Trailing down to feel Billy hard in his jeans, whimpering at the touch of Steve’s hand over two layers of fabric.

“I have an idea.” Steve whispers. “Just lay there and relax. I just want to try something.” Steve kisses his forehead gently, like he’s kissing a wound better. If only it could have been that simple.

Steve slowly unbuttons his jeans, struggling slightly due to the lack of an ability to see. This would definitely be more hands on than usual. He maps Billy’s body with his hands, up and down, tracing his fingers along every divet, every curve of muscle. Creating a vivid visual in his mind as he eases Billy jeans and briefs to his knees.

Steve lets his fingers trace around his groin, releasing another whimper out of Billy, and Steve can’t tell if it’s from the pain of his headache or his desperate need to be touched.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Steve whispers just loud enough for Billy to hear. His face mere inches away from Billy’s cock. Close enough that Billy can feel Steve’s breath hot against his dick.

“Please. Don’t stop.” The pain and desperation clear in his voice.

So Steve goes down, taking the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue and relishing the taste of pre. Steve can’t see as Billy hands move from his head to the sheets, gripping and pulling at them as his breathing quickens from just the warm touch of Steve’s tongue. His head still throbbing in his ears, a weird feeling deep in stomach that he’s unsure if it’s nausea or not. The warm mouth around his cock serving as a pleasant distraction, but not a perfect one.

He wishes he could see Steve. But it’s dark underneath the cloth and he’s not sure he’d even be able to open his eyes anyway. So he listens intently to Steve’s gasps for air, imprints every sensation he’s feeling that Steve is providing to memory. His toes curl. His fists get tighter. Bites down hard on his lower lip as he groans. A groan that is definitely a cause of pleasure and not pain.

Steve takes Billy in deeper. Slowly bobbing up and down to match the rhythm of Billy’s breathing. Treating his own arousal with the sounds of Billy’s quiet whimpers. Rocking his hips against a pillow as he tries to focus all his attention on making Billy feel good. Making him release the strain.

“Close.” Billy says. It’s barely there and Steve surely wouldn’t have heard it had the room not been so quiet and void of any noise but the sounds of breathing and slow and steady movements on the bed.

Billy’s hips buck upward just before releasing his load directly down Steve’s throat. His orgasm accompanied with a loud moan and a release of a deep breath.

Steve continues to rock his hips against the pillow until he’s finishing into his pants at just the noises coming out of Billy. Noises that are unmistakably from pleasure.

Once he’s come down and reached his senses, Steve climbs his way up the bed until he finds Billy’s face, gently cupping the side of his cheek before planting a kiss to his lips.

“How do you feel?”

The answer. Good. Billy feels good.

The migraine is gone.

As if whatever was infecting his brain was released by the spurt of come shot into Steve’s mouth. Pleasure sensors in his brain activating all at once to override it.

“It’s gone.” Is all he can say. Stunned with the quick turn around. A full week of pain and all it took was Steve’s mouth and it was gone. It felt like he was freed from prison. He takes in the scent of Steve’s cologne with a deep intake of air. The fragrance mixing with Steve’s sweat and sex smell feeling so good in his nose. No burning. Just bliss.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. It’s definitely gone.”

Looks like there was a cure after all.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mandi writes tresh #lemons #tw: vomiting #tw: implied child abuse

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