Summary: Seven members all living together under one roof means everything is multiplied; there are seven schedules to manage, seven people to split chores and cook meals, seven times the chaos, and seven sets of helping hands.
Unfortunately, it also means seven chances to catch the same cold that turns one sick day into an entire sick week.
A/N: This fic is commission #2/3 for my very wonderful, very lovely, very patient friend. (next one coming soon?!?)
This time is no different. Jungkook spends one full weekend doing photoshoots and attending a movie premiere and having back-to-back dinners with his friends. He comes home late in the morning on Sunday and he’s exhausted– from socializing, from working, from not sleeping in his own bed for two nights in a row.
Seokjin clocks it right away, within thirty minutes of him stepping through the front door.
“You didn’t sleep,” he says, a statement rather than a question, cupping Jungkook’s cheek with a frown when he shuffles into the kitchen for a snack. “You’re gonna get sick, if you’re not already.”
“I’m not already sick,” Jungkook mumbles around a yawn. “Just tired.”
“I’ll make you something warm.”
Jungkook sniffs. “I was gonna make myself some ramen…”
“I’ll make you ramen, then. Go change into something comfy.”
Something comfy, to Seokjin, means pajamas.
To Jungkook, it’s his biggest sweatshirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants.
Seokjin eyes Jungkook’s bottom drawer of his dresser, full of unworn pajama sets, with a pout as he sets a bowl of ramen down on the nightstand.
“Take it easy today, Jungkookie. You’ve worked hard this weekend. Call hyung if you need anything, okay?”
“Thank you, Hyung.”
With a fond smile, Seokjin kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and leaves him to rest.
Monday
After sleeping for a good chunk of the day on Sunday, Jungkook goes to bed at 8:30 p.m. with a sore throat, sleeps all the way until 9:17 a.m. the next morning, and wakes up with a full-blown cold.
He drags himself to the bathroom, standing in front of the sink in a daze for a few minutes before he works up the will to rummage around in the medicine cabinet for a box of DayQuil. It takes him entirely too long– another couple of minutes, maybe– to punch the two pills out from their blister pack and swallow them down with a mouthful of water from the sink. His hands are shaky and he feels too slow, too sleepy.
“Hey,” Seokjin says from outside of the half-open door while Jungkook uses the bathroom and washes his hands. “You up for the day? Or going back to sleep?”
It takes a moment for Jungkook to reply. He dries his hands in a hurry and then scrambles for the tissue box on the counter, sniffling against a suddenly runny nose.
“Think I slept too long,” he finally croaks out from behind his tissue. “I feel gross.”
Seokjin eyes the box of medicine on the counter. “You probably need more sleep,” he counters. “You are sick, then?”
Jungkook nods sadly and pulls out another handful of tissues.
“Just take the whole box if you need it,” Seokjin snorts. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit.”
By the time Seokjin appears in Jungkook’s bedroom doorway with a plate of toast and a mug of tea, Jungkook is asleep again, flat on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow.
“He’s going to get us all sick,” Seokjin mutters to himself, leaving the food and retreating with a sigh and a plan to go shopping at the pharmacy later.
Seokjin stops in front of the dry-erase calendar hanging in the kitchen next. He’s the self-designated keeper of their schedules and he likes to keep track of everything in one place. Luckily, this week isn’t the busiest they’ve ever had, but with Jungkook sick today he’ll have to cancel a meeting that’s scheduled for the afternoon.
Erasing the meeting from the calendar, Seokjin also notices that Jungkook has added his little gym magnets to every day this week. He gathers them up and returns them to their allotted whiteboard-parking-spot along with the others. Then, he grabs the blue marker– blue for chores– and adds grocery shopping to today.
“Huh?” Taehyung’s voice is whiney as he appears out of nowhere and presses himself against Seokjin’s back. “I don’t wanna go grocery shopping today, I just went!”
“I’ll do this trip,” Seokjin chuckles, capping the dry-erase marker and returning it to its basket. “Jungkook has a cold so I need to pick up a few things.”
“Jungkookie has a cold?” Jimin gasps, never far from Taehyung’s side. He shuffles up behind Seokjin and surveys the calendar. “I should go check on him and see if he needs anything.”
Seokjin hooks an arm around Jimin’s waist before he can get far. “He’s resting. You can come with me to the store.”
Taehyung starts backing away. “Well, I better get started on those emails…”
He’s gone before Seokjin can turn around.
Jimin, however, looks more than eager to join Seokjin on a shopping trip. “Did you already make a list, Hyung?”
Seokjin pulls out his phone and shows Jimin his running notes, currently at eleven items and counting. “I always have a list, Jiminie.”
*
“I brought you another blanket,” Jimin whispers from the doorway, trying to determine if Jungkook is awake.
It’s late afternoon, and though the sun is bright outside, Jungkook’s room is cloaked in darkness, courtesy of his blackout curtains.
Jungkook coughs a few times and shifts restlessly in his bed. “Min?”
Jimin is across the room in a second, spreading the blanket out over Jungkook. He tucks it around his shoulders, then untucks it so he can climb into bed next to him.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, smoothing his palm across Jungkook’s forehead.
Though he’s clearly feeling miserable, Jungkook doesn’t complain. He just turns onto his side and presses his face into Jimin’s shoulder, coughing softly into his shirt.
The door creaks the rest of the way open, and Seokjin appears holding another blanket. “Oh,” he murmurs in surprise when he sees Jimin and Jungkook already cuddling in the bed. “Does Jungkookie need a blanket?”
Jimin shakes his head and answers for Jungkook. “No, I just brought him one.”
Seokjin carries the blanket over anyway, folding it up and draping it over the back of Jungkook’s desk chair. Then, he cleans up the small mess of used tissues and empty water bottles and prepares Jungkook’s next dose of medicine.
“I can make sure he takes that,” Jimin offers. “What time?”
Jimin has been Seokjin’s shadow all day, helping him care for Jungkook and only leaving his side to cuddle with the sick maknae. It makes Seokjin smile to see how attentive Jimin has been to Jungkook’s needs. As he watches, Jimin tugs the blanket higher over Jungkook’s shoulders and leans over to kiss his temple; Jungkook, having already drifted back to sleep, doesn’t even stir.
“He can take it any time now,” Seokjin finally replies after checking the time. “Whenever he wakes up next.”
“Got it, Hyung!” Jimin whispers.
Seokjin finishes cleaning up. He retrieves two new bottles of water to set on the nightstand for both Jimin and Jungkook, then presses kisses to the tops of their heads before leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.
*
In the evening, Seokjin makes a full family dinner and starts laying it out on the table in front of a half-family of only three.
“Where are they all?” he mutters to himself, already starting down the hall.
He finds Jimin and Taehyung both in bed with Jungkook, curled around either side of him. Both of them are sleeping, but Jungkook is awake. He sneezes once– uncovered, unbothered– and then gives a soupy sniffle as he looks over at Seokjin.
It takes him clearing his throat three times before he can speak. “Hi.”
“Hi. How are you feeling?” Seokjin asks, hands on his hips. “Did you run out of tissues?”
Jungkook sneezes again and shrugs one shoulder.
Seokjin spots the box of tissues on the floor. It’s one of eight new boxes that he and Jimin picked up at the store earlier in the day. Still completely full.
As Seokjin sighs and bends to pick it up, Jimin shifts, his face moving closer to Jungkook’s until he’s only centimeters away from the germ zone.
Before Seokjin can act, two things happen at once: Jungkook inhales sharply, gearing up for another sneeze, and Jimin’s hand flies up, somehow already armed with a tissue that he cups over Jungkook’s mouth and nose just in time.
“Bless’ya, Kookie,” Jimin murmurs, still appearing to be half-asleep.
Jungkook sniffles and nuzzles into the tissue. “Thanks.”
“This isn’t going to end well for any of us,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.
There’s nothing that can be done about it now, though. Seokjin has already rescheduled tomorrow’s recording session for Jungkook; he might as well do the same for Jimin and Taehyung.
In his sleep, Taehyung coughs once, then rolls over onto his back, and Seokjin finds himself sighing yet again.
“I’ll bring you three dinner in a moment. You can eat in here.”
“M’kay, Hyung,” Jungkook croaks. “Thanks.”
*
Neither Jimin nor Taehyung are willing to leave Jungkook’s bed after they eat. Jungkook seems content to have the company, so Seokjin doesn’t push it too hard, though he does remind them that they’re setting themselves up for quite a few sick days.
“M’not gonna get sick, Hyung,” Taehyung grumbles in response, uncharacteristically prickly. His voice is already walking the line of hoarseness.
Seokjin is sure to leave extra water for the three of them while he waits for the kettle to heat up in the kitchen.
“At least try to take care of your voices,” he urges, turning on Jungkook’s humidifier. “I’ll bring you tea in a minute. Any other requests?”
Taehyung shakes his head with a frown, Jimin blinks sleepily up at him and doesn’t seem to realize he’s being asked a question, and Jungkook requests a long list of snacks and items that has Seokjin regretting asking.
“No problem, Kookie,” he says anyway, plastering a smile on his face. “You just stay here and rest. Be right back.”
Tuesday
Sure enough, both Jimin and Taehyung wake up on Tuesday morning with sore throats.
Somehow, a cold is never a simple thing in their house– and certainly not when three of them have colds all at the same time.
“My poor sick babies,” Seokjin tuts as he doles out doses of medicine to Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook.
“You’re all sick?” Namjoon asks from the doorway, getting the update in real time. “Wasn’t it just Kook yesterday?”
“They’re sharing,” Seokjin sighs.
Namjoon takes a step back. “How generous.”
Seokjin does a quick hand-gauged temperature check on the three sick maknaes’ foreheads, then starts gathering used tissues and cough drop wrappers and empty water bottles into a trash can.
“Yoongi is making breakfast. Do you three want to eat in bed or come out to the living room?”
Jungkook, silent until now, presses his face against the side of Taehyung’s neck with a soft groan. “Don’t wanna eat,” he whines, voice thick with congestion.
“That’s not a good sign,” Namjoon mutters from the doorway.
Jimin gently pats Jungkook on the chest, making eye contact with Taehyung for a moment before he turns to Seokjin.
“We’ll eat in the living room.”
Namjoon goes ahead of them to prepare the living room, gathering up blankets and moving tissue boxes before he turns on the TV.
They settle on the couch, with Jungkook in the middle, tucking themselves under blankets. Yoongi brings three bowls of egg juk and three glasses of orange juice on a tray.
“Thank you, Hyung,” Taehyung says, sipping on his orange juice.
“Thank you, Hyung,” Jimin echoes, cradling his bowl to his chest.
Jungkook scrunches up his nose, still not feeling hungry. “Thank you, Hyung,” he pouts, trying to remain polite. “Wish I could smell it.”
“It smells really good,” Taehyung confirms, grinning up at Yoongi.
Hoseok appears a moment later carrying three steaming mugs. “Honey only for Tae,” he says, setting the first one down on the coffee table. “Lemon only for Jiminie. And, honey with lemon for Kookie.”
“Thank you, Hyung,” Taehyung says hoarsely. “You’re the best.”
“Thank you, Hyung,” Jimin echoes.
Jungkook frowns at the mug– he hates tea– but picks it up regardless. “Thank you, Hyung.”
“Enjoy your breakfast,” Hoseok grins. “Let hyungs know if you need anything.”
After receiving three nods of confirmation, the four eldest move to the kitchen table to eat.
“Looks like I’m taking a few more sick days,” Seokjin comments, eyeing the calendar. He’ll need to erase a few things, reschedule a few more things.
“I can’t believe all three babies are sick at the same time,” Hoseok says, glancing toward the living room.
“I can,” Yoongi snorts. “It’s only a matter of time before–”
“Don’t say it,” Namjoon stops him.
They all know it’s true, though; it’s not a matter of if, but when, the rest of them will come down with the same cold that’s currently plaguing their three youngest.
Wednesday
Wednesday morning brings rain, and an atmosphere inside the house that’s nearly as gloomy as the weather.
Seokjin wakes to the distant sound of coughing. And sneezing. Lots of it, from multiple people. A whole house full of sick people. For a moment, he doesn’t want to get out of bed, but after a few more minutes he forces himself to get up, sluggishly shoving his covers aside.
He catches Hoseok coming out of the shower, coughing into his fist as his wet hair drips onto his shoulders.
“That was you coughing?” Seokjin asks, his stomach sinking.
“Huh?” Hoseok frowns. “No, I was just clearing my throat.”
Seokjin fixes him with a look, but Hoseok dodges him and calls over his shoulder, “Dance practice is in thirty minutes, Hyung! Better hurry and get dressed.”
Dance practice. Seokjin makes a U-turn and heads to the kitchen so he can check the calendar. Sure enough, there’s a dance practice scheduled for today, but he’s been all mixed up with all of the cancellations on their calendar and forgot about it.
By the time Seokjin gets ready for practice, it’s just about time to leave. Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon are already waiting by the front door, but Seokjin takes one more minute to stop by Jungkook’s room. The three maknaes are still asleep in Jungkook’s bed, same as they had been before Seokjin got dressed, but he can’t help needing to see with his own eyes that they’re resting peacefully and not in immediate need of anything.
“How are they doing?” Yoongi asks him when he finally makes it back out to put his shoes on.
“Resting. They’re on the mend, hopefully. I’m sure by the time we’re back from practice, the three of them will be up and messing around with their usual energy.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Hoseok agrees, squeezing Seokjin’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go dance your worries away!”
Curled up on the couch in front of him, Taehyung sniffles pitifully. “But I feel really cold.”
Pressing the back of his hand to Taehyung’s forehead, Seokjin calls over his shoulder, “Yoon?”
Yoongi appears just moments later, coming to stand behind Seokjin with a questioning hum.
“Does Tae feel hot to you?” Seokjin guides Yoongi’s hand to Taehyung’s forehead, eyes wide with renewed worry.
Yoongi feels Taehyung’s flushed face, sliding his hand first to his cheek and then to the back of his neck.
“He still has what Jungkook and Jimin have,” Yoongi replies calmly. “Just a cold. And he might have a low-grade fever. Nothing to worry about.”
“I’ll get the thermometer,” Seokjin says anyway, hurrying off to the bathroom. “What if it’s the flu?”
“Is it bad?” Taehyung asks quietly, looking up at Yoongi with watery eyes.
Yoongi chuckles. “No, baby. Don’t let Seokjin-hyung worry you. You always get a bit of fever when you’re sick, hmm?”
Taehyung nods, though he still looks a bit unsure.
When Seokjin returns with a thermometer, Hoseok is with him, concerned eyes zeroing in on Taehyung’s shivering form.
“How are you feeling, TaeTae?” Hoseok asks, dropping down onto the couch next to him while Seokjin crouches back in front of Taehyung.
“I feel gross.” Taehyung clears his throat and swipes at the sweat on his forehead. “Need a shower…w-wait, I need a tissue first.” He curls forward, eyes squeezing shut, and lets out a thunderous sneeze into his hoodie sleeve.
Hoseok grabs the box of tissues from the coffee table for him. “Bless you! Let hyung take your temperature real quick and then you can take a nice warm shower.”
Seokjin waits for Taehyung to blow his nose and then slides the thermometer under his tongue.
“Joon is at the art exhibition,” Hoseok murmurs to Yoongi as they watch Seokjin fret. “He’s stopping back by the company afterward to update them on our sickies. We’ll have to do tomorrow’s dance practice without them too.”
“I figured as much,” Yoongi sighs. “We’re lucky those three already have the choreo down so well.”
“Let’s take it one more time, just to be sure,” Seokjin says, squinting at the thermometer reading.
“It’s not even 38°C, Hyung,” Yoongi interrupts before he can put the thermometer back into Taehyung’s mouth. “Looks like he’ll be fine with a little Ibuprofen.”
Seokjin looks at Yoongi, then at Hoseok, and then back at Taehyung. “Okay. Right. Fine.”
Yoongi pulls Seokjin up off the floor, his hands gentle on his back. “I made lunch,” he says, softly, as if he’s trying not to startle his hyung. “Go get a drink of water and sit down at the table.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, and Yoongi just waits patiently, his expression neutral and his hand moving to Seokjin’s elbow. Then, Seokjin nods, and he lets Yoongi guide him away from the couch, both of them pretending like they can’t hear Hoseok coughing as they leave the room.
*
Taehyung makes it halfway through his shower before Seokjin finds himself outside the bathroom door, hand raised to knock.
“Come in,” Taehyung croaks out, barely audible over the sound of running water, but Seokjin is already turning the knob anyway.
“Doing okay in there?” Seokjin asks. “You’re not dizzy or anything, right?”
A weak cough sputters out from behind the shower curtain, and then Taehyung pushes it aside a few inches. “Nope. Doing great!”
Seokjin opens his mouth to reply, but Taehyung is already stepping back under the spray.
“I can wash your hair if you want,” he offers after a minute, inching closer to the shower.
“Hyung,” Taehyung sniffles from behind the curtain, “I like it when you help me. But I just want to take a quick shower. Don’t need help for that.”
“...Okay. If you’re sure.” Seokjin takes a step back, then another. Taehyung just sniffles again, and Seokjin can hear him squeezing shampoo out of what sounds like a nearly empty bottle. “I’ll, um…I’ll go, then.”
Seokjin’s shoulders sag as he turns around. He knows that Taehyung is right, and that he’ll be completely fine showering on his own– he’s worrying way too much about a low-grade fever. It’s silly, but Seokjin still can’t quite shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach, even–
“Hyung?” Taehyung calls out hoarsely just as Seokjin is about to open the door to leave.
Seokjin whips around so fast he almost turns a full circle, wobbling in place for a second before he rights himself and steps towards the shower.
Taehyung is peeking back out past the shower curtain, looking half like he’s about to sneeze and half like he’s about to laugh. “Wanna come in?” he offers softly, extending a wet hand. “I guess I do need some help rinsing my hair.”
*
Later in the evening, after a hearty home-cooked meal and a round of cold medicine, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin get tucked into bed together once more. Seokjin takes their temperatures as everyone converges in Jungkook’s bedroom; Namjoon bringing two new boxes of tissues, and Yoongi cleaning up used tissues and gathering empty cups.
Hoseok comes in carrying an armful of blankets, warmed up in the dryer. He doesn’t look well as he drapes them over the bed– a little pale, a little sniffly– but no one seems to notice how unnervingly quiet and subdued he is.
No one except for Seokjin, that is.
“Looks like you brought one too many blankets,” Seokjin says softly, draping one over Hoseok’s shoulders. “Good thinking, warming them up first. The babies will be so much warmer now.”
Hoseok melts beneath the warmth of the blanket, his eyelashes fluttering closed for a long moment before he blinks around the room.
“Hyung?” Jimin’s small, raspy voice draws Seokjin to his side in an instant.
“What do you need, Jiminie?”
Jimin cups his sleeve-covered hand over his face and sneezes twice in a row before answering. “Tissues?”
Seokjin bites back a smile and grabs the tissue box that’s just an arm’s reach away on the nightstand. Jimin has been so quiet the past couple of days, but he’s never hesitated to ask for help. Seokjin can tell he’s fighting to stay awake as he dabs at his reddened nose with a tissue.
“What else?” He urges gently.
“Thirsty,” Jimin whispers. “And Kookie needs water too, please.”
“On it,” Yoongi says, leaving to fetch more water.
By the time Yoongi returns with water, Seokjin has herded Hoseok and Namjoon toward their own rooms to get some sleep, and both Jimin and Taehyung are sleeping. Yoongi sets water bottles on the nightstand and uncaps one for Jungkook.
“Thank you, hyungs,” Jungkook smiles.
He’s looking sleepy now, but restless between Jimin and Taehyung in the bed. Yoongi waits for him to drink and then takes the water back, setting it on the nightstand next to the others. He then hands Jungkook a tissue so he can blow his nose.
“Try to get some sleep,” Seokjin says, tugging the warmed blankets up once Jungkook settles on his back.
Jungkook nods, eyelids drooping. Taehyung coughs in his sleep and Jimin is snoring softly, curled up small against Jungkook’s side. Seokjin stands there watching them fondly until Yoongi takes his elbow and tugs him out of the room.
“You’re hovering,” Yoongi whispers, almost laughing. “Let them sleep.”
Seokjin closes the door and wraps his arm around Yoongi’s waist. “Hoseokie wasn’t looking too good earlier. I should go check on him.”
Yoongi guides Seokjin to his room, shaking his head. “I’ll check on him. You can start washing up. I’ll check on Joon too, before you get any thoughts in your head about doing anything other than getting ready for bed right now.”
Yawning, Seokjin stretches his arms above his head. “Okay, fine. But only because I’m tired. They really wore me out today.”
“Wore yourself out,” Yoongi mutters under his breath in response. “Rest well, Hyung.”
“You too, Yoon. Good night.”
Thursday
Early on Thursday morning, Seokjin appears in the doorway of Jungkook’s room, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes.
The bed is a mess of tangled limbs and rumpled sheets and used tissues. Seokjin is pleased to see that Jungkook is already awake, sitting up against the headboard right in the middle of the bed between Jimin and Taehyung, and looking much better than he had the day before.
“How are you feeling?” Seokjin asks softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching up to feel Taehyung’s forehead with the back of his hand. He’s happy to feel only sleep-warmth and not the heat of fever he’d felt there yesterday.
“Pretty good,” Jungkook replies, looking up from his phone. He still sounds a little congested, but his face is back to a normal, healthy flush.
Seokjin smiles. “That’s great–”
Taehyung coughs himself awake then, whining hoarsely as he curls up under the blanket. The movement jostles the whole bed and Jimin stirs with a liquidy sniffle.
“Huh?”
Jungkook drops his phone into his lap. His hands move to Jimin’s and Taehyung’s shoulders like he’s trying to soothe them back to sleep, but Seokjin thinks this is a perfect opportunity for a transition.
“Jungkook, why don’t you go take a shower?” he suggests, standing so he can hand Taehyung a bottle of water from the nightstand. He grabs the box of tissues and goes around to the other side of the bed, where Jimin is snuffling into his sleeve. “I’ll get your bedding changed. You can rest on the couch when you’re done, okay?”
“I wanted to go to the gym,” Jungkook replies over the sound of Jimin blowing his nose.
“Funny,” Seokjin deadpans. “You can go to the gym in a few days when you’re fully recovered.”
Jungkook frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks so adorably petulant that Seokjin almost reconsiders.
“Go take a shower,” Seokjin chuckles. “Tae, Jimin, come with me.” He pulls back the blankets. “We’re doing a transfer.”
Taehyung and Jimin are sleepy but compliant. They crawl out of bed, shuffling after Seokjin as he leads them across the hall to Hoseok’s room. Jungkook is right behind them, brows furrowed in confusion until Seokjin opens the door and Hoseok greets them with a pitiful cough-sneeze combo.
“Hoseokie is sick now too,” Seokjin announces, as if they can’t hear that for themselves.
“Oh no, Hyung,” Jimin murmurs, already climbing into the bed. He wraps his arms around Hoseok’s waist. “Sorry we got you sick.”
Hoseok waves a hand dismissively. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks. After clearing his throat, he gets out a “don’t apologize” that’s immediately followed by a loud cough.
“So sorry,” Jimin whispers, resting his head on Hoseok’s chest.
Seokjin presses the back of his hand to Taehyung’s forehead again, lingering for just a moment before nudging him forward. “Go get some sleep with Hoseokie,” he instructs, then turns to Jungkook. “Shower time, Kook.”
As soon as Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung are cuddled up together in bed, and Jungkook is in the bathroom, Seokjin sighs and heads back to his own bedroom. He flops down face-first onto his bed and closes his eyes, only then registering the slight headache that’s forming behind his eyes.
“Great,” he groans out loud. It’s probably because he hasn’t had any water yet this morning. And coffee– he’s definitely going to need several cups of coffee. And maybe some breakfast.
Deciding he’ll wait until he hears Jungkook get out of the shower before he gets up, Seokjin keeps his eyes closed and starts running through a mental list of everything they currently have in the fridge, and wonders what he should make for breakfast.
*
Seokjin doesn’t mean to take a nap, but he ends up falling asleep and wakes two hours later feeling like his tongue is too big for his mouth. There’s drool on his chin and he clumsily wipes it away in disgust, stumbling towards the bathroom so he can brush his teeth and wash his face immediately.
It takes him far too long to feel like he’s fully awake. Even after he splashes cold water on his face, there’s still a heaviness in his body when he moves that makes him want to crawl right back into his bed, and the only thing that stops him from doing just that is his desperate need for a drink of water.
There’s a half-empty bottle of water on his nightstand. He doesn’t even care that it’s room temperature and at least a day old as he chugs the rest of it down greedily. It quenches his thirst just enough that he can focus on the task he’d promised to do next– wash Jungkook’s bedding.
Seokjin’s heart sinks when he steps into Jungkook’s room and sees that his bedding has already been stripped off, and only then does the sound of the washing machine running just down the hall register. He nearly curses under his breath, but bites his tongue and drags a hand down his face instead.
“Did you have a good nap, Hyung?”
Seokjin yelps and turns around to see Jungkook standing in the doorway.
“I didn’t nap!” He blurts out, even though he very obviously did.
Jungkook scrunches up his face. “...Okay, Hyung. Do you want to come to the gym with me?”
Seokjin’s brain doesn’t quite process Jungkook’s words fast enough, so he starts nodding before he realizes what he’s doing. “Wait– what? No, absolutely not–”
“You can’t stop me from working out,” Jungkook says, with far too much amusement in his tone for Seokjin’s liking. “I’m not even sick anymore.”
Seokjin’s hands fly to his hips. “Jungkook, you still sound sick. You should be resting, not working out.”
“I don’t need my voice to lift weights,” Jungkook giggles, infuriatingly nonchalant. “I feel good, I’m only a tiny bit congested still– but I’ll wear a mask. And I’ll make it to practice in time, promise.”
Closing his eyes, Seokjin takes a deep breath through his nose, then exhales slowly. He opens his eyes to look at Jungkook, who’s pulling on a hoodie. He’s already dressed in his gym clothes and Seokjin feels his sense of control rush out of him, like he’s trying to catch something that’s slipping right past his fingers.
No, he thinks, but he can’t get his mouth to say it. No, you can’t–
Then, Jungkook is standing right in front of him. “You doing okay, Jin-hyung?” he asks quietly, one hand coming up to hover somewhere near Seokjin’s shoulder.
Instead, Seokjin ducks away and stalks towards the door. “I’m fine, Kook,” he lies, not looking back. “Be safe at the gym. Please–” He swallows thickly, suddenly extremely thirsty again. “Please don’t overdo it, okay?”
He leaves before he can hear Jungkook’s response, and before he spirals further out of control.
*
“Thank you, Hyung.” Hoseok has the blanket pulled up to his chin. His face is pale, sleep-warm beneath Seokjin’s palm. But not fever-warm– Seokjin has checked twice already in the past ten minutes.
“Of course, Hoseokie. Anything you need, you just call Hyung, okay?”
Hoseok nods and closes his eyes, already close to falling back to sleep. Seokjin sits on the edge of the bed for just a moment longer, watching over him as his breathing evens out. On Hoseok’s other side, Jimin and Taehyung are sleeping face to face, their congested breaths mixing together.
Slowly, Seokjin stands and backs out of Hoseok’s room, pulling the door shut softly. He’s feeling tired again after a long day of caring for his sick dongsaengs and a gruelling dance practice– and, annoyingly, very thirsty again.
Before he gets a drink of water from the kitchen sink, Seokjin stops in front of the calendar. Today, there had only been dance practice, which Hosoek, Jimin and Taehyung had skipped out on. Tomorrow– Friday– there’s only a meeting on the calendar for Namjoon and Yoongi, plus a recording session for Jungkook that Seokjin is almost certain he’ll have to postpone until his voice is back in shape.
And then, it will be the weekend. Seokjin has never looked forward to a weekend more. He sees a couple of social events on Saturday that he briefly considers erasing, but decides to leave just in case. He reaches out to touch the eraser anyway, his fingers hovering for a moment.
Behind him, whoever is sitting in the dining room sniffles loudly– loud enough to remind Seokjin that he had been on a mission to get water. He drops his hand just as there’s another sniffle.
It sounds like Namjoon.
Sure enough, he turns around just in time to see Namjoon swipe at his nose with his sleeve, sniffling yet again.
Suspicious.
Seokjin sighs and makes his way to the kitchen, deciding he’ll make some tea for both himself and Namjoon. He fills the electric kettle with water and finds two mugs and the tea, leaning on the counter and staring absently at the backsplash until the kettle starts to whistle.
When he brings everything out to the table, Namjoon is writing in his notebook. Seokjin sets a mug of tea down in front of him and sits down in the chair across from him. Up close, he can clearly see that Namjoon is exhausted, dark circles under his eyes that stand out against his too-pale face.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Seokjin asks, instantly regretting it when he sees the offended look that crosses Namjoon’s face. “Sorry, maybe it’s just me. Felt like I was waking up every two hours.”
Namjoon deflates a little, leaning back in his chair with a small sniffle. “Yeah, guess I didn’t sleep very much either.”
That’s all Namjoon gives him verbally, though. Seokjin stares down at his mug of tea. Namjoon’s a little more sensitive than the others when it comes to illnesses. While Seokjin understands all too well the pressure Namjoon feels to appear strong in front of the other members, he still wishes their leader wouldn’t be so stubborn about getting sick.
He clears his throat, keeping his eyes down as he asks, “You feeling okay?”
“Yep.”
Seokjin nearly smiles. He glances over to see Namjoon watching him with narrowed eyes.
“And what about you?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “Jungkook texted me earlier and said you were acting weird, whatever he means by that.”
“I was just being a little overprotective, that’s all,” Seokjin scoffs. “I still don’t think he should have gone to the gym when he’s recovering. I don’t like how pale he was looking at dance practice, either.”
Namjoon, having successfully deflected from his own health, looks almost smug as he responds, “We were all looking pale by the end of that choreo run Sungdeuk-hyung put us through. Imagine how it’ll go when Hoseok is feeling better.”
Seokjin shudders and takes a sip of his tea. “Yeah. Just imagine.”
Friday
On Friday, Seokjin has to finally admit that Jungkook isn’t really sick anymore. Even Jimin and Taehyung are clearly on the mend, feeling much better, their symptoms nearly gone.
Namjoon, on the other hand, can’t say the same.
“Just because you’re saying you’re fine doesn’t make it true,” Yoongi says dryly as he watches Namjoon struggle through making himself breakfast while trying to stifle a cough. “Go to bed, Joon.”
“Better yet,” Seokjin adds, “Go to Hoseok’s room. Jimin has already vacated so there’s a spot for you.”
“Don’t need to go to the sick room,” Namjoon mutters under his breath, sniffing sharply. “I need to get ready for my meeting.”
“We’re sending Jimin and Jungkook in your place, actually,” Seokjin informs him, bracing himself for their leader’s response. “You can’t deny that they’ll have wonderful ideas for the marketing team, and you’ll be able to add your input next week when you’re no longer dripping from your nose.”
Namjoon flushes pink and takes the tissue that Seokjin hands him without a word.
Ten minutes later, after Namjoon has struggled stubbornly through a bowl of cereal and accumulated a pile of used tissues, Yoongi and Seokjin are able to convince him to rest with Hoseok and Taehyung.
Reluctantly, Namjoon joins Hoseok in his bed, grumbling under his breath but rapidly losing steam. Taehyung is in the shower, and when he gets out he heads to his own bedroom instead, claiming that his hyungs will sleep better with more room in the bed.
“I’ll still rest today, Hyung. I promise,” he grins before Seokjin can protest. “I just have a few things I need to work on. I won’t even leave my bed.”
“I’ll be keeping you to that,” Seokjin replies, reaching up to feel Taehyung’s forehead. “There will be frequent checks. Now, go drink that water I gave you this morning that you’ve barely even touched yet.”
“How did the three of them recover so quickly?” Yoongi murmurs after Taehyung leaves the room. “If I end up catching this, I’m going to be stuck in bed for a week.”
In response, Hoseok lets out a hacking cough, Namjoon sneezes loudly, and Seokjin sighs.
“They’re young,” Seokjin says.
“You’re only five years older than Jungkook,” Yoongi points out.
“Is that all?” Seokjin muses, dragging a hand down his face. “Feels more like ten, sometimes.”
A loud snore interrupts, and Seokjin and Yoongi look over in surprise to see that Namjoon has already fallen asleep, his mouth open and his hands bunched up into fists in front of his face. Hoseok, yawning, turns to face him, his eyelids drooping.
“Poor thing has been more tired than he was letting on,” Seokjin tuts, pulling the blanket up over Namjoon and Hoseok and tucking it in around their shoulders. “So stubborn.”
“Yeah. Well, you should get some rest too, Hyung,” Yoongi murmurs. “You’re doing a lot to take care of everyone.”
Seokjin hums noncommittally, but he knows Yoongi is right.
They leave Namjoon and Hoseok to sleep. Seokjin peers through the door for a moment before he closes it the rest of the way, a tired yet fond smile crossing his face when Namjoon lets out a loud, stuttering snore.
“Kook and Jimin and I are going to head out now,” Yoongi says. “Text me if you need anything.”
“I need this cold virus to stop attacking my members,” Seokjin chuckles wryly, leaning against the wall to watch Yoongi pack his work bag. His gaze flits to Jimin and Jungkook pulling their shoes on by the front door. “Keep an eye on them for me?”
The corners of Yoongi’s mouth turn up. “Only if you promise to get some rest while we're gone,” he negotiates.
Seokjin waves a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
*
Instead of resting, Seokjin decides to use the time to catch up on laundry.
The chores have fallen a bit behind over the past few days; Seokjin is almost certain that they’ll be doing laundry for a week straight until they’ll be able to catch up. He gets a few loads out of the way, at least, lugging piles of clothes and laundry baskets throughout the various rooms of the house.
He stops by Hoseok’s room after he finally gets the towels sorted and folded. A nap has left Namjoon more congested and no less stubborn than before. He’s sitting up in bed with his laptop in front of him, a tissue clutched against his nose.
“How are you feeling?” Seokjin asks, whispering since Hoseok is still sleeping. “You’re not working, are you?”
“I have a lot to catch up on already,” Namjoon replies, blowing his nose one-handed. “I saw you canceled both of my meetings on Monday.”
His tone clearly implies his dissatisfaction with the schedule change, but Seokjin isn’t too worried about that.
“Oh no, you sound stuffy. I’ll bring you some medicine with lunch.”
Namjoon sniffles, frowning and scrunching up his nose in discomfort at the resulting shift of congestion in his sinuses. He plucks another tissue from the box and swipes at his nose. “I’m not hungry. And I’ll be fine to work on Monday.”
“I admire your optimism,” Seokjin chuckles, checking Namjoon and Hoseok’s water bottles. “Drink some of that water, please.”
Seokjin pretends not to see Namjoon rolling his eyes as he leaves to go check on Taehyung, knowing he’s probably much more miserable than he’s currently letting on.
Taehyung is in his room, sitting in his bed similarly to Namjoon, with his laptop propped up in front of him. He’s watching an anime, but pauses it and smiles up at Seokjin when he comes in.
“How are you feeling?” Seokjin asks, sitting down next to him and cupping the side of his face. “You’re sounding a lot better.”
“Feel a lot better,” Taehyung says. “No more fever. No stuffy nose. I think tomorrow I’ll be–”
“Nope,” Seokjin cuts him off. “Tomorrow, you can rest.”
Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest. “You let Jimin and Jungkook go to work today,” he protests.
“Jimin and Jungkook didn’t have fevers just yesterday,” Seokjin counters. “And that meeting couldn’t really be postponed. Trust me, those two aren’t going anywhere tomorrow, either.”
Whining, Taehyung rolls away from Seokjin. “I’m just going to see my friends, Hyung. They don’t care if I’m sick.”
“Then they shouldn’t mind if you take one more day to recover. Wouldn’t want to get them sick too, would we?” He pats Taehyung’s hip. “Now, I’m going to go get started on lunch. Drink some more water, please.”
*
When Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook return from their meeting, Seokjin herds them all to the table and serves them steaming bowls of samgyetang.
“How was the meeting?”
“Productive!” Jungkook chirps, and Jimin nods in agreement.
“Boring,” Yoongi mutters around a yawn. He pulls his bowl closer and starts eating enthusiastically.
“Thank you for lunch, Hyung,” Jimin says. “It’s really good.”
Seokjin lingers a moment longer, watching the three of them eat with a smile on his face, before he takes lunch to Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung in their rooms.
After everyone is done and Seokjin has cleaned up all of the dishes and the kitchen, he feels tired enough to nap. Instead, he decides to do one more load of laundry for the day. As he passes through the living room, he sees that Yoongi is sleeping on the couch, curled up under a blanket. He stops to feel his forehead, checking his temperature and only moving on when he’s satisfied it’s normal, though he pulls the blanket up a little high over Yoongi’s shoulders first.
Saturday
Yoongi holds out for as long as he can. He eats tangerines by the bagful until he’s undeniably fortified with vitamin C. He hauls around the disinfectant wipes with him everywhere he goes. But after a week of living in the same house as sick people, he is inevitably bound to get sick sooner or later.
He just wishes it would have been later, and not when Hoseok and Namjoon are still sick. Not when Seokjin is likely on the verge of getting sick too, but too focused on taking care of everyone else to even take care of himself.
He wakes up on Saturday morning and can’t even pretend he’s not sick– not that he ever would. He’s not stubborn like Namjoon and Seokjin. But he’s also not looking forward to letting everyone know that he’s finally caught this cold, and instead waits until Jimin walks into the kitchen while he’s getting himself some water to quietly admit that he has a sore throat and a runny nose.
“Oh no,” Jimin gasps, wrapping his arms around Yoongi. “I’m so sorry, Hyung.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Yoongi shrugs.
“What do you need? Medicine? Should I make you some tea?”
The corners of Yoongi’s mouth twitch up. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jin-hyung, huh?”
Jimin huffs, feigning offense.
“He doesn’t know yet, by the way,” Yoongi sighs. “I’ll tell him later, but for now I’m going back to bed.”
“Want me to cuddle with you?” Jimin offers, and Yoongi shakes his head, aiming a cough into the crook of his arm.
“Thanks for the offer, but maybe later.”
Jimin follows him down the hall anyway, stopping by Jungkook’s room to grab a spare box of tissues. He hovers as Yoongi climbs into bed– his fussing eerily similar to Seokjin’s– and only leaves after he’s sure Yoongi is comfortable.
*
In the afternoon, the whole house is quiet.
Yoongi is napping in his own room, and Hoseok and Namjoon are napping in Hoseok’s room.
Seokjin seems to be missing until Jungkook checks his room and sees that he’s asleep in his bed, sprawled out like he flopped down and was too tired to move. Jungkook can hear that his breathing is labored and stuffy, and his chest tightens with concern. It’s all because of him, after all, that everyone in the house ended up getting sick.
“I’m sorry, Hyung,” Jungkook whispers as he tugs a blanket over Seokjin’s sleeping form.
Sun is shining through the windows, bright and cheery, when Jungkook goes back out to the living room to find Jimin and Taehyung.
“Jin-hyung is sleeping,” he tells them. “And I’m pretty sure he’s sick now.”
“Well, I guess it’s up to us now to take care of the hyungs,” Taehyung says. “They took care of us. Really sucks that all of us got this cold, but I guess that’s kinda how it always goes, huh?”
“Sharing is caring?” Jungkook grins sheepishly, holding out his hands until Jimin and Taehyung laugh and roll their eyes.
They spend the rest of the afternoon quietly taking care of their sick hyungs and playing video games, and the day passes with surprising calmness. None of the four sickies are feeling well enough to do much other than nap, and the fact that it's a weekend seems to help with any lingering guilt about missing out on work after a week of so much missed already.
Jimin checks in on Seokjin twice, each time finding him more deeply asleep than before.
The second time, he presses his palm to Seokjin’s forehead the same way Seokjin always does for them, frowning at the slight warmth there. He pulls the blanket a little higher over his shoulders, sets a fresh bottle of water on the nightstand, and tiptoes back out.
“He’s definitely sick,” he reports when he rejoins Taehyung and Jungkook in the living room.
Jungkook frowns, feeling guilty all over again, but Taehyung pats his knee.
“Hey,” he says softly. “No blaming yourself. It’s not like we tried to avoid cuddling with each other. This was basically inevitable.”
Still, Jungkook frowns and buries his face into Taehyung’s shoulder. “I just hate that I really stressed hyung out this week,” he says.
“I think hyung would be stressed if he knew that you’re feeling guilty about that,” Jimin says gently, rubbing Jungkook’s back. “As long as you give him lots of cuddles when he’s suffering, he’ll be just fine.”
A couple of hours later, Jungkook has made a run to the pharmacy for a restock, Taehyung has picked up a few extra neglected chores, and Jimin has offered his cuddling services to all four sick hyungs, and the house falls quiet again by the time the sun starts to set.
*
“What should we make for dinner?” Jimin asks Taehyung and Jungkook. “Any ideas?”
“I think,” Taehyung replies, “that we should order takeout for dinner.”
Jungkook nods. “Not a bad idea.”
Jimin laughs, relieved he doesn’t have to cook. “Takeout it is. I’ll place an order now.”
They decide on a restaurant and order more than enough food for the seven of them. When the food arrives, they plate it up and arrange it on trays with water and tea and orange juice before carrying it to their sick hyungs.
Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi have all taken over Seokjin’s bed, but Seokjin is nowhere to be found. Once they’ve delivered food and make sure their three hyungs have everything they need, they go in search of their eldest hyung.
They find Seokjin in Namjoon’s bed– which makes sense, since his room is a bit crowded.
Seokjin is clearly not feeling well, but they decide not to address it just yet.
“We brought you dinner,” Jimin says, climbing into bed next to Seokjin. “Everyone else has already eaten.”
Seokjin sniffles wetly, taking a moment to respond. He looks like he’s still in the process of waking up after a long sleep, his eyes puffy and his face slack. Jungkook props a pillow between his back and the headboard and Taehyung arranges a variety of drinks on the nightstand within Seokjin’s reach.
“Thank you,” Seokjin finally says, his voice cracking. “You’re sure everyone else has already eaten? What about–?”
“Yes, Hyung,” Jimin interrupts. “Everyone else ate. We just ordered food, so it’s nothing special, but hopefully there’s something here that looks good?” He hands Seokjin a pair of chopsticks and nudges a bowl of rice closer on the tray.
Seokjin picks at the food, sniffling frequently. Taehyung hands him a tissue and Seokjin doesn’t even seem to realize that all three of them are watching him as he wipes his nose with it.
“Do you want some tea, Hyung?” Jimin asks, reaching out to brush Seokjin’s hair back from his forehead. His palm lingers for a moment before sliding down to the side of his face, his thumb brushing back and forth across the apple of Seokjin’s cheek.
In the end, Seokjin only has a few sips of tea and less than half of his food before he declares he’s done, but eating seems to give him a boost of energy.
“I should go check on the others,” he says, surprising them. He grabs the tray and starts gathering everything up, too fast for any of them to help before he’s carrying it out of the room.
“We already checked on everyone,” Jimin calls out after him, but he knows it’s pointless to try and stop him now.
He trails out after Seokjin, with Taehyung and Jungkook right behind him. Seokjin sets the tray on the kitchen counter before going to find Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok in the living room, where they’re watching a movie together.
“How are you all feeling?” He asks them, eyeing the crumpled tissues and half-empty mugs on the coffee table in front of them. “Did you all eat already?”
Namjoon pauses the movie and nods. “Yep. The maknaes took care of ordering dinner tonight, so we’ve already had food.”
While Seokjin interrogates, Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s hand and pulls him to the kitchen.
“We have to clean everything up before Jin-hyung tries to do it,” he whispers. “Let’s hurry.”
In record time, Taehyung and Jungkook clean up the kitchen, box up the leftover food for the fridge, and wipe down the counters until they’re sparkling. They manage to sneak back out to the living room just in time to hear Jimin convince Seokjin to head back to his room to rest, claiming that he and Taehyung and Jungkook are going to do the same.
“Good idea,” Taehyung nods, throwing his arm around Jimin’s shoulder. “We can all turn in early tonight.”
“We’re going to bed as soon as this movie is done,” Yoongi promises, smiling up at Seokjin.
“That’s good,” Seokjin murmurs absently, rubbing at his nose. “Okay, then. Get some rest, everyone.”
All six of them are left shocked when that’s all they get from Seokjin– no more fussing, no protest. He just turns and heads back to his room, moving sluggishly and sniffling the whole way.
“He’s sick, isn’t he?” Hoseok asks once they hear his bedroom door close. “Think he’ll be okay?”
“Of course,” Jimin replies confidently. “He’ll probably just need a little…encouragement to rest once he accepts it tomorrow.”
Namjoon reaches for a tissue and blows his nose. “Want to watch the rest of this movie with us?” he offers, looking at Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook over his tissue.
“Sure,” Jungkook responds, watching as Hoseok grabs a tissue next. “But first, I think we better get a few more boxes of tissues out here.”
Sunday
Seokjin finally succumbs to the unavoidable shared cold just when the weekend is reaching its end.
Truthfully, he’s been fighting off the cold for much longer, but it’s on Sunday afternoon as he’s sitting on the edge of his bed checking his emails on his phone when he feels it all hitting him at once– a sore throat, a runny nose, the sense of dread he feels at having to cancel yet more meetings and practices and events.
“Shit,” he whimpers to himself, allowing himself to curse. Allowing himself to wallow for just a moment in self-pity, because, shit. This really sucks.
“Fuck,” Seokjin adds, wincing at how hoarse his voice already is.
He presses both hands against his face, groaning softly and preparing himself for what lies ahead. He’ll need to let the others know. He should take some medicine, to lessen the symptoms. He’ll definitely have to call the company to discuss schedules and rearrange some things on the calendar.
What Seokjin wants, though, is to curl up in his bed and pull the blankets over his head and pretend like he’s not sick. Maybe he can just sleep it off. Maybe he can keep fighting it for just a little–
A harsh sneeze rips its way out of him, painful and wet. Uncomfortable. The thought of his poor dongsaengs, all six of them, having to go through this is more than Seokjin’s heart can handle at the moment, and he feels his eyes welling up with tears as he lifts his blanket and curls up on his bed and squeezes his eyes shut.
Just a little sleep. Just a little longer.
*
“How long has your throat been bothering you, Hyung?” Jimin asks, startling Seokjin as he sips on a glass of water at the kitchen table that evening, wincing with every swallow.
“Probably since Thursday, when Hobi-hyung said his throat hurt and Jin-hyung whispered “same”,” Jungkook shrugs. “Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping an eye on him.” He wraps a blanket around Seokjin’s shoulder and then wraps his arms around him from behind so he can’t shrug it off.
“You’re mishearing things,” Seokjin huffs, wiggling around weakly in Jungkook’s hold.
Taehyung sets a mug of tea down in front of Seokjin. “Drink this, Hyung. It’ll help your throat a lot.”
“You can go back to bed, Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. “We’ll take care of everything.”
“I haven’t even started making dinner yet,” Seokjin huffs. The thought of standing and even just walking to the kitchen makes his legs feel shaky.
“Tae is already on it,” Jimin tells him. “Do you want to go to your room, or to the couch?”
Seokjin doesn’t even reply. He just stands and lets Jungkook guide him down the hallway. It doesn’t feel right to have the youngest members taking care of him, the eldest member– but it feels necessary, considering how exhausted he is currently.
Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok are already sleeping in Seokjin’s bed, each of them snoring away. It’s a tight fit, but Seokjin crawls in next to Namjoon and curls around him easily, face buried in Namjoon’s shoulder. Jimin tucks him in alongside the other three, smoothing the blankets over them until Seokjin settles into sleep, his breathing evening out into soft snores that are drowned out by the congested breathing of the others.
“They sound so miserable,” Jimin frowns sadly.
“Are the four of them really going to snore like this all night? How are they not waking each other up?” Taehyung asks.
“They need a humidifier,” Jungkook decides. “I’ll go get mine and bring it in here. Turn them so they’re lying on their sides instead of their backs.”
When Jungkook returns with his humidifier, he finds that his four sick hyungs have been maneuvered to face each other– now Namjoon and Seokjin are chest to chest, while Yoongi and Hoseok are curled around each other, Yoongi’s head tucked under Hoseok’s chin.
“They’re still snoring,” Taehyung whines.
“That’s just Joonie-hyung. He might not stop.”
Jimin checks his phone. “I’m setting a timer for their next dose of medicine. We can wake them up for food, give them meds, and then put them back to bed.”
Jungkook’s hand settles on Seokjin’s forehead. “Poor Hyung,” he whispers. “He took really good care of all of us.”
Jimin gives a small smile. “And we’ll take good care of him, too.”
*
“What are we doing this week?” Jimin asks, staring at the calendar in confusion.
It’s nearly midnight and the three youngest members of the household are gathered in the kitchen before bed.
“I don’t know,” Taehyung replies, equally perplexed. “Jin-hyung usually does the calendar, but he erased everything for the rest of the month. How long did he think we were all gonna be sick?”
“Don’t you two ever look at the other calendar?” Jungkook asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Jimin and Taehyung turn to face him. “What other calendar?”
“The shared one. Everyone puts their stuff in it?” Jungkook spins his phone around to show the screen. “All of our meetings and other work stuff, plus practices and lessons and everything? How do you not know about it?”
Jimin grabs the phone, eyes going wide. “How long has this existed?”
“I just found out about it like a year ago,” Jungkook says. “But probably since debut. How do you think hyung keeps track of everything? He just likes to write it out so we can see it easier.”
Taehyung gulps. “Uh, that’s a shared calendar? Like, with the whole company?”
Jungkook smirks. “Yes, Hyung. Everyone knows about your Friday night anime marathons and your online book club.”
“There’s a lot of stuff on this calendar for tomorrow morning,” Jimin says, still looking at Jungkook’s phone.
“Guess we should head to bed, then,” Jungkook replies, hiding a yawn behind a fist. “It’s getting late.”
“Or we could stay up and watch something on TV?” Taehyung suggests.
“I mean…” Jimin looks between Taehyung and Jungkook. “We might as well call in sick tomorrow too, right? Someone needs to be here to take care of the hyungs.”
Jungkook nods. “Good idea. Maybe Tuesday, too.”
“It won’t be hard to catch up on stuff,” Taehyung adds. “We’ll be back to work in a few days.”
Their decision made, the three maknaes head to the living room, piling onto the couch and pulling blankets into their laps.
That’s where they all fall asleep a few hours later, and that’s where Hoseok finds them on Monday morning when he shuffles out of Seokjin’s room in a half-awake daze.
For a moment, he just stares blearily at them, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. Then, he shuffles into Jimin’s room and pulls the comforter off his bed, dragging it back out to drape it over the three of them, tucking it gently around their sleeping forms.
With a smile on his face, Hoseok goes back down the hall, slipping quietly into Seokjin’s room. Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi are all still fast asleep. Hoseok crawls into bed with them, snuggling against Seokjin’s warm body and closing his eyes so he can catch a few more blissful hours of sleep.
SFW, 1900 words. Thank you so much for the commission @em0-snail !
Nearly Foiled
Clearing out the medical facility of ferals had been a relatively easy task for the courier. They had been asked, politely, by Arcade, out of nowhere, if they could scout it out and grab any and all medical supplies they could find since Arcade had “suddenly ran low”. Although Arcade’s disorganization was uncharacteristic, the courier ran with it. Perhaps things had been busy for Arcade lately. The courier made a note to check in on him later.
With a satchel bag filled to the brim with Stimpaks and Radaways, the courier marched on. The sun was blaring and the air was dry, but they had become used to these long treks back to the strip. Someone needs supplies? Head towards some random, abandoned building. Clear it out. Return with said supplies. Repeat. There was comfort in the routine. And the appreciative smile that followed a job well done always left a warmth in their stomach that lingered for days. Especially when it came from a certain someone.
Yes Man, to be exact.
Six waved gently at the Securitrons guarding the gated entrance of the strip as the two heavily armed machines made way for them. Immediately, the courier was met with a sharp and chipper greeting.
“You’re back! That was fast! You’re getting really good at these supply runs,” Yes Man cheered. “I ran a few simulations to calculate how long you’d be gone and settled on approximately 9 hours. You’re back in just 4 hours and 27 minutes!” His voice sounded a little… strange. There was almost a disappointed tone towards the end of that sentence, with a layer of Yes Man’s usual optimism and positivity thinly spread on top.
“There weren’t that many ferals to begin with, really. The windows were all blown out so I was able to snipe most of them from a nearby hill. By the time I actually got inside the facility, there were only two or three left! Piece of cake,” Six’s confident voice told him.
The courier readjusted the satchel bag on their shoulder and took steps to walk around Yes Man and towards home— the Lucky 38 presidential suite.
“Sixer!” Yes Man exclaims as he quickly rolled in front of Six, stopping them in their tracks. “Are you sure you got everything you needed? Might be worth taking another look! Even just one or two more Stimpaks could make all the difference, you never know!”
The courier narrowed their eyes and stared at Yes Man’s facial display screen. His ever-present smiling face stared back, unchanging, but there was an impatient and almost mischievous air irradiating off of him. They leaned close and playfully poked at Yes Man’s chassis.
“...Is there something wrong? How come you want me to leave so badly?”
“What?! I don’t want you to leave! What are you talking about? You know you’re my favorite courier in the whole wide world! I was really looking forward to you coming back, actually!” Yes Man rolled back a little and almost shifted his gaze away from Six. “It’s just that— Arcade really needs fresh supplies, so I just wanted to make sure he was getting everything he needed, that’s all!”
“Well, listen, my satchel can’t hold much else. I also found some intact medical journals and some radio parts that I think could be really useful,” Six says. “If you really want me to, I can go back in a few days and double check everything. Sounds good?”
The courier didn’t wait for a response from Yes Man and, instead, sidestepped him once again and began walking home. Their right shoulder suddenly felt light.
“I’ll take that!” Yes Man said as he grabbed the courier’s satchel bag. “I’ll go ahead and drop this off with Arcade! You must be so tired. Why don’t you grab a drink and I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes?”
A deep sigh escaped Six. They note the erratic behavior and decide to just give in. There’s never been any distrust between Yes Man and Six besides, well, their initial meeting when the courier found out that it was actually Yes Man teamed up with Benny which led to the forehead scar hidden behind a few black strands of hair. Other than that though, things have been smooth sailing, Six thinks. Not only did they work efficiently together to accomplish their goals, but they were able to laugh and chat with each other, as if they had been lifelong friends. It was comfortable. It was safe. It was warm.
“...Okay, fine. I’ll grab a drink and see you in a few,” Six murmured as they walked towards Gomorrah. The courier could almost hear a giggle as Yes Man rolled away.
A few caps lighter, Six nurses a beer at a small table tucked away in the corner. A small sense of loneliness seeped into the back of their mind, imagining a warmer welcome home and possibly some quality time spent together. But instead, they were basically shooed away. The beer is crisp on such a hot day and being out of the sun was at least a relief. They slowly closed their eyes, leaned back, and enjoyed this moment.
“You make relaxing look so… enjoyable,” a pleasantly familiar voice says.
“That was fast,” Six said.
“I’m pretty efficient when it comes to these things, you know,” Yes Man said as he rolled towards the table and stood across from the courier. “Have another one, you deserve it!”
Six eyed their almost empty beer and smiled at Yes Man.
“Sure, sure, if you say so,” Six says as they hold up a finger towards one of the employees. “You know, if I had known that assertiveness upgrade would still make you unwaveringly accommodating towards me, I probably would have opposed the whole idea,” Six said as their smile melted and was replaced with a stoic expression. “Come on, tell me what’s going on.”
“You think just because I want you to relax after a supply run that my assertiveness upgrade has malfunctioned or something?” Yes Man chuckled loudly. “I still have the ability to say ‘no’ to you, you know, even if you are my favorite person.”
“Favorite person? I thought I was just your favorite courier,” Six smiled in a cheeky way.
“Same thing to me!”
A gentle silence passed between them and another beer was brought over to the table.
“Is it… a new camera system in the presidential suite?”
“Nope!” Yes Man said cheerily.
“You painted all the walls— that rusty orange with cream stripes, like we saw on that poster a few weeks ago!”
“Negatory!”
“...You connected Mr. House’s terminal to another super computer and now, the entire suite is stuffed—packed with wires and computer components that ooze out of the walls— and there’s a sentient AI that now calls the suite their home?”
“...No, but I want to read whatever book that gave you that idea!” Yes Man giggled. The courier took a deep breath and swallowed. If they had asked—told— Yes Man to outright tell them what was going on, he would. He cherished the closeness between them and has shown a deep appreciation for being given the freedom and autonomy that no other person has ever granted them. But Six didn’t want to do that. It would break this trust between them—the trust that they had built that told Yes Man that he would never be treated as an assistant AI ever again.
Six cleared their throat and sighed.
“I’ll just let you lead the way, then,” Six said. “Whatever plans you have made for the day, I’ll go along with it. I trust you.”
“Oh-ho-ho, that’s pretty tempting,” Yes Man said mischievously. “Maybe I could boss you around and tell all of the other Securitrons to hunt you down if you don’t do as I say!”
A loud guffaw escaped Six as they nearly choked on their beer.
“Oh, Yes Man, I know there’s a sweet heart inside of that metal frame,” Six said.
“You know me too well!” Yes Man said. “You probably know me better than anyone else. I’m pretty lucky to have someone like you to call my ‘favorite’.” He stared at the courier’s face and a comfortable silence passed them once more. After a few more sips, beer number two was done.
“Welp, time’s up!” Yes Man rolled towards Six’s side.
“...For what?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Yes Man said as he placed one claw on the back of Six’s chair, pulling out, and offering his other one for help. Six stared at Yes Man’s smiling face and tilted their head to the side in confusion, but gingerly placed their hand in his claw and made their way out of Gomorrah.
Soft, pink clouds covered the sky as the sun began setting. The walk to Lucky 38—to home— was comfortable. Six never let go of Yes Man’s claw after getting up from the table and neither of them had mentioned it. Their fingers wrapped around one of the three prongs, feeling the cool metal against their skin. Yes Man’s towering figure shadowed over them and it was difficult to see his facial display screen—not that it mattered much since his face was always the same, but the courier took comfort in seeing it. Almost as if he could sense Six was staring, Yes Man interrupted the silence.
“I’m not giving you any static shocks, am I?”
“Definitely not,” Six smiled, tightening their grip on the claw just a little bit more.
When the elevator arrived at the presidential suite, Yes Man gently nudged Six to exit first and they were immediately bombarded with a parade of colors before them.
“Surprise!!” shouted out a group of beloved friends. Spreading around the room, Six could see Arcade, Veronica, ED-E and Rex, all showing off a variety of birthday decorations: little paper birthday hats, colorful streamers and handmade fans. Hung across the room was a massive paper banner that read:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIX
They slowly turned towards Yes Man and playfully shoved him.
“So that’s what this has been all about!”
“Believe me, it was so hard keeping all of this a secret! I wanted to tell you so badly!” Yes Man chuckled.
Six jogged down the stairs and greeted all of their friends one by one. Their eyes scanned the room continuously, taking it all in. On a small table, there were beautifully handwrapped presents and what appeared to be a small dessert.
“Hey, could you do us all a favor next time,” Arcade asked. “Be a little slower on the next supply run. I was still cutting up streamers when Yes Man said you were already back.”
“Streamers? I was still hanging up that banner!” Veronica exclaimed. ED-E floated in circles around the room while Rex curled up around Six.
“This is so great, you guys… Whose idea was it?” Six asked.
Arcade and Veronica turned to face Yes Man.
“He rounded us up and handed out jobs,” Arcade said. “It was all so efficient and well-planned— even a simulation for how long you’d be gone.”
“Oh, I’ll be factoring in some more variables in the future so I can get more accurate predictions, don’t you worry!” Yes Man exclaimed.
Six crossed the room and rested a hand against Yes Man’s chassis.
“You have no idea how much this means to me…” their smile softened. “Thank you.”
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Childe is quite affectionate, if not, very affectionate.
He almost met the requirements for the five love languages—almost; the man failed in the quality time department, obviously. But he's a good lover. Opening and holding the door for you, only leaving after making sure you've reached the safety of your home, and giving gifts even on the most ordinary Monday.
"You look good in that dress, babe." "Let me see that pretty face." "Good morning, angel," and a whole bunch of other sweet nothings he said to you. Oh, how he loved to hold you on his lap, burying his nose in your sweet scent while ignoring the stack of documents that demanded his attention.
B = Babe (What would they use as pet names? Do they use them a lot?)
Definitely: doll, babe, baby, angel.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Childe is the biggest cuddle bug, and luckily doesn't have much free time for it (or else the man will forever demand it from you, as if he's eternally glued to your hip). Enjoys being the big spoon in the middle of a chilly night, naked. When you question him about how he remained alive, all he says is, "Darling, do I need to remind you where I come from?"
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Childe is quite good at cooking, but it's mostly Snezhnayan food. I always picture him in the kitchen, wearing a crimson or navy blue apron and flipping whatever is in the pan with a proud smile. Though he makes an effort to clean as much as he can, there is always a dusty spot that remains unattended. Still, he found the window and table wiping to be pretty enjoyable!
E = Emotion (How are they with showing emotion in public versus private?)
I think, by default, Childe is a pretty empty person if we put aside his dark desires and ambitions. In public, he looks like a chill guy. He is cold and full of discipline towards his subordinates. Childe is quite respectful of his fellow Harbingers and those he admires; keep a little distance and minimize conversations with some strange people (for example: Dottore). However, to his family, closest friends, and his significant other, Childe is as warm as the sun and wears his heart on his sleeve.
F = Flirt (How do they flirt? Are they smooth or awkward?)
Oh, he's a smooth flirt, alright. He knows his potential and maximizes it. Usually he squeezes three or four or more in his private time with you.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Childe really gentle with his lover. God, I can't imagine the canon him being a violent person (despite his crazy hobby of wanting to fight any breathing creature within his radius). Would massage your feet if you asked. He kissed your ankles in an attempt to make sure there wasn't an inch of you left untouched by him. Treats you like a tiny little bird. Even if there is a moment where he's rough, you can bet it will, ahem, leave more pleasure than pain.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Childe loves hugs! However, I can't say he gave a warm hug. Most of the time, he does the initiating, and hugs from behind are his favorite thing to give.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
Long enough for Childe to say these magical words. He had many considerations: was what he felt more than just admiration? Will his confession burden you? Anyway, despite his playful and easygoing persona, Childe didn't say these words carelessly.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
With his confident air, you'd think it would take a lot to make Childe jealous. Wrong. Whoever he considers to be stronger and more worthy than him, Childe turns into a green-eyed monster. But, there are some people who don't know their place that makes him sometimes… feel the need to emphasize his relationship with you.
In the first case, Childe might pout all day or sulk like a child. However, in the second case, he will show warning signs to the poor person by resting his hands on your hips or even a hug from behind while resting his chin on your shoulder. Oh, and that triumphant grin on his face when he knew the signal had been picked up.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
Childe's kisses were of many kinds. Short kiss. Soft kiss. And kisses full of desire and longing every time he came back from a long mission or a tiring day. He likes to kiss you on the lips, knuckles, and neck. He loves receiving kisses on the lips, cheeks, head, and the tip of his nose.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
We know the answer to this one!! He is very. Very. Good. With. Children.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
Unfortunately, Childe is an early bird, thanks to his job. There's not much you can do in the morning when he's on a work day other than watch him leave. You figure that comes with the job and loving the man. On his days off, he will make sure to spend more time in bed with you, either by cuddling or sleeping through the entire day.
But don't expect him to be as understanding if it has to do with your job. This ginger-haired devil will try his best to keep you in his arms and weigh you down with his body in the hope you'll change your mind about coming to work today. He's super dramatic when you don't.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
Childe had irregular working hours, which meant most nights he came home late and you were already asleep. However, on days where he can go home early, he makes sure to take a bath together before going to bed. He's a light sleeper, by the way! Every time you turned around and moved away from him in your sleep, he made sure to pull you close back to him.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
Childe had many considerations about the things he held close to his heart. There are some things about him that he fears will change your perception of him. It took him a few months into the relationship to reveal a stupid little secret, and that too was delivered and disguised as a joke. After making sure the foundation of his relationship was stronger, he would then tell the things he only dared to whisper when night fell.
P = Propose (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
At first, I thought Childe was the type of person who would propose about two or three years into a relationship. However, now that I think about it, marriage is also a very, very big thing for him. He has no problem committing, but if we're honest, marriage never crossed his mind until he met you.
It would take quite a while if he wanted to propose marriage. Because apart from the nature of his job (and the possibilities that accompany it), Childe is quite sensitive to rejection. He'll have to make sure you're also on the same boat regarding marriage before he dares present you with the ring he bought somewhere in Mond.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
I don't think he's the type of lover who has the ability to remember small details about his significant other. Sure, he remembers your favorite food, your choice of flowers, and the songs you used to hum; However, he's not the type to go into too much detail.
Despite that, Childe gave you the best things he could get. So, even though he sometimes forgets things you've mentioned before, you can surrender yourself completely to him because you know, Childe will move heaven and earth for you.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
The night he realized he loved you, as the world turned more colorful than ever. However, if Childe fell in love with you at first sight, his favorite memory would be the first time he laid eyes on you.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Childe is quite protective, but (thankfully) not so much that you feel suffocated. He is quite secretive in protecting you. Always sweep his gaze around scanning for possible dangers in every place you visit. Not to the extent of ordering his subordinates to follow you, but he can always be sure and will go to any lengths so that you don't get hurt.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
Childe is a good lover. However, gestures of affection are more about big things such as giving gifts, inviting to romantic dinners, and basic things that couples usually do. As I said before, he doesn't remember small details very well; but he makes sure everything he gives you is the best.
He may have trouble remembering what kind of ring you like, but you can bet your money he'll buy the shiniest one to adorn your ring finger. His effort can be seen from the way he gives the best, the most luxurious; while small and simple things like a picnic in the park, a walk around the lake are more your thing.
U = Unique (What makes them unique as a partner?)
It's the fact that you hear how horrible he is – that he's this bloodthirsty warrior and all the gossip about how he's the Tsaritsa's weapon, and yet you only see a lovesick, little pomeranian puppy swinging his tail happily every time you look at him.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
This pretty boy knows he's all that. It's so unfair how the effort Childe puts into his appearance only consists of washing his face with just water – showering – getting out of the shower with wet hair, and letting it air dry (how can his hair stay fluffy with so little care???). He only used one perfume that Tonia gave him (and mind you, he's been using it for YEARS). And... that's it. All set to take on the day.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?
He would die without you. That's enough said.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
Childe did flirt here and there, but surprisingly, his only love experience was having a tiny schoolboy crush on a girl back in Snezhnaya when he was six years old. After falling into the abyss, his teenage years were filled with all the trouble he managed to cause – the fights he managed to be a part of before his father handed him over to the Fatui. Clear records of exes.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
??? I can't think of anything other than Childe doesn't like partners who are.. possessive. He was a young man who still loved traveling and exploring the world, and the thought of having a partner who intended to confine him to one place forever sounded hellish to him.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)
Childe is either a lightsleeper or a very heavysleeper, there is no in between. On weekdays, he can jolt awake from the slight noise from the kitchen. But, he sleeps like a hibernating bear on weekend or when he has overworked himself. Childe likes to sleep on his stomach, shirtless. Snoring varies in intensity from light to moderate.
SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.
Hello! I’m Key, and this is my commission sheet! All of the necessary information for commissioning me is here, and I’d appreciate it if you could take a look before shooting me a message! Here is my Ao3 For Reference! Please see the aforementioned link for Will/Won't Write List and Ships I Will/Won't Write List!
GUIDELINES
Please read my Will Not Write section thoroughly. Just because something is on the list doesn’t mean that I dislike or don’t support it, but there are things on that list that I just don’t have enough interest in writing. That said, things on my Will Write list do not inherently mean that I support or like it.
Currently, the only fandoms listed that I will write for are Sonic Live Action Movies, Sonic Archie Comics, Various Sonic Media, and Sonic Creepypastas (.EXE, Rewrite, Sink). This is because they are current hyperfixations for me and I am more capable of writing for them without issue.
I will allow up to three edits of less than 300 words before those incur a fee. If I interpreted your prompt wrong entirely, please let me know. If the confusion was on my part, no fee for a total rewrite will be incurred.
Please message me before filling out the form for a commission. I’d like to discuss particulars about certain topics and things and I’d like to approve the commission beforehand.
If given artistic freedom for a prompt, I will write how I naturally write the characters. I am willing to take direction for how you want characters to be written. I would prefer not to go against canon to the point of completely erasing a character’s identity. This does not count for certain kink scenarios (Bimbofication and other mind-altering things).
This is a kink-friendly account. I will not harass others over their fictional tastes and I do not support harassing anyone for any reason. I will write things that will make you uncomfortable. I will write things that are dead dove: do not eat. I will write a whole host of things and if that upsets you, please find someone else to commission. I am also willing to write kinks that are not mine! Please keep this in mind!
I predominantly write romance, smut, fluff, and angst, but can try my hand at other genres.
I do not mind aging characters up for smut, and I will write any manner of ship type from m/f, m/m/, f/f, to polyamory. Please keep in mind that a fee will incur for more than 4 characters in a ship per every 1k words. If your ship includes 6 people then I will require at least 1,500 words minimum to write them. Smut for that many will be over 2,000 words easily.
For prompts, I will accept up to five words, two sentences, or a small paragraph of what you would like for me to write. Please try to be as concise as possible.
I will not start your commission until the upfront $15 for the first 500 words is paid. Once that is paid, I will begin and you will only be charged for the rest once the fic is completely finished and edited. I tend to add 100+ words to things in the editing process, as a heads-up. Payment can be made via PayPal, Venmo, and CashApp.
Will Write List
Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Most Kinks (PLEASE ask if you’re unsure), Smut, Top/Bottom Dynamics, Omegaverse, AUs, Crossovers, Domestic Fluff, Violence, Age Gap Ships, Any Sexualities, Intersex Characters, Homophobia/Transphobia/Fantasy Racism/Racism (IF THE CONTENT IS RELEVANT TO THE CHARACTER), Your OCs, My OCs, OC-Centric Fics, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Angst, Headcanon-Based Things, Canon Compliant Fic, Canon Divergent Fic, Most Ships, Sickfics, Whump
Will Not Write List
Defecation of ANY KIND, gas, eye trauma, OCs without proper information for me to work from
PRICES
500 Word Base Price - $15
After the initial 500 words, a fee of $8 will be charged for every 100 words. If this is a rush order (needing to be completely finished in two weeks or less), there will be an additional $10 charge.
600 Words - $23
700 Words - $31
800 Words - $39
900 Words - $47
1,000 Words - $55
1,100 Words - $63
1,200 Words - $71
1,300 Words - $79
1,400 Words -$87
1,500 Words - $95
1,600+ Words - $103+, Open To Discussion
opening a few fic commissions! feel free to reach out if there's anything you want to discuss. at this time, i'm not able to write anything over 3k words, sorry ^^;
each fic will take about a week to complete. you will be updated along the way!
you can check out my pinned post or my ao3 for examples of my writing!
CW: third person pov, canon x oc, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex work, drug withdrawal, attempt of noncon, oral sex, handjob, fingering, p in v sex
WC: 8.2k
Masterlist || Comissions Info
When Heat and Wire heard noises coming from the pantry, they expected to find some sort of wild animal, a racoon or rats or maybe even a stray dog. Well, there was an animal, a black cat missing limbs and most of its tail, but the cat wasn't really the cause of the issue. The real problem was the pink haired woman scavenging through the Kid Pirate's food stores, though she looked so feral she may as well classify as a wild animal anyway. Dirty, her clothes torn, her hair messy and overgrown where her style clearly dictated shaving, and pupils blown out from drugs. It was a look they both recognized well from their home island, making the two men exchange a saddened, sympathetic look as the woman looked at them with wide, frightened eyes - yet she continued to tear at her stolen turkey leg, like she was scared she wouldn't get to eat again. It made them wonder how long she'd gone without food, that the presence of two relatively massive pirates didn't deter her.
Her cat stumbling noisily behind her as it tried to shake a jar from its head broke the stand off between the three of them, and Wire was quick to snatch her up. She fought him, of course, trying to beat him off with her weak arms and her turkey leg, to which Wire merely sighed and adjusted his hold on her, tearing the turkey away from her and tossing it aside, much to her dismay. He held her out by the scruff of her shirt as she wildly swung all her limbs at him and growled like a caged cat, unable to reach him with her much shorter arms and legs. She was so small compared to Wire, he'd thought she was a child at first glance, if not for all the tattoos. Heat gingerly scooped up her cat, who was far more friendly than the woman and merely gave a chirp at the sudden abduction, following Wire out of the room to take the two invaders to the boss.
Kid sat in his throne like chair at the head of the dining table, gorging on meat as his first mate stood to his side. He looked up in confusion as he heard the shrill angry screams and familiar calls of “BOSS!” approaching from the hall. Wire dragged the woman in, putting her in a chokehold as she turned her anger on Kid the second she was close enough. ‘Is this love at first sight?’ Kid thought to himself as he watched the feral woman try to fight a man at least three times her size, unarmed but fearless at her captor. He liked a woman with a bit of fire to her, it was more of a challenge. This one was small too, he couldn't help but picture how easy it would be to manhandle her however he liked. He shook his head at the intrusive thought as his pants threatened to get tight. The woman clawed at Wire's arm, leaving deep gashes in his tan skin, but he paid it no mind.
“Found some rats in the pantry,” Wire told Kid in his deep monotone voice.
“I'LL SHOW YOU A FUCKING RAT,” the woman screamed, “GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OF ME YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A BDSM SCARECROW.”
“How the fuck did she get in the pantry?” Killer scowled under his mask, unphased by the slew of insults she continued to throw at them. “Heat, find out who was on watch, have them punished.”
“What do I do with the cat?” Heat asked, shifting awkwardly.
“Drown it or some shit, who cares,” Kid waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the woman screaming in his face. The wave of his hand brought it close enough to her mouth, and she took her opportunity to bite him as hard as she could, sinking her dirty teeth into his flesh. He recoiled his hand quickly, inspecting the deep, bleeding bite. “FUCKING BITCH!” he growled, “you better not have fucking rabies.”
“LEAVE MY CAT ALONE YOU FUCKING PIG FACED CUNT,” she spat at him, “HURT HIM AND I'LL BITE YOUR FUCKING DICK OFF NEXT, AND BURN YOUR STUPID SHITTY CASTLE AND YOUR STUPID UGLY ASS BOAT TO THE GROUND.”
Kid held his hand against the cool metal of his prosthetic to soothe the bite as the woman huffed from excursion in his face, her teeth bared at him like a wild animal. His dick twitched involuntarily at the threats, damn this woman. He leaned back in his chair, looking her up and down, inspecting her. Yeah, she was fuckable, even if she was filthy right now. Best not kill her cat if he wants her down to clown though.
There was something else about her too though, a desperation and a sadness in her eyes that reminded him of a woman he used to know. It made him feel sorry for her, perhaps even a little protective, or maybe just nostalgic. He sighed to himself, he couldn't just have his fun and be done with her, the guilt afterwards would eat away at him if he let a second woman die.
“Lock the cat in one of the spare rooms,” he decided flippantly, “give it a bowl of water or whatever. Food I guess, I don't know, what ever the fuck cats need. Then bring the lookout to me, find out how she got here. There's gotta be a boat or some shit.”
“On it boss,” Heat replied, leaving the room with the cat still in hand. The woman watched him leave, confused. Why the change of heart? She stopped fighting against the man holding her, eyes flicking back to the redhead who was clearly in charge here. He looked… sad? He looked her in the eye, holding her gaze for a moment, like he was trying to see what her true character was, whether she was worth keeping. There wasn't much the woman could do to convey her worth, she didn't feel she had any.
“Calmed down?” Kid asked gruffly. She looked away and stared at the floor, feeling exposed, the fight completely gone from her. Something about his amber eyes had torn the fight away. Maybe it was because she knew she had no chance of surviving these four men, but maybe if she behaved they would at least be gentle. She could only make assumptions about what four grown pirate men would want with her, let alone the rest of the crew she had yet to see. “Good,” Kid continued, taking her silence as an answer. Wire took it as his signal to let her go, but stayed close, in case she angered again. “What's your name pipsqueak?”
The woman stayed silent, staring at the floor. Why did they care what her name was? What did it matter when she was probably just a toy for them anyway, something to be used and discarded without care. “Speak,” Wire insisted behind her, giving her a short shove and causing her to stumble closer to the captain. She turned and hissed at him, before turning back to Kid with a little more fire in her.
“Nina,” she spat.
“Nina,” Kid repeated, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue, “you wanna join my crew?”
“Huh?” Nina huffed, completely thrown off. She hadn't at all expected that. Killer and Wire exchanged a look, it wasn't like Kid to just offer people a place on his crew, let alone so quickly. Then again, they'd both have to be blind to not see the similarities between this stubborn woman and Victoria. Neither was willing to risk Kid's wrath by pointing it out though, so they both held their tongues.
“What, you got a better plan?” Kid laughed, “seems to me that you're all alone and half dead, but you've got some fire in ya, and lucky for you I have a soft spot for basket cases. So you wanna join or what? Or we can just handle you the way we normally handle rats.”
“I… I guess?” Nina replied hesitantly after giving it some thought. It wasn't like she had a lot of choice here. Worst case, at least she'd be alive, she could always run off at the next island. These men were clearly pirates, she'd seen their ship and their jollyroger, they wouldn't stay settled on this island for long. In the meantime maybe she'd at least have a secure source of food and shelter.
“Good choice,” Kid barked, “Kil, get ‘er cleaned up and set. Welcome to the Kid Pirates, pipsqueak.”
Nina stayed in the shower longer than she probably should have, but the hot water felt good against her irritated skin after so long at sea without access to proper bathing. She let the water wash over her as she stood deep in thought, trying to understand what the fuck had happened. The first mate had brought her to this bathroom, a communal space but he'd promised her privacy as he stood guard outside - whether for her protection or the protection of the crew she wasn't quite sure. It wasn't like she had any weapons on her, Killer had made sure of that before leaving her on her own to shower. She'd told him where to find her boat, and he promised her things would be brought ashore for her. She didn't understand why they were bothering, this all felt like some elaborate trick to get her comfortable before they kill her, maybe to make her death more cruel, or to make her more pliable to their demands.
Killer knocking on the door startled her from her reverie, making her jolt. “Hurry it up, I've got shit to do, new girl,” Killer called from the other side of the door. She quickly shut off the water and dried herself, redressing in the clean clothes Killer had grabbed for her. The last thing she wanted to do was anger anyone and make them change their mind about keeping her alive. The clothes weren't a lot, just a blue men's shirt that was far too large for her, some briefs - also too large but she made do by tying a knot on at the waistband - and a set of fluffy socks. It was certainly better than the torn, dirty clothes she'd been wearing though, which she tossed in a waste bin, there was no point trying to save them.
“You decent?” Killer called again. Nina checked her appearance in the mirror quickly, making sure everything was covered. She scowled at her sunken eyes with their heavy bags, her overgrown hair that was stuck to her scalp from the water, the numerous cuts and scrapes and bruises that littered her body, more visible now that the grime that hid most of them away was gone. Some of them seemed infected, and she winced as she prodded at one particularly inflamed looking cut. With a sigh she called out to Killer that he could come in, and he did so immediately. Moving to a nearby cabinet he pulled out a first aid box, gesturing for her to sit on one of the dressing benches that ran down the center of the bathroom.
He knelt in front of her, the height difference between them meaning they would have been eye to eye if not for the mask, as he sat the first aid kit on the bench and opened it, pulling out several things. “Can I touch you?” He asked, “just to tend to your injuries.”
Nina blinked in confusion, she couldn't even remember the last time someone asked her for consent, let alone cared for her physical wellbeing. “Y-yeah,” she replied in a small voice.
Killer was quiet as he tended to her wounds, carefully cleaning and disinfecting each one before laying a sterlile dressing over them. He applied a soothing ointment over her bruises, and added paper stitches to a few particularly nasty cuts. She sat frozen the whole time, but couldn't help but feel that his light touches against her skin felt nice. It'd been a long time since anyone had been gentle with her. Slowly she let herself relax, closing her eyes and just focusing on the soft touch of his warm fingertips against her skin. She stifled a sigh as his fingers smoothed out the dressing on her nose, momentarily running over the tops of her cheeks before his hands moved on to the next injury. By the time he was done she was covered in small dressings, a few larger palm sized ones here and there.
After discarding the small pile of trash he'd accumulated in the process, he gestured for her to follow him. They met Wire again, who carried a bag with him. Nina recognized it as hers, as the tall man handed it to Killer. “This her stuff?” the first mate asked.
“Yeah, boat was right where she said it would be,” Wire replied, eyes shifting to Nina for a moment as he inspected how many dressings Killer had needed to give her. She was in a worse shape than Wire had initially thought. “Heat put the cat in the room next to Quince. Kid's dealing with the henchie that was on watch.”
“Okay,” Killer replied. Wire nodded and turned to leave, and Killer turned back to Nina. He held the bag out for her to take, and she looked at him befuddled. The chainsaw sticking out of the bag was obvious, and the way the bag was packed looked like nobody had even looked inside. Were they stupid, or were they really giving her a weapon? “You want your shit or not?” Killer asked, jostling the bag a little, and Nina quickly grabbed it back. She slung the bag over her shoulder, and quickly scurried to follow him again, as he'd already begun walking once more.
He opened the door to a spacious room, where her cat, Zap, quickly hobbled over to greet her, rubbing against her leg. She picked him up and gave him a small affectionate squeeze, before looking properly at the room. It was… nice. Really nice, actually. She'd sort of expected an old crusty mattress on the floor and a lock on the outside of her door, but this seemed like an ordinary, nice, bedroom. There was a large bed made up with clean bedding, a big round mirror, dressers and shelves for her things, a big round light hanging from the ceiling that someone had turned on already for Zap - Heat, assumedly. There were even a few bowls on the floor near the dresser - one filled with fresh water, the other dirty with the remnants of whatever meat Zap had been given while Nina was showering.
Looking at the room, Nina suddenly realised that maybe this wasn't a trick. These pirates were being nothing but kind to her and Zap. She'd never even stayed in a room this nice before, not a single piece of furniture looked dirty or broken or worn. It was a safe, welcoming space, and it was all for her. She could fight back, she had her weapon now, but they didn't expect her to, because there was no need. She was safe here, with this crew. Maybe it was fate that her small rickety boat had brought her to this island.
She turned to Killer with a wide smile, the first smile she'd had in months, maybe even years. “Thank you,” she said softly. His heart fluttered a little and he blushed under his mask at her pretty grin, the corners of her eyes creased from it, making the little heart tattoo under her eye dance with the shift of skin.
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied, trying to hide the fluster in his voice. “Uh, get settled in, I'll come grab you close to dinner to show you the dining hall in a few hours.”
He turned and left quickly, leaving the door open, showing her she was not a prisoner here. The second he was gone she put Zap down on the floor, leaned her bag against the dresser, and flopped onto the bed with a giggle. It was soft, and she buried her face in the blankets, which smelled freshly laundered and pleasant. She inhaled the scent, letting out a relieved exhale as she rolled onto her back and relaxed against the blankets. Zap made his best attempt at a jump but fell short, so Nina had to pick him up to put him on the bed, at which point he trilled happily and curled up next to her to sleep. Petting his head gently, she idly stared at the ceiling, noticeably mold and rot free, and let out a contented sigh. For the first time in a long while, Nina felt safe, and like things were finally looking up for her.
Weeks passed, and Nina seemed like she was settling in well. As well as she could anyway, given everything she'd been through. It was clear to the commanders that she'd been lost, feeling like her life had no use, just wandering endlessly trying to find a reason to keep going. Kid and Killer sympathized, they'd felt the same way after Victoria died. They did what they could to give Nina purpose, assigning her as the new ship doctor after learning about her previous work with Dr. Hogback. She wasn't used to working with the living, but she was doing her best to adapt. It gave her a reason to get up every day, knowing these pirates had use for her, especially when they took back to the sea and the rate of injuries increased with the uptick in battles.
Several months passed, seemingly calmly, but Heat was growing suspicious of the new addition. When Nina had turned up on the island it was clear she was under the influence of something strong. Heat had expected more resistance from her as she sobered, but the telltale symptoms of clearing drugs from the veins had never come. Heat was well educated when it came to the hard stuff, he'd been there, he knew the damage it could do. Kid had a strict policy about drugs on the ship because of what they'd all seen from their home island, weed was the hardest thing the crew was allowed. Heat had made it clear to Nina that he grew plenty of cannabis to go around, all she had to do was ask, but she never did. And yet, she still showed the signs of being high - the blown pupils, the jitteriness, the short fuse. Though that last one may have just been her, it was hard to tell.
He had sympathy for her as well though, he didn't want Kid just straight kicking her off the ship when he knew she had nowhere to go, so instead he took his concerns to Killer. The first mate understood the fragility of the situation, and Heat's reservations about bringing it to Kid, so he decided to take care of it himself. Back on the island there were plenty of places one might go to do drugs in secret, especially when she had her own room, but here on the ship, sharing a room with three other crewmates, there were limited places one could hide.
He started covertly watching her, using his haki to follow her movements through the ship. The drugs and her trauma made her paranoid, making the surveillance harder, but Killer was silent on his feet and knew this ship far better than she did. He knew where every creaky floorboard was, every blind spot where he could avoid her gaze, and used them to his advantage. It didn't take long to catch her out, following her to the deck above the stern castle, where crew rarely went. It was after dark, but the full moon gave enough light to navigate by.
He emerged from the ladder leading to the deck as she was tightening a tourniquet around her arm, a syringe held in her mouth ready to inject. She stared at him like a deer in headlights, too slow to react as he rushed at her, grabbing everything he could and throwing it as far away as his muscles would allow. There was a fight for the syringe, her nails clawing at him as she shrieked, but inevitably that was thrown too. She ran to the railing and let out a deafening scream as she watched her drugs disappear under the surface of the water, lost to the ocean, the moonlight glittering against the metal of the syringe needle before it was gone for good. In her anger and drug-craving haze she tried to jump after it, but tight arms around her waist pulled her away from the edge of the deck.
“LET GO OF ME!” she screamed, flailing her legs and scratching his arms as he stepped backwards away from the long fall at the back of the ship that plunged straight to freezing open seas. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!”
“I know exactly what I've done,” Killer growled back, “you know the rules, Kid would have kicked you off for that shit. You want to go back to scavenging for your next meal?”
“You don't understand!” She cried. Her fighting stopped, but she still gripped his arms hard. “I need them, I need them!”
“You don't,” he replied firmly, shifting his hold on her to be more of a hug, letting her feet rest back against the deck. She slumped in his arms, only kept up by him as tears streamed down her face. She didn't know how to be sober anymore, that reality was too hard to even think about. “You don't need that shit, it's poison, I've seen people destroyed by it. It would have killed you.”
“So?” Nina spat indignantly, “who the fuck cares.”
“Don't say that,” Killer sighed, squeezing her a little tighter and pressing his mask against her shoulder. She shivered a little at the brisk night air, but his warm front against her back was a comfort against the cold. “I know you've not been here long, but you have friends. We care about you, we're here for you. You found us for a reason, you belong here with us.”
“I don't- I can't-” she started, feeling helpless.
“I'll help you,” Killer replied, “I'll help you get clean, okay?”
“Okay,” Nina replied in a small voice, not having much choice. Killer held her for a while longer, letting her get out her tears, before walking her back to her room.
“She can't stay with us like this,” Quincy huffed, “she's up all night, tossing and turning, screaming in her sleep! We want her to get clean, we do, but she needs to do it somewhere else! We need sleep!”
Killer slumped down in his chair and let his head loll back, his mask making a ‘clunk’ against the back of the chair as he let out a heavy sigh. He had a feeling this would happen with making Nina go cold turkey, but there was no good solution. He'd considered converting a storage room for her while she sobered, but recent raids had all the rooms full with treasure and weapons, there was no space to even hang a hammock. Quincy was right though, it wasn't fair for the three girls who shared a room with Nina to have to deal with the effects of her sobering up, especially when the worst was still to come.
“I'll sort it,” Killer grunted. There was really only one solution he could see here, and he hated it, but it wouldn't be forever. He stood and marched past Quincy, making his way to where he knew Nina would be. He found her exactly as expected, and he knelt next to her bed, pulling back the blankets that she'd pulled over her head.
“Fuck off,” Nina growled, not even turning to look at him. She was shivering like she was freezing, her skin clammy with sweat.
“Pack your shit,” Killer tried his best to reply in a gentle manner, “you're moving room.”
Nina took some convincing to get out of bed, while in the meantime Killer gathered her things. Zap squeaked as Killer picked him up, Nina's duffle in his other hand; the cat hardly left her side, especially while she'd been essentially bedridden. Nina unwillingly followed him bare foot in her pajamas across the deck and up the stairs, pausing as she realised she was being led into the stern castle where the commanders all resided. “I'm… staying here?” She asked hesitantly, raising her hand to block the sunlight that was hurting her eyes.
“You're taking my room, while you get sober,” Killer explained, giving her a small push on her lower back to get her moving again, “I'll stay with Kid in the meantime.”
“You don't have to do that,” she said in a small voice as he opened the door to his room and dumped her stuff on the floor, placing Zap on the bed. He didn't like knowing there was going to be cat chair all over his usually spotless room, but there wasn't much that could be done without upsetting Nina by seperating her from the only thing that seemed to give her comfort right now.
“I do, actually,” Killer sighed, “the girls can't sleep with your current condition and it's only going to get worse. It's not forever, just until you're clean. Just… don't fuck my room up, okay? I'll be across the hall if you need anything, I cleared the top drawers for your stuff, bathroom is through that door.”
Nina was already climbing under his blankets as he explained everything, more than exhausted from the short walk and wanting to go back to sleep, where her head didn't feel like it was going to split open. Killer took the time to fill a bowl with water for Zap, Quincy had been essentially caring for the cat while Nina was sick anyway, so he guessed that was his job now. He made a mental note to go grab the litter box and food bowl, before sighing to himself and leaving Nina to brood.
Killer quickly understood why the girls had needed their space from Nina. The crew quarters were far from the stern castle, so he couldn't hear her before, but now that she was across the hall her screaming was loud and clear. “Shut her up,” Kid growled as he rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. Against his will, Killer climbed out of bed and slipped on his mask, sleepily making his way across the hall, barefooted in his blue gingham pajama pants. Wire opened his door down the hall and gave Killer a look as though to ask if he needed help, but Killer waved him off before reaching for the handle to what was usually his bedroom door.
Inside the room, chaos had ensued. He noted Zap hiding under the dresser as Nina threw things around, narrowly missing Killer with a lamp. She let out a blood curdling scream at him, and he wondered if she was even seeing him, or something monstrous in his place. It was a likely scenario that she was fighting some invisible demon, hallucinations brought on by her withdrawal. He grabbed her before he could hurt him or herself, pinning her arms to her front as he held her from behind. “Shh, I got you,” Killer soothed, “it's Kil, there's only the two of us here, you're safe on the Victoria Punk, nobody is going to hurt you.”
Nina was panting hard, drenched with sweat and shaking, but she at least stopped screaming, and stopped fighting him. “There you go, you're okay,” he said softly, loosening his hold a little, “I've got you. Just breathe.”
“Killer,” she whimpered, like she was remembering herself, “I'm so scared. And it hurts, so much.”
“I know, I know,” Killer shushed, pulling her to the bed and into his lap as he sat. He rocked her gently as she continued to make small sad whimpers. “We're gonna get through this.”
“Will you stay with me?” She mumbled against his chest. She was struggling to discern what was real and what wasn't, and she felt like she couldn't defend herself against that. She needed someone with her, who could help her see that the awful things she were seeing were all in her head. Killer considered it for a moment. He would be uncomfortable, unable to take his mask off to sleep, but right now it was clear Nina needed a friend, or she might not make it through this.
“I'll stay,” Killer replied. Nina breathed a shaky sigh of relief and nestled into him, letting him hold her like a scared child as she tried to ground herself. Eventually he convinced her to lay back down to sleep, but he never let go of her, letting her use him like an anchor as the hallucinations threatened to steal her sanity away and her body ached from exhaustion.
Killer woke with a startle, feeling his pants being tugged at, putting him into fight or flight. He threw the covers off to find Nina weakly and desperately trying to get his pants further down, her small hand wrapped around Killer's semi-erect cock. He quickly grabbed her hand and tried to pull her away, but she rushed back towards him. He jumped off the bed as he pulled his pants back up, and she scrambled after him like a woman possessed, kneeling at his feet and tugging at his pants again while he gripped them hard to keep them up.
“NINA, WHAT THE FUCK?” he growled, trying to get away from her as she crawled after him, a crazed look in her eyes.
“Please, I need one more hit, just one more,” Nina pleaded, “let me trade for it, please, please. I'll suck your dick, I'll make you feel so good, please I just want one more hit then I'll get sober, I promise. Please I can make it worth it for you, I'm really good, please!”
“Not fucking happening,” Killer snapped, “Nina stop, I'm not giving you more drugs.”
“Please, please,” she pleaded. She collapsed at his feet, tears falling to the floor as she clawed at his pants. “I can't do this, what's the point? Why am I even trying?”
Killer fell to his feet in front of her, taking her face in his hands. “Nina, look at me,” he growled, “look at me.”
“How can I fucking look at you?!” She cried, “I can't even see your face! I don't even know what fucking colour your eyes are!”
Killer sighed and gathered all his mental fortitude. He should have seen that coming, it was only fair. “You want a trade? I'll make you a trade,” he replied in a low voice. Nina perked up, hopeful that he was caving. She was desperate for another rush, she felt miserable and alone and everything hurt, just one more hit and everything would feel okay, she just knew it. He saw the hope in her eyes and hated to snuff it out, but it was a necessary evil. “I'm not getting you more meth,” Killer sighed, “I can get you weed, but nothing more. But I'll make you a deal. You get sober, and I'll show you my face.”
Nina blinked at him, disappointed and confused. “The thing is, only Kid, Heat and Wire ever see my face,” Killer sighed, “I get that you don't feel like you can trust me, when I'm not even letting you see all of me. But I don't like my face, I don't like my smile. I don't let anyone see it, except the people I trust the most. Showing my face is the hardest thing I can do, but I know right now you're going through something really fucking hard too. So I'll make you a deal. You be brave, and I'll be brave too. I know right now it hurts, and everything is terrifying and you feel like the whole world is against you, but it's not. I'm right here, you don't have to do this alone.”
“Kil..” Nina sobbed, falling forward and letting him wrap his arms around her.
Things had to get worse before they got better, and get worse they did. Nina was reduced to a screaming, writhing mess, consumed by hallucinations and crying out for someone to either kill her, or let her have one more hit. She started refusing meals, until she became too weak to refuse and gave in, letting Killer hold her while he carefully spoon fed her. He became her full time carer, helping her to the bathroom and bathing her when it couldn't be avoided any longer. She practically lived in his shirts now, oversized on her but his familiar scent gave her comfort whenever he had to leave her to attend to his first mate duties. She never left the room, never left the bed without his assistance, she just tossed and turned and screamed all day, except when he was holding her. With him there, things were easier. He grounded her, made it easier to tell what was real and what wasn't. After several nights of running to her room at well past midnight, he'd given in to her pleas to stay with her, despite how uncomfortable he was sleeping with his mask on. She curled around his body every night like a koala clinging to a tree, whimpering in her sleep, but at least having him there was a balm for the screaming.
Killer got used to waking up with her limbs tangled with his, so when he woke up to find her not there, panic set in immediately. “Nina?” He called in fear, worried that she'd done something stupid, “Nina, you in the bathroom?”
When no reply came he jumped out of bed, flinging open the bathroom door to find the room empty. Scared for her safety, he ran out of the bedroom, opening his haki to search for her. He felt her on the opposite side of the ship, in the deck held between the jaws of the skull that decorated the front of the ship. He ran full speed to her, jumping to skip the sets of stairs that led to the stern castle, his heart racing faster than he thought it could. Only once before had his heart beat so hard, when Kid had laid lifeless on the battlefield after losing his arm, Killer not knowing if he was alive or dead.
He came to a sudden stop as he finally reached her, calling for her between heavy breaths. She turned, startled, brows raised in surprise. “Kil?” She asked, “everything okay?”
“You, you weren't in bed,” he huffed between breaths, “I thought- I thought something was wrong.”
Nina lowered the mug she was holding in both hands, using the heat from the drink inside to warm her hands against the cold morning breeze. It was early, the sun barely risen over the horizon, the sky tinted with greens and deep blues. A blanket was wrapped loosely around her shoulders, hanging over her stolen shirt that hung loosely from her frame, property of Killer, and old sweatpants from when he was thinner, though she still had to tie them as tight as they could go. “I was watching the sunrise,” Nina explained, confused as to why he was so flustered, his chest heaving still, “sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”
“You're… feeling okay?” Killer asked, eyeing the drink in her hands, wondering if there was some trick to this. She noticed the subtle tilt of his mask and followed his line of sight.
“It's just tea,” Nina explained, “I don't think I made it right though, there's so many bits in it. My head was feeling clear, so I thought I'd get some fresh air before everyone woke up. Still have a headache a little, but I think I'm okay.”
“Bits?” Killer mumbled. He didn't think they had loose leaf tea on the ship. Unless…”Nina, did you open the tea bag?”
“Yes?” She replied, furrowing her brows. Killer snorted, grabbing the railing for support as he accidentally let out a genuine, unsupressed laugh. “What? Are you laughing at me? I didn't even know you laughed.”
“I don't,” Killer wheezed, “but that's, fuck, you said you were bad at cooking but who the fuck can't manage tea?”
Nina lightened up at Killer's laughter and let herself giggle, pouring the tea out over the railing next to where Killer was trying to rein himself in. With one last deep inhale he contained himself, standing straight and looking at her next to him. She was smiling back up at him, and he realised suddenly that there was no mockery in her expression. She'd heard his real laugh, and hadn't given any inclination that she disliked it. He turned to her, standing tall, before reaching back to the latch on his mask and releasing it. She made a soft gasp as he pulled it off his head, his bangs falling into place over his icy blue eyes, his lips stained with the remnants of purple lipstick, his cheekbones sharp and defined. She barely had time to take him in before he pulled her by her nape and cover her lips with his.
She made a confused whine, before closing her eyes and pressing back against him, letting the blanket on her shoulders fall to the deck as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and wove her hand through his long hair. He only kissed her for a moment before realising how crazy this was and pulling away. “Fuck, sorry,” he said bashfully as he stepped back. Nina's arms followed him, falling to rest against his chest. He looked out at the ocean, feeling self conscious and embarrassed for letting himself be so undisciplined.
“Don't be,” she replied softly, running a hand up his neck to cup his face. He hesitated to look at her, until her thumb ran over his lips. “So pretty,” she whispered, mostly to herself. He looked at her then, saw how her eyes glittered with genuine awe and affection, and he felt his heart swell. A breeze ran through the ship and she shivered, distracted for a moment from absorbing every facet of his face.
“You're cold,” he stated, rubbing her bare arm with his free hand to try and give her some warmth. She murmured in agreement but never looked away from him. “Come on,” he said as he put his mask back on, “let's go back to bed and get you warmed up.”
She let him take her hand and lead her, the two of them moving silently save for their footsteps, an unexpected electricity running through them where their fingers threaded together. Both of their hearts were racing at the unspoken promise of what waited for them back in the bedroom. Nina was nervous though, she'd never slept with a man in a intimate way, she'd only ever done it for money when things were desperate. None of those experiences had been pleasant for her, and she didn't know if she even wanted this. She wanted him though, that much she knew for certain, so maybe it would be different this time.
The door shut behind her and latched, and she felt herself starting to panic. Killer approached her from behind, letting his mask fall to the floor, but paused as he heard her quickening breath. “You okay?” He asked softly, “we don't have to do anything, you know. We can just lay under the blankets, get warm, talk if you want to.”
“Sorry, I'm fine,” Nina lied.
“You're not,” Killer sighed, seeing right through her facade, “It's okay, I know my laugh, my smile, they're not pleasant. You don't have to force yourself.”
Nina's breath hitched and she spun to face him, taking his face in her hands, her own discomfort forgotten for his. “It's not you, Kil, I promise, okay?” She soothed, running her thumbs over his cheeks. She took a deep breath and tried to be brave, not wanting Killer to be hurt by her own insecurities, “It's just. I've only ever slept with men for money.”
“Oh,” Killer replied quietly. He covered her hands with her own, closing his eyes for a moment as he pressed harder against her soft palms, “We don't have to do anything. We can take our time. It'd be different though, I'd be gentle with you. I want to be gentle with you.”
“You have me,” he replied before pressing his lips to hers again, “all of me, if that's what you want.”
Nina kissed him hard, giving him her answer, and he replied in equal fervour. He walked her backwards to the bed as their hands tangled in each other's hair. He groaned as she gave his hair a tug, and she took the opportunity to plunge her tongue into his mouth. Kissing him felt good, and she found herself pressing hard against his body, whining as his erection pressed against her stomach. She let herself fall backwards, pulling him with her, their mouths still connected.
Nina tugged on his shirt, and they broke the kiss so she could pull it over his head, quickly followed by him removing her shirt. She giggled in anticipation before his lips captured hers again, the giggle turning to a moan as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, taking handfuls of her small breasts and rolling her nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers as his mouth made a trail down her front to them. Her whole body felt sensitive as he took a tit in his mouth, laving it with his tongue and flicking the pert bud with the tip. Her back arched off the bed as he kissed further down, his knees falling to rest on the floor as his lips worshipped her belly.
He looked up at her with puppy dog eyes, seeking wordless permission as his fingers tugged at the waistband to her borrowed pants. Nina bit her lip and nodded. She'd never even had a man go down on her and was eager to feel his mouth on her cunt. She raised her ass for him and he removed her pants and underwear, returning his mouth to her tummy and continuing his journey downwards. He nosed at her pink pubes as she spread her legs for him, and he pulled her thighs to rest on his shoulders, kissing each inner thigh before pressing his nose to her core and inhaling her scent. He groaned before finally bringing his tongue out to meet her, making her let out a long deep moan as he ran the wet muscle between her folds.
It wasn't often Killer got to eat pussy, in fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd done it with a woman watching him. Her eyes were squarely focused on him as he began to eat her out, his eyes locked with hers as he rolled his tongue over her clit with practiced precision. She gave in and let herself fall back against the bed, weaving a hand through his hair and letting herself relax as he worked, melting into the mattress at the feeling of his mouth on her pussy. She'd never let herself feel her pleasure with a man, it'd always been so strictly transactional, no man had ever even considered her pleasure, but Killer was drunk on it. He made satisfied groans as he ate her out, squeezing her thighs to hold her in place as she bucked and moaned, the vibrations of his pleased sounds adding to her pleasure. He released one thigh to bring one hand up under his chin, running the tip of his index finger around her entrance before sinking it into her pussy.
“Oh fuck~” Nina groaned, legs shaking as she came suddenly at the intrusion, “Kil~”
Killer grinned and kissed her pussy tenderly before climbing up her body. She shuffled backwards to make space and he straddled over her, watching her face intently as he sunk two fingers inside her. She whined and gripped the arm that was keeping him supported hovering above her. Her other hand ran over his chest, enjoying the tight muscles and curves, before it ran further down and under the waistband of his pants. He grunted as she wrapped her hand around his cock and began to pump him, matching the pace he was using on her. He added a third finger to her and the two of them made sloppy, desperate kisses as they jerked each other off.
“Kil,” Nina panted, “want you, please.”
Killer groaned and was quick to comply. As much as he hated to admit it, his dreams had been haunted by Nina ever since she'd woken him up that morning. With the added unexpected emotions on top, he was desperate to sink inside her, but he didn't want to pressure her. Hearing her beg for him had him ready to cum right there and then. “You sure?” He queried.
“I'm sure,” she confirmed huskily. He stripped his pants quickly and settled himself between her legs, taking himself in his hand. “Wait,” she pressed a hand to his chest, “can I… can I do it?”
Killer understood that she was nervous for a good reason, this position no doubt reminded her of some unsavory memories. He grabbed her hips and rolled both of them so she was on top, straddling him. She made a surprised gasp as they rolled, sitting up to sit over his cock as they stilled. She gave an experimental roll, grinding her cunt against his shaft, making them both whine at the friction. She reached between her legs and stroked him a few times before lining him up with her entrance. He was big, and she worried he wouldn't even fit, so she sank down slowly. Her body was more than willing though, more aroused than she'd ever been with a man and well prepared by him, so she was able to take all of him, whimpering as her thighs met his pelvis. She stayed still there for a moment, eyes closed in concentration as she took in how full she was and how good it felt.
Killer was meanwhile using all his willpower to not immediately thrust up into her, overwhelmed by how hot and wet she was sitting atop him, his cock entirely disappeared inside her. He gripped her thighs and groaned impatiently, desperate for her to move before his resolve could snap. Finally she opened her eyes again, suddenly feeling powerful as she looked down at the strong man underneath her. She rolled her hips with purpose, mouth falling open and moans spilling from her lips as she rode him, experimenting with a few different motions and hip angles before she found the one that felt the best for her.
“There you go,” Killer praised as his fingertips sunk into her thighs, “just like that, princess.”
Her moans synchronized with his grunts as she rolled her hips, Killer immensely turned on as he watched the way Nina took back her power and used him for her pleasure. Her hands ran over his chest, playing with his nipples and groping his pecks, before she leaned down and kissed him hard. “Kil,” she groaned, her energy fading, “fuck me, please.”
Killer planted his feet and thrust up into her, making her scream and bury her face against his shoulder. He gripped her ass and held her steady above him as he fucked up into her, her pussy making wet squelches as she whined against his neck, hot breath making his skin damp. She tangled her hands through his hair and pulled hard for support as her body was jostled, moaning directly in his ear, making it hard for Killer to not immediately cum. “Kil,” she huffed, “feels good, so close~”
“Cum for me, princess,” Killer groaned, “fuck, cum on my cock, please, I need it.”
“Ah, ah, cumming~” Nina cried, her cunt clamping down around Killer. He whined as he kept pumping her, trying to work her entirely through it, before pulling out and jerking himself off over his own stomach.
“Fuck,” he grunted as Nina collapsed against him, the two of them a panting mess as cum and sweat transferred between their bodies, Nina still twitching occasionally in her afterglow. She kissed his cheek tenderly as she came back to earth before he turned his face to meet her, the two of them sharing a intimate, gentle kiss, his hand running through her overgrown hair that was usually shaved short.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she nuzzled in to the crook of his neck, “for taking care of me, for being there. For trusting me with with your face.”
“Thank you for trusting me as well,” Killer kissed the side of her head, holding her tight to him, “the hard part is over, you're gonna be okay now.”
