#getting sicker and sicker until i was too weak to eat or breathe anymore. and how Im posing in a HOOP IN THE AIR

[utterhomestucktrash]

ny questions: 23!

But SERIOUSLY this has been a really important year for me - I started living on my own, I started dating again, I repaired a lot of relationships I had long abandoned, I started LEAVING THE HOUSE 🗣️ ! And at every cusp I was terrified it would only result in my life getting worse, another breakdown, another tragedy - and I won't lie there have been some painful setbacks but at the end of the day I would let my 2024 self know 'You are strong enough for this - you have enough in you to not Just Survive anymore' or something cheesy like that hehe

New Years Asks Here ! 🎉🎉

[joodlepo]

Take Care Of Me / Lee Felix Smut (18+)

Summary / Felix has been very sick for the past week, and you've been helping him get better. He's finally starting to look a little more like himself again, but unfortunately he still feels pretty weak. So, you decide it might be time for some physical therapy in the bathroom...and your patient is definitely up for that!

Pairings / (Top) Lee Felix + (F) Reader

Word Count / 4.0k

Warnings / Sick Felix, Bath Sex, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Rough Sex

A string of coughs left Felix's throat, and he leaned backwards to rest his head against the bedroom wall. A dull ache throbbed in his chest when he tried to breathe deeply, but it didn't seem like anything serious—just another symptom that would soon fade away on it's own. The pain was a little bit more than usual; maybe he had caught something from one of the staff at work? He couldn't remember having been exposed to any new germs lately...

Felix sighed as he let himself sink deeper into darkness again, allowing the warm embrace of unconsciousness to take him over completely once more. It felt nice, not being able to think anymore for a while.

"Oh Felix!" You called out loudly through the bedroom door, causing him to jerk awake with an irritated groan. "I made you a bowl soup! I hope you're hungry~"

Your voice sounded cheerful enough, despite your ongoing concern about his health. Opening the door slowly, you peeked inside before stepping into the room, carrying two bowls of steaming broth between both hands. They were filled with thick white liquid and covered by thin slices of meaty vegetables floating within them. As expected, they smelled delicious too.

Your eyes widened slightly when they fell upon the sight of him lying sprawled across the floor in nothing but his boxers. His skin was pale and clammy, making him look even sicker than normal.

But, there wasn't much time to worry about how bad he looked right now. All that mattered was getting some food down his stomach and getting him back into bed. That way, hopefully he'd start recovering quickly, without wasting any precious energy fighting off whatever illness he might have picked up.

You hurriedly placed the bowls onto the desk beside the bed before rushing over to help him sit upright. Felix's eyelids fluttered open weakly, revealing bloodshot eyes behind their dark circles.

There weren't many traces of sleep remaining in those orbs.

"Ah," Felix croaked quietly, clutching hold of the edge of the mattress with trembling fingers. "Thanks..."

"Don't mention it." You smiled softly, reaching forward to press a kiss against his forehead. "Here, eat this first and it's back to bed for you!"

Felix obediently lifted his hand to accept the spoonful of broth offered by you, taking small sips, until it was all gone. Once the first bowl had been emptied, you handed him another, which he greedily devoured within a few gulps.

"How are you feeling?" You asked gently. "Can I get you anything else? Should we call someone or go see a doctor?"

"No need for that," Felix shook his head, smiling faintly. "It'll pass eventually. Just give me a moment."

His words were reassuring, and you nodded. Even though he seemed weaker today compared to yesterday, you still knew he'd be okay. At least, that's what you hoped for. After finishing off the second bowl of soup, Felix layed back down on the bed, breathing heavily as if struggling to stay conscious.

He coughed several times before speaking again, looking exhausted beyond belief.

"Thanks for bringing these," he murmured drowsily. "They really hit the spot."

"Of course, Lixie." You smiled, leaning closer to place another soft peck atop his cheek. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

Felix gave you a tired nod, closing his eyes and sinking into peaceful slumber. With a smile, you stepped back from the bedside and turned around to leave. Then, just as you reached the doorway…

"W-Wait." Felix spoke quietly, his accent thick with exhaustion. "Do you mind staying here tonight?"

The request came out of nowhere, leaving you startled for a brief moment before responding with a hesitant, "Uh... r-really?"

"Yeah. That'd make things easier," he said simply. "My body feels heavy... I can barely keep my eyes open."

With a deep breath, you once again approached the side of his bed and sat next to him, watching him carefully as he took shallow breaths. He seemed awfully vulnerable lying down there like that.

"Are you sure?" You whispered worriedly.

"Mhm." He replied firmly, reaching out to squeeze your hand lightly. "Please don't leave."

A lump formed in your throat at the sound of his plea.

You couldn't deny how terrible he looked, especially considering how long he hadn't eaten properly. And yet, you also knew he wouldn't ask unless he truly needed you to stay. So, instead of arguing further, you merely nodded silently, squeezing his hand tightly in return.

"Okay then," you murmured softly, gazing down at him with loving eyes.

Hours passed by in silence as you remained seated beside him, holding his hand in yours and stroking his hair occasionally.

The gentle rhythm of his slow, steady breathing lulled you into a pleasant trance, allowing you to forget everything else for a while. Although, you just couldn't sleep. Not because you didn't want to, but rather due to the fact that you eagerly wanted to keep checking on your boyfriend's condition every few minutes.

In return, this only served to prolong the night and drive away any chance of restfulness.

You rose from the chair about twenty minutes later, and began tidying up his room, setting aside his clothes and washing away the stains left behind by his sickness. Afterward, you went ahead and prepared a hot bath for him; something you figured would do him good, given how badly he must've felt otherwise.

"Felix, wake up." You called out softly, rousing him from his slumber.

For a moment, he didn't respond, continuing to lie there with his eyes closed and chest rising gently in short breaths. Eventually though, he opened them, squinting at first before blinking rapidly several times until they finally focused properly once more.

"S-Sorry... I guess fell asleep for a while..." He mumbled sheepishly. "I'm sorry if it's bothering you."

"Don't worry about it," You assured him. "Anyway, I drew a bath for you. It should be ready soon."

As you explained, Felix let out a relieved sigh before sitting upright on the bed, letting you help him get out of it. As he stood, he winced slightly, placing a hand against his stomach, where it throbbed painfully.

"Is your tummy hurting?" You frowned concernedly. "Should I prepare some medicine or something? I have plenty of painkillers around here..."

"Nah, I'll be fine," Felix waved dismissively. "It just hurts a bit still is all... But, thanks anyway."

He gave an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing the back of his head shyly as he began to walk towards the bathroom. You followed closely behind him, pausing briefly when you reach the doorway.

Even so, you stepped inside the steamy room after him nonetheless, taking off your shoes and pulled up your sleeves.

Then, you helped him step into the tub, lowering himself slowly into the steaming water. His face was flushed red from the heat, causing him to appear even paler than usual. Felix's skin looked dry and rough, almost scaly in places, which made you frown deeply.

"How does that feel?" You asked anxiously, glancing over at him curiously. "The water, I mean..."

Felix turned around, giving you a small smile as he reached out and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"Better now." He chuckled. "Thanks again."

Once he seemed to settle in comfortably, you returned to the entrance of the bathroom and waited patiently for him to finish bathing. A light blush covered your cheeks when his bare back came into view through the glass door, making it hard not to stare openly.

It wasn't like there were many other things worth looking at here anyway; just some towels on hooks along with a few bottles of shampoo and soap sitting on top of one another by the sink. The sight of his toned muscles flexing beneath the clear liquid caused your heart to skip a beat, eliciting a soft moan.

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Felix blinked innocently, looking somewhat confused at your sudden reaction.

"Nothing!" You blushed harder, trying desperately to hide your embarrassment. "Just uh, surprised is all..."

The corner of Felix's mouth twitched upwards as he glanced at you, smirking ever so slightly. He chuckled softly before turning around again, letting out a deep sigh. His shoulders shook lightly under the water while his head tilted back briefly against the wall behind him. Sounds were muffled but still audible enough for you to hear over the of warm water caressing every nook and cranny of his body.

The moment felt strangely intimate, watching this man who had become such an integral part of your life bathe himself... even if he did look rather silly doing it.

"Damnit... I can't reach right there," Felix muttered, shifting uncomfortably under the hot spray that splashed onto his face. "Y/N? Do you mind coming back inside?"

You nodded silently, carefully opening the door once more and stepping into the bathroom. As soon as you closed the glass partition between both rooms, however, Felix spun around quickly. Your eyes widened when you saw his cock standing fully erect now, droplets of water clinging to its tip as they rolled down towards his balls.

Felix looked at you with a questioning gaze before looking away again in embarrassment – only making things worse by letting out another soft groan. You gulped audibly, not knowing how to react or what to do next; all thoughts leaving your head as you stared wide-eyed at him from across the small bathroom.

"Uhm, should I even ask? Or are we just going to stare awkwardly until one of us gets uncomfortable?" You finally managed to mutter after taking a deep breath, averting your gaze slightly so you wouldn't be tempted to keep staring at him.

"Sorry..." He mumbled softly, blushing darkly as he gently pushed his thighs together to hide his erection behind them. "I didn't mean to get hard, honest. It's just... well, my dick is sensitive sometimes."

Your brows furrowed worriedly while you watched him try to cover up his obvious arousal. His words sounded sincere though, which made you feel somewhat better about the situation. Still, something told you that you shouldn't press too much on the matter since he seemed quite embarrassed already.

"... Alrighty then," You sighed lightly, trying to push aside your lingering anxiety. "If you want me to leave, I'll go."

Felix shook his head slowly. "...No, please stay. You don't have to touch it or anything werid like that. I just can't reach my back properly without help, alright?"

His voice was laced with nervousness, but you couldn't deny feeling rather curious. That same curiosity won out in the end, however, because you decided to sit yourself down on a stool placed nearby. Rolling up your sleeves again, you scoot towards the edge of the tub where Felix could easily see you. After getting comfortable, you leaned forward slightly and reached towards his lower back.

"Here goes nothing..." You murmured quietly, gently rubbing soap onto your fingers and beginning to work through the lather. A faint moan escaped Felix' lips at your gentle ministrations, causing you to blush lightly as he shifted underneath you.

"Mmm~?" Felix hummed quietly, tilting his head slightly to the side and smiling bashfully. "That tickles..."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

He gave a sheepish grin in response. "Not really, no. Just feels good, actually."

You smiled fondly at him, leaning even closer to start working on his shoulders. The muscles were firm beneath your hands, yet surprisingly flexible considering their size. You worked your way downwards, careful to avoid touching his hips due to how slippery they'd gotten from the hot bath. Felix let out a quiet sigh when you began scrubbing the rest of his upper back, rivulets of sweat forming along his spine.

"There we go~" You cooed, washing off the last traces of soap with some more water. "All clean!"

"Thanks," Felix said gratefully, rolling onto his front as he sat upright again.

His chest glimmered faintly in the dim lighting provided by the overhead light above, and the same erection you first noticed earlier peeked out from the gap between his legs.

You swallowed thickly, unable to tear your gaze away from his crotch. Felix smirked shyly, giving you an innocent smile. "So uhm... how exactly do you wash someone else's back anyway? I've never done it myself, but I've always wondered."

"Oh, well..." You trailed off, realizing you weren't sure how to respond to that question.

You could barely focus on talking normally anymore, though. All your attention was focused solely on the sight of his stiff shaft poking out from below him, coated in clear precum. You tried to avert your gaze, but it wasn't easy. Every time you looked over at him, you found yourself being drawn back towards those long, toned limbs of his. And each time you did look at him, you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Hahaha... Sorry for asking such a weird thing." Felix giggled nervously, clearly aware of your growing attraction to him. "I guess I'm trying to lighten the mood here."

"Ah, um..." You stuttered, struggling to find any kind of coherent thought amidst the haze clouding your mind. "N-No, it's fine! I'm actually pretty distracted right now, so... yeah. Lightening the mood sounds nice."

Felix nodded happily, resting his chin against the edge of the tub and grinning brightly. God, this guy had such a cute face, you found yourself thinking idly. One you wanted to kiss very badly, if given half the chance.

"Do you... wanna touch it?" Felix asked suddenly, making you blink in surprise before you realized what he meant. "Just, not directly. Not unless you're okay with that, of course. If you aren't, I understand."

The sudden shift in topic caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your eyes widened, staring intently into Felix' own lustful gaze. You gulped rather heavily, shivering under the weight of his intense stare. It took everything within you not to give in to your desires, but after several seconds passed, you managed to form a reply.

"Y-Yes, I would love to touch it." You whispered huskily, swallowing hard.

A broad smile spread across Felix' features, and he quickly moved past the awkwardness. He moved back against the wall behind him, stretching one leg outwards while keeping himself balanced atop the other knee. This left his groin completely exposed to you, and made it much easier to get close enough to touch.

"Then come here." Felix commanded, gesturing with a hand. "And put your hands on me."

Your cheeks burned red, but you didn't hesitate to comply. Once again, you scooted the chair much closer to where Felix sat, letting him guide you through whatever motions were required for you to reach him.

The moment you got within range, however, you paused, unsure of whether or not you should continue. Felix saw your hesitation, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Go ahead, I don't mind. Just be gentle with my cock; I'm still sick, remember?"

"...Right." You mumbled softly, slowly reaching forward.

Despite all your worries, once you touched him, it became immediately obvious why he'd been aroused like this. His skin was smooth, almost silky in nature. Even just brushing up against it sent pleasant tingles shooting down your spine. His dick stood straight up from his body, its length slightly thicker than average - probably due to the fact that it hadn't fully recovered yet.

You reached out hesitantly, gently cupping his length with both hands. It twitched under your touch, eliciting another soft moan from Felix. He leaned back further, allowing you better access to his shaft. As you began stroking it, you couldn't help but notice the faint scent of sweat mixed with a hint of musk. It wasn't unpleasant, really. In fact, it was rather arousing.

But, when combined with the smell of his own arousal, it somehow made it even harder to keep your thoughts together.

"Mnh..." Felix grunted lowly, leaning his head back against the bathtub. "That feels good... Keep doing that."

You hummed in response, continuing to stroke him as best you could. It only took a few more moments before his breathing grew heavier, and his hips bucked involuntarily. You stopped briefly, surprised by how fast things had progressed.

However, Felix simply grinned playfully at you, prompting you to resume stroking him. After several more minutes, you noticed his cock begin to twitch, signaling the onset of climax.

"A-Are you close?" You gasped, unable to hide your nervousness.

"Yeah, I think so..." Felix panted breathlessly, giving you a wink. "But hold off until then, alright? I want you to do something else for me first."

"O-Okay..." You breathed, nodding. "What is it?"

Felix' grin turned predatory, and you knew exactly what he meant. With that realization came a flood of conflicting emotions: excitement mingled with apprehension. But, you soon pushed those feelings aside. After all, this was about pleasure - yours and Felix'.

So, without further hesitation, you began strip naked, baring every inch of your gorgeous skin for him to see. As you did so, Felix watched silently, seemingly entranced by your actions. When you finished undressing, he smirked at the sight of your nude body before speaking again.

"Are you planning to ride me?" Felix teased lightly, causing you to blush deeply.

"I-If that's what you want," You replied nervously, averting your gaze. "Or... we can just cuddle or something. That works too, right?"

"Whatever makes you happy is fine with me." Felix said cheerfully. "In fact, either way will work just fine."

With that, Felix grabbed your waist roughly, pulling you onto his lap. The water splashed loudly around you both, adding to the already tense atmosphere. For a second, neither of you spoke. Instead, you merely stared into each other's eyes, sharing a brief kiss. When you finally pulled away, you had decided to lower your thighs, allowing Felix to slide himself into place between your spread knees. The tip of his dick prodded delicately against your entrance, teasing you with its presence before slipping inside.

A moment later, the head popped past your innermost ring, causing both of you to gasp audibly.

"H-How does it feel?" Felix whispered breathlessly, gripping tightly onto your shoulders. "Does it hurt too much? Are you still okay with going through with this?"

"It doesn't hurt," You replied honestly, reaching forward and grasping hold of one of his hands. "And yes, I'm fine with continuing. Just take your time, alright?"

"Mmhmm~" Felix hummed contentedly as he continued to thrust slowly within you. "Tell me if you need to stop though, all right?"

Your heart swelled warmly at his concern, knowing that he cared about you enough to worry whether or not you would enjoy having sex with him. Even more so, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper into the throes of lustful pleasure as his shaft moved ever-so-slightly inside of you. Every inch of him felt wonderful; every twitch and throb sent shockwaves of bliss coursing throughout your entire body.

Overcome by the overwhelming sensations, you gripped tighter onto his hand and tilted your head back, moaning softly as you gazed upon the ceiling. You tried to keep your moans quiet, wanting to make sure that no one heard you, but soon gave up on that notion, releasing a throaty cry of ecstasy.

"Shit! Ngh, fuck! F-Faster, Felix! Please, fuck me faster!" You begged desperately, shuddering each time he slammed deep inside of you. "Oh god... fuck!"

A low chuckle rumbled out of Felix' throat, sending shivers running down your spine. "Like this?"

The pace of his thrusts grew even quicker, eliciting another pleasurable squeal from you as he buried himself completely within your pussy. His cock pulsated rapidly against the walls of your vagina, stimulating you just as much as it did him. And yet, despite how good it was feeling, you wanted more – needed something else to come along and drive you insane.

"More," You whimpered urgently, glancing sideways at him. "Please..."

Without giving him a chance to respond, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and tugged on him roughly. As expected, he responded eagerly, pushing himself harder and faster than ever before. It seems the adrenaline rush had taken away his sickly pallor, because now, he looked positively manic.

In fact, if not for all those dark bags under his eyes, he might have been mistaken for an entirely different person altogether.

A man who'd lost control over his body's needs; a madman driven by lust alone. He pounded into you with reckless abandon, going so far beyond what anyone would consider normal that it made you wonder whether or not there were any limits left after such a performance.

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Oh god, yessss! Yes, like that! Harder! Faster! More!" You cried out loudly in response to every single one of his thrusts, unable to keep up with his frantic pace no matter how hard you tried.

The bathroom tub beneath you began to shake violently, splashing water everywhere, but you didn't care about anything other than being fucked senseless right then and there. Not only could you feel yourself getting closer to climax, but also Felix seemed to be reaching some kind of fever pitch too. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, driving deeper than ever before without pause, causing both of you to cry out in surprise.

Then came the moment when everything changed.

Your orgasm hit first, exploding through your entire body almost instantly upon Felix' final stroke. A long line of curses spilled from your lips as pleasure tore through you like wildfire, leaving nothing behind but a lingering warmth where once there had been pure bliss.

"Felix!" You gasped harshly, struggling to catch your breath between moans. "I'm cumming again!"

His own voice sounded strained, raw and deep, which only served to fuel the fire burning inside of you further. "Yeah? Is my good girl ready for her reward?"

You couldn't answer, nor could you do anything besides moan back weakly at his question. But somehow, he understood anyway, and that knowledge sent a thrill shooting straight through you.

"Yeah! Fill me up with it!" You cried desperately into his ear. "Cum all over me!"

He was quick to comply, slamming himself hard against you one last time before burying his face in your neck.

Felix grunted loudly as another wave crashed down on him, this one more powerful than any previous. The hot liquid poured forth onto your breasts, coating them entirely while simultaneously dripping down your stomach until even your thighs were drenched. It wasn't just your pussy either; every inch of skin was coated by the sticky fluid. After he pulled away, the feeling lingered, making your legs tremble slightly.

Eventually, you slumped down heavily onto his chest, exhausted beyond belief. Both of you lay there panting together, letting your bodies recover before moving anywhere else. Although, curiosity got the better of you and you leaned up enough to look him.

"H-how are you feeling?" Felix asked nervously as he looked back at you with wide eyes. You smiled weakly in response but didn't answer right away.

"Tired," You mumbled sleepily. "Very tired."

He chuckled lightly, another string of coughs racking his frame.

After several minutes of rest, however, he finally managed to straighten up and sit upright. With some difficulty, he pulled himself out of your wet folds and slid off the rim of the tub, leaning against the shower curtain rail to catch his breath.

"I'm really sorry. You'll probably get sick too after what we've done here," he said apologetically, gazing at the water droplets dripping from his hair.

You giggled weakly, trying to ignore the fact that you could barely walk. "Don't be silly, Lixie! I don't mind getting ill at all."

His cheeks turned pink when you called him by his nickname, the freckles across his nose standing out sharply under the fluorescent lighting. Well, they weren't really 'pink', per se, but rather an odd shade of redder than usual. In either case, you couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight.

[wildyonderwillows]

In My Company

Relationship: Billy Butcher x Reader Word Count: 3.9k+ Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of abuse Summary: Hiding from your past was something you got away with for years, that was until a vengeful Billy Butcher forced himself into your life. You struck a deal with the man, given it was either that or he ended your life, your pick. The deal entails taking down your family, something you weren't quite sure you could do. You were left with the ultimatum of choosing the life you once left behind for a new one with Butcher, who showed you what actual love was like. Which do you pick? The choice was yours, regardless of what you choose, both would have their own set of consequences.

Read the full first chapter of the fic here on my new archive!

The hospital monitor beeped a slow, steady rhythm. Mocking was what it was. Mocking what was left of the precious heart Butcher had loved for years. Mocking what was left of Becca’s life, which wasn’t much, according to the doctors but when have they ever known everything? They didn’t know she had fucking cancer eating heralive for the past two years until it was too late. They had no treatments for her. They didn’t know how to save her. They only knew when she was going to die. 

Four months was the diagnosis, but the reality was two. Two months of trying to make the most of it with Becca. Two months of repeatedly listening to the Spice Girls so much that Butcher was convinced he memorized every song, even when Becca would call him out for getting the lyrics wrong as he’d sing them to her right before she fell asleep every night. He always hated when she would sleep, even though she was always so tired, he was just afraid she’d never wake up again. Now part of him wished she died in her sleep, in their bed they shared together for years, in his arms where she was comfortable. He didn’t want her to go like this: hooked up to machines in a dull hospital room. It wasn’t right, none of this was.

“Hey,” Becca’s weak voice caught Butcher’s attention, taking him out of his thoughts as he locked eyes with her. She looked so tired, like she hadn’t slept in days, weeks even. “I’ll be alright.” Butcher wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe she was going to a good place, somewhere filled with angels, Jesus, God, all that good stuff, but he had very little faith now.

He kissed the hand he was holding, not wiping away the tear that slipped down his cheek. He wondered if he had paid attention sooner he would’ve noticed her getting sicker. Maybe all of this was his fault.

“I love you.” Butcher told her that statement every day but this time it felt different. Maybe it was because he knew it may be the last time he ever said it to her and he wanted her to go where she was going knowing he loved her. “I-I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Becca mustered up a small smile and it pained him to see how much it took of her strength for her to do something so casual. “I’ll still be with you, always.” He wanted to correct her and tell her she was wrong because she wouldn’t be here, not physically at least. “I love you so much Billy. It’ll be okay.” Butcher shook his head at her words, more tears falling from his eyes. 

How could everything be okay without her? Becca is his whole life. He didn’t want to let her go. Not now, not ever.

“I’ll be okay.” Becca reassured and he knew she wasn’t reassuring herself anymore. She had accepted her fate right from the start but Butcher didn’t. He didn’t care how crazy he looked yelling and threatening doctors, he didn’t want his wife to die. “You’ll be okay.” Butcher nodded in agreement but again, he didn’t believe her. “Promise me Billy. Promise me that you’ll be okay.”

Butcher took a shaky breath, his chest feeling tighter each time he sucked in air. “I promise.”

[haunted-by-catholic-guilt]

I Can Feel Ghosts and Ghouls Wrapping My Head

He couldn’t breathe, he felt the air get trapped in his throat, and he was faintly aware of tears behind his eyes.

His lungs were being crushed by the weight of everything, and he knew he definitely should not be binding but he also wasn’t exactly willing to be exposed like that, especially in the archives, if he was honest with himself he’d been wearing it way too long at a time already and may or may not have fallen asleep in it a few times.

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TW UNSAFE BINDING, PANIC ATTACKS, AND SELF HATE

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When he heard the coughing from the office next door that morning, he felt his heart freeze.

Not only out of worry for Tim, who really did not sound well, but out of, well, fear.

Martin was scared.

He couldn’t get sick, but he also needed to take care of his coworker, his friend.

So he did.

After Tim finally went home, Martin was exhausted, having not slept well the night before or any night in a while, if he was honest, and then trying to take care of everyone, he was plain tired.

Sleeping at the archives wasn’t the easiest thing.

It was cold and eerily quiet, and if he was still enough he swore he could hear the knocking on the door still.

But when he woke up the next morning and felt a small tickle at the back of his throat, he felt his heart hammer in his chest and the muscles in his back seize.

He brushed it off, must have slept weird or dust, or something.

Anything except getting sick.

He made tea, and stayed away from Sasha and Jon that day, better safe than sorry.

The day passed on slowly, and by the time it was done, he was about ready to pass out where he stood. 

He went through the repeated, dull motions of the evening, the microwaved noodles were tasteless, and he could hardly eat half of it before he tossed it into

the trash and went to bed, despite the early hour.

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It was around noon the next day that it all started to go downhill.

Tim was back, and seemed more or less recovered, a little tired, and seemed like he was still somewhat stuffy, but didn’t seem too miserable.

Martin, however, was miserable.

He couldn’t breathe, he felt the air get trapped in his throat, and he was faintly aware of tears behind his eyes.

His lungs were being crushed by the weight of everything, and he knew he definitely should not be binding but he also wasn’t exactly willing to be exposed like that, especially in the archives, if he was honest with himself he’d been wearing it way too long at a time already and may or may not have fallen asleep in it a few times.

The next thing he knew he was shaking, and he could feel tears in his eyes, and he immediately pushed himself off his chair, not caring about the noise he was making, yet still caring about how the others saw him.

He made his way to the bathroom and as soon as the door to the stall shut, he collapsed to the ground, chest heaving with both sobs and pain and he felt his stomach begin to flip inside him.

He knew it was just a cold, that’s all Tim had, that’s not what was bothering him.

A panic attack.

Before he knew it he was heaving over the toilet because he couldn’t breathe and it was all too much, he felt the germs running through his body and-

There was a voice calling his name.

He couldn’t decipher who it was but they were calling his name and here he was, being weak and selfish, couldn’t even handle a little cold on his own.

They knocked on his stall and he was able to breathe and finally processed who it was.

Sasha.

Of course, it was Sasha, perfect, loving Sasha.

He cursed himself for his bitterness and cleared his throat.

“Y-yeah ‘m alright”

 He heard Sasha sigh from outside the stall, and she crouched to the floor outside of it.

“Martin, love, I know you aren’t, can you open the stall for me, sweetheart?”

He sobbed and curled into himself, trying so hard to get away from her, to let her go and enjoy herself.

She predictably did not. 

He heard someone else open the door to the bathroom, and heard Tim’s low-voice from outside of the stall, before Sasha stood up, but didn’t leave the bathroom, and Tim took her place outside on the other side of the door.

“Hey Marto, what’s wrong?”

Tim’s voice was still hoarse from his illness, and it managed to make Martin cry harder, and Tim sighed.

Disappointing everyone again.

God, you really aren’t a man.

“Martin, open this door.”

Tim was being firm yet he still was kind, and the tone of his voice made Martin feel safe, so he unlocked the stall door, and as soon as it opened he regretted it, seeing Tim and Sasha’s concerned faces were too much, and he felt his chest tighten more if even possible, and he swore that his vision began to darken.

He felt himself start to sway a little, before Tim’s strong hand gripped his shoulder and pulled the bigger man towards his chest and tried to force him to relax, but Martin couldn’t breathe and he was sure if he relaxed he’d only make it worse.

His sight was fading and he heard Tim and Sasha calling his name, voices full of worry but before he knew it, the world was dark.

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Tim was, understandably, freaked out.

Martin was pale and shaking against his chest, completely limp and his cheeks a bright red.

This must have been the same cold he had, but Tim wasn’t sure this was even a cold anymore. 

Sasha crouched next to Martin, her hand on his face, confirming what they both already knew.

“He’s burning up”

Tim hummed, as Sasha stood up to fill a small cup of water in the sink and wet a paper towel, before placing it on his forehead, and they waited until he woke up.

When he did, he was predictably disoriented, yet somehow still rejecting their help, his breath coming in a harsh wheeze.

“Martin, love, I need you to drink this alright?”

Sasha pressed the water to his lips, and he took small sips, but wasn’t able to take more than a few sips before he was taken by another coughing fit.

Tim winced at the sound of it, and propped Martin up more and rubbed his back until the fit subsided.

Martin was wearing his binder.

He sighed and looked at Sasha, who was also worriedly holding Martin up.

“I’m going to go grab one of his hoodies and some sweatpants, do you want to try and talk to him a little” 

He really hoped she was understanding what he was saying, and it seemed like she did, so he stood up and left the bathroom leaving Sasha alone with their sick friend.

“Hey Martin, you’re wearing your binder and that can’t be comfortable when you’re already so sick, Tim is grabbing your hoodie, can you take it off when he gets back?”

Martin was hardly processing what she was saying, she was sure of it, but he still vigorously shook his head when she said this, and curled even further into himself.

“Martin, please you’re making yourself sicker by wearing it, we will both leave the room when you change, but you need to take it off.”

He froze for a second but nodded, still holding himself so tightly that she was worried he’d hurt himself, when someone knocked on the door, but only as a warning as it opened before she could say anything.

It opened to reveal Jon, standing awkwardly in the frame, with a blanket, first-aid kit, and a glass of water.

“I- I brought these? Tim told me Martin was ill so I thought..”

He walked in and handed her the water and first aid kit before awkwardly wrapping the blanket around Martin’s shaking shoulders.

“Thank you, Jon, it’s very sweet of you.”

Jon nodded at the same time Tim was walking back in, Jon awkwardly backed out after telling them to take care of Martin.

“Alright, here Martin, when you’re done changing do you wanna come out and you can come back to mine for the night?”

Martin hesitated a bit but nodded, not having the energy to put up a fight.

“Alright, sounds good. Sasha, can you go get his things and we can go?”

Sasha nodded, and both she and Tim got up and left the bathroom, leaving Martin to change.

Martin was, truthfully, mortified by the whole ordeal, being so weak and sick, he was pathetic.

He sighed, he knew he needed to take off his binder but he wasn’t even sure if he could.

So he put on the oversized hoodie and sweatpants, not bothering to take off the binder before he took a second to try and breathe before leaving the bathroom to find Tim and Sasha waiting.

He nodded and held the bundle of clothing closer to his chest.

“Tim, it’s really alright, I can stay here, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Tim sighed and set his hand on Martin's shoulder.

“Martin, you’re never a bother and I doubt you want to stay here and honestly I don’t want you to, I know how cold it can get here.”

Martin nodded once and followed Sasha and Tim to the car, before huddling in the backseat.

He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake in a garage, looking up to see Sasha.

He stepped out of the car and tried to ignore the black that overtook his vision and how he wasn’t sure he even knew how to breathe.

Sasha seemed to notice and she wrapped a hand around his arm, and made sure he didn’t fall over as they made their way into Tim’s flat.

Sasha led him to the couch and honestly, he couldn’t be more excited, he could feel his lungs crack with every shallow breath and he very much needed to sit down.

Sasha’s cold hand pressed to his face and he was brought to awareness that someone was talking to him.

“Martin, are you with us?”

It broke Martin all over again and he wasn’t even sure why he was crying, but he did feel the couch sink and himself get pulled into someone’s chest as sobs ripped through him.

“Oh it’s alright love, you’re okay, don’t worry sweetheart, you’re going to be okay.”

She was rubbing his back and he knew he was caught.

Making everything more difficult for everyone again.

“Martin, you need to take off your binder.”

She sounded disappointed, not mad but just so done with him.

He hated it.

So he did what he did best, he apologized and apologized, begging for forgiveness.

“Martin, Martin, shh you have no reason to be apologizing you didn’t do anything love.”

Sasha was rubbing his back again, and calmly speaking in his ear.

He let her lead him into the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet, where after she left, he took off his hoodie and very carefully took off his binder and he felt himself sigh in relief as his ribs thanked him.

He really, really wished he could have kept it on.

He put his hoodie back on, praying that he would still be hidden enough, before opening the door, actively avoiding the mirror when he stood.

Sasha was outside of the door and he nodded, hoping she wouldn’t question him more, and they made their way back to the couch where he slipped the binder into the bag of his Sasha had grabbed.

Tim was waiting with tea and a pile of blankets, all ready for a cuddle party and what he had previously called ‘loving Martin hours.’

Martin sat in the corner, where Tim and Sasha then lightly bullied him into the middle and covered him in a blanket before sitting on either side of him.

“I- I don’t- I don’t deserve this.”

Tim made a noise of disagreement before lightly pulling Martin closer to him, hoping he could let himself relax.

“Come on, Martin, you’d do the same for us, in fact, you have, let us take care of you.”

A few minutes passed of Tim running his hands through Martin’s curls before he said anything.

“I-I don’t like getting sick. It’s just... it’s a fear I guess? When I- when I was a kid I always had to take care of everything and everyone and I didn’t have time to be sick.”

Tim stopped his repetitive motion, that was definitely the most he’d shared about his life and he was sure he screwed it up.

Making a mess again, you waste of space.

“It’s alright Martin, you don’t need to take care of everything anymore, let us take care of you.”

Martin nodded, he was tired and he was in pain, so he let himself be lulled to sleep by the comfort surrounding him.

[demon-slayer-imagines]

headcanons for giyuu zenitsu tanjirou and inosuke with a sick!so

Don’t worry, s/o will get better... eventually

Tanjiro

Tanjiro had younger siblings, so knowing how to take care of a sick person is SUPER easy for him.

Even though it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying. The boys dad was always ill, and lost him to an illness, no matter how hard him and his family tried to save him. Every time you get sick he worries it’s something deadly,

He may not be the best cook, but he’ll learn just to make you good soups and mushy food you’d be able to eat and keep down. He’ll often feed you so you don’t have to strain yourself.

He wants to make sure you get sunlight and air as much as possible. You’ll usually end up on his back, and he’ll just carry you around outside, letting you enjoy the fresh air around you.

At night, he rarely sleeps. After he fluffs your pillow and tucks you in, he tells you ‘good night’ but in reality that boy doesn’t sleep at all. He stays in the room watching over you to make sure you stay alright.

In the end, once your better Tanjiro is sick now because he worried over you so much that it made him sick in the process.

Zenitsu

YOUR SICK!? OH NO! OH KAMI!! PANIC AT THE DISCO, WHAT IN THE WORLD IS ZENITSU SUPPOSED TO DO!?

It takes a while for zenitsu to calm down and stop screaming ‘ DONT DIE ____!!! YOUR ALL I HAVE!! IF YOU LEAVE ME ILL HAVE TO DIE TOO!!” Which probably only made you sicker because of the stress....

Zenitsu has next to no clue about taking care of sick people. He’ll most likely go to tanjiro and ask for help cause he should know right?

He makes sure to go out and buy you tons of food, along with comfortable things you can rest on. He also makes sure to buy a lot of evil warding items just Incase.

Poor boy is so worried about you, he truly doesn’t want to lose you. He always by your side, crying over how fragile and weak you look.

If you ask, he’ll tell you all kinds of stories about him and gramps, while he plays with your hair or braids it.

He would honestly go out and try to find the best doctor there is to help you. He just wants you better as soon as possible.

Inosuke

Your sick? Pft, being sick is nothing. Get up and fight it! Your perfectly fine, a little sickness didn’t kill anyone! At least to inosuke’s knowledge.

Inosuke doesn’t really know how to deal when your sick. He can’t do anything or show off to you if your bed ridden

More than likely tanjiro will be taking care of you while Inosuke just sits in the room quietly watching or bursting in when his trainings done.

“ GET UP! FIGHT ME! YOUVE HAD ENOUGH REST!!” “ INOSUKE! QUIET DOWN!!”

At night he’ll lay beside you and stay quiet, listening to your breathing. If he hears a hitch or some kind of difference in it that it already was, he rushes off to get tanjiro.

He’s surprised when he’s just laying beside you, that you flip over and take him into your arms, holding on to him for dear life, makes him happy but worried.

Since you enjoy it so much, before he leaves he’ll give you nose kisses. Pressing his large boar nose against yours as you say ‘mwah’ since he can’t kiss you.

Inosuke will bring you anything you want. You want some bear hide? Already on it. You want a demons head? Got it! You just want some hot soup? He doesn’t know where to get that but he’ll figure it out somehow!

Giyuu

Giyuu isn’t a fan of having sick people around him. It hinders his work and your on his mind when he does leave.

He makes sure to leave you in the hands of Shinobu, he knows she’ll take good care of you after all.

Even so he still worries about you and gets distracted while away on missions.

When he’s back, he’ll sit in the room and look down at you, Seeing how weak you were hurt his heart and ushered for Shinobu to hurry up and make a cure.

“ I am, I am. Are you worried about ___that much?” “ no, it’s simply tiring for me to go on missions without them to back me up in fights.” Always some kind of excuse to hide his love

He’ll often bring you food when your sleeping, setting it beside you and leaving the room before you wake so you can eat in peace.

If you can go outside, the two of you will sit beside the koi ponds and bask in the sun while watching the fish swim about.

Even after your not sick anymore, he requests you take it easy and not push yourself. Making sure not to go on any missions until he’s sees your back to your full 100%

[veneataur]

Prompt: Betrayed (day 6)

Fandom: Salvation

Title: A Friend in Need

A/N: This one takes place after “Chip of the Ol’ Block” in season 1. It might be a little AU as the timeline on the show takes a little bit of math to sort out sometimes, but in my mind it’s right after Darius goes to ‘apologize’ to Liam.

It starts with a cough he can’t quell. In the events of the last twenty-four hours, flying to England and back, setting up a covert mission to steal from his uncle, watching said mission from the safety of his Treehouse with Grace, and making his attempt at an apology to Liam, he hasn’t had the time to take any of the medicine he’d been taking to keep the coughing at bay. Between cough suppressants and ibuprofen, he’s had it under control but now it seems that his body has had enough and a single cough turns to more, leaving him hunched over on the couch, where he barely managed to get before the latest fit took over.

So, caught up in the effort to balance breathing with coughing is he that he doesn’t notice Liam’s arrival until there is a hand on his shoulder and a concerned Liam kneeling in front of him.

“Darius? TESS said you needed help. What happened?”

Darius nods his head and gives a vague thumbs up in hopes of shooing Liam away because words are too difficult for him at the moment. He might’ve made efforts to apologize to the young man, but this is too much weakness to show.

“No, no. I’m not buying that you’re okay. Okay isn’t hacking up a lung. I need to get you to the ER.”

“No,” Darius croaks in a break of the breathing-coughing battle. “No.” It’s more of a gasp now because he can’t get the air he wants even though he’s not coughing anymore.

“No?” Liam chuckles, disbelieving. “You can’t breathe, Darius.”

“Just… need a… moment.”

“Alright but hunching over like this isn’t going to help. Here.” Liam stands to find a pillow to lean against the armrest. “Lean up against this and stretch your legs out on the couch. It’ll help make breathing easier.”

Darius gives him a questioning look.

“My mom’s a nurse, but you probably already know that. Anyway, I know these types of things. Now, lay down here or I’m taking you to the ER.”

“’m fine,” Darius says but does move back to lean against the armrest. Any other day and he’d take his shoes off before he dared put them on his couch, but he’s spent. He spends the next several minutes trying to breathe normally and failing more times than he hoped for.

“That’s not helping as much as I’d hoped,” Liam says, walking back into the living room a case in hand.

“Where,” Darius asks. He never realized until now that the young man had disappeared.

“Your bathroom to find a thermometer. I’m guessing there’s one in this first aid kit.”

“I’m not sick, Liam,” Darius says quickly before another cough takes his breath.

“Mhmm. I can feel the heat coming off you without even laying a hand on you.”

“I’m fi…” Darius’ retort is cut off by another coughing fit.

“Yeah, try that one again,” Liam says blandly. In the case, Liam finds a classic digital stick thermometer, much to his surprise. He’d have thought Darius would have one of the infrared ones given his love for technology. It means that he has to wait until Darius has stopped coughing to stick the thermometer in the man’s mouth. He hopes that Darius isn’t sick because playing nursemaid to the man isn’t how he planned on spending his night.

“Open your mouth, Darius,” he says once the latest coughing fit is over. He must catch the man off guard as he opens his mouth without protest and lets Liam stick the thermometer under his tongue. Darius coughs around it a few times but otherwise, it stays there until beeping.

“101.4, Darius,” Liam says checking the reading. “You need to be in bed.”

“No.” Darius coughs. “I need to… get back to work.”

“If you get back to work, you’re going to collapse before you get far.”

“Asteroid.”

“Yes, I know. Impending death and all but you need rest. The asteroid’s still months away.” Liam can’t believe that he’s saying that because months doesn’t seem like long enough for a planet-ending asteroid to be away.

“Just get me my medicine.” Darius points in the vague direction of one of the columns in the treehouse.

“How long have you been taking medicine for this?”

“Couple days. I’ll be fine with it, Liam.” Darius turns to sit up, putting his feet on the floor. The quick movement leaves him lightheaded and Liam, without thought, puts a hand out to hold him steady.

“Since you got back from the Pentagon, then.” Liam can’t help the irritation that seeps in. This is from the torture, whatever the torture was. No one ever told him, but he had his suspicions when Darius returned in very non-Darius clothing, coughing lightly, and holding his ribs. “You’re going to bed. Get into some comfortable clothes for sleeping and then it’s bedtime for you until you can speak more than a few words without coughing or pausing to breathe.”

“I’m fine,” Darius says loudly, pushing himself to his feet in an attempt to show his fitness. Instead, it shows his weakness as he immediately erupts in a harsh coughing fit, keeling over. Only Liam holding him keeps him from sinking to the floor. Liam holds on to him as he continues coughing, feeling the older man’s body shake and sweat with the effort.

“You ready to give in yet,” Liam asks when the fit has died down.

Darius groans and fixes him with a weak glare but doesn’t make any further protests of health.

“Good. Let’s get you to bed then. With a little rest, you’ll probably start feeling better in no time.” Liam re-positions himself so that he can sling one of Darius’ arms over his shoulder and loops his arm around Darius’ waist. Like this, Liam helps Darius into his bedroom, setting him on the bed with orders not to lay down.

“You shouldn’t sleep in those clothes,” Liam says as he walks away to find some better clothes for sleeping.

“There are sweats and t-shirts in the bottom drawer in the closet, Liam,” TESS says.

“Thanks.” Liam goes immediately to the bottom drawer where he finds a dark blue t-shirt and sweatpants with the MIT logo down one leg. He knows the man went to MIT, but to see him with the college’s paraphernalia is something else. Still, these clothes will work. He takes them back out and is surprised to find Darius still sitting up, though the terrible wheeze that accompanies his breathing is still there. Darius really needs to see a doctor, but that’s a different battle that Liam’s not ready for. If he doesn’t get better in the next 12 hours, he’ll tackle the doctor situation and perhaps call in reinforcements for persuasion.

He hands Darius the clothes with orders to put them on while he goes back out to the living room to get the first aid kit. He hopes that there might be an inhaler or something in there. There’s not, so he opts to make some tea instead. The steam should be enough to help clear out some of the wheezing and let Darius rest. In the kitchen, as the kettle is heating up, he finds a bottle of ibuprofen, a bottle of water, and a package of crackers to take back with the tea.

Even though he realizes that he shouldn’t be, he is surprised to find that Darius hasn’t quite managed to change out of his clothes. His shoes and socks are off and he’s currently tangling with the buttons on the shirt. The coughing isn’t helping much.

“Here, let me help you.” Liam sets aside the things he’s brought from the kitchen. He has to bat away Darius’ hands a few times, but eventually makes short work of the buttons and eases the shirt off of Darius. It reveals dark bruising across the width of Darius’ chest in the shape of a band. The worst is on his left side where Liam remembers him holding.

“Put your arms out in front and duck your head down,” Liam says, calculating the least painful way to get the t-shirt on. Darius obeys and Liam gets the shirt on with minimal gasps from Darius. The pants are much easier though Liam does feel a little awkward undressing the man. Still, he shoves that aside as worry for the passiveness of the man takes over. Just ten minutes ago Darius was protesting that he could work just fine and now he seems to have just given in. Perhaps he is sicker that Liam thinks.

Once comfortably dressed, Liam settles Darius under the covers, his upper body propped up with several pillows.

“I have some tea which should help with some of the tightness in your lungs,” Liam says. He hands Darius the tea, which has cooled some, but there’s still some steam coming off.

The next several minutes go far too smoothly for Liam as he gets Darius to drink the tea, eat a few crackers, take a couple ibuprofen, and settle down to sleep. Darius seems to settle, closing his eyes as he sinks into the bed a little. Liam takes the mug back to the kitchen and asks TESS if there’s a heating pad up here. She directs him to a compartment in the coffee table. He takes the heating pad to the bedroom where Darius seems to be sleeping and plugs the pad into an outlet on the nightstand.

“You don’t… have to stay, … Liam,” Darius says tiredly. “I know this is… the last place… you probably want… to be.”

“I have a heating pad here for the bruising on your chest. It might even help with the breathing.” Liam checks the temperature before settling it on Darius’ chest. He pulls one of Darius’ arms up to hold it in place.

“Liam, go.”

“Someone has to stay around to make sure that doesn’t stay on too long,” Liam says absently.

“TESS can do that. Go,… rest after your trip…. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Liam pauses. He could go. Darius gave him the pass to do so. But while he wanted to be far from here twenty minutes ago, he can’t get himself to leave. He’s only now, after meeting Uncle Nick, starting to realize some of the reasons for Darius’ behaviors. If that was the man who raised him, then there’s no wonder Darius behaves as he does. But he’s shown that he’s not incapable of change, of self-reflection. From shifting to using the Ark to merely save humanity to trying to build an EM drive and his mangled attempt at apologizing, underneath the prickly exterior it seems there’s a human being in need of friends who challenge him to be a better man.

“Get some rest, Darius,” Liam says as he settles into a chair he pulls up by the bed. “I’ll be here in case you need anything.”

[inkytsuki]

Genuinely i am actually losing it and I apologize to my buddies if I've seemed super absent and withdrawn lately

My health is really really not great and I'm having to come to terms with a lot of stuff that I really shouldn't have to at 26, and there's currently a lot of fear of the unknown. I'm in near constant pain, I can't walk like I used to, and I've begun getting winded and having fainting spells after only a few minutes on my feet. There's a lot going wrong, and my surgery I had in April severely exacerbated a lot of problems.

I don't even know where to start and I have had consistent trouble finding doctors who will listen, and this is where I've ended up now. Chronic pain and fatigue, malaise, weakness, joint pain, muscle spasms, difficulty walking and holding myself upright, light-headedness, nearly dying from malnutrition and having to discover I have pernicious anemia (still no diagnosis I have to get a doctor, but I found out my grandmother has it too) and have had it for my entire life on my own while doctors told me I wasn't at an unhealthy weight when I telling them I'd lost the ability to eat for a year. It didn't get better until I started taking b12 because I was developing jaundice and it was a last ditch effort before I went to the emergency room for help.

I've had to do research on my own to connect dots to my own conditions to try to find reasonable options for my state at the moment, reading medical papers as they are published...and there are so many things that are connected that make complete sense. I think the majority of my problems are pernicious anemia and potentially secondary adrenal failure due to my pseudotumor cerebri (which guess what guys.....it's been correlated to pernicious anemia. Particularly in infants. And guess who was born with the condition and has a grandmother diagnosed with pernicious anemia and a mother who has struggled with b12 in the past :) ) having put pressure on my pituitary gland for so long.

Along with sciatica, which could be due to the pressure in my spinal column, b12 deficiency causes nerve damage and though I've been taking it daily for the last 3 months, it can take 2 whole years before your deficiency is in good standing (and it can be silent for 20 years before you show symptoms. And 20 years old is when i started getting sicker and sicker.) I don't know how much of this will be permanent. And I'm so tired all the time, and the financial aspect stresses me out so much. And literally everything I keep getting diagnosed with is easily exacerbated by stress.

And disability is impossible for me to get on. We have insurance but the premiums are ridiculous and I'm just too fucking sick for it to be helpful.

I feel like ass and Im honestly just. Ashamed of where I'm at and what I'm going through, even though I know I shouldn't be. I feel weak and I feel like this is all my fault for being so consumed with anxiety until my adhd was treated. But genuinely, so much of this was undetected bc the symptoms can mimic adhd and other mental illness.

But I do know my slurring speech will probably never get better. It's been an issue for a long time now, and though Adderall improves my stutter a lot, it isn't cured and my slurring has shown no improvement.

I'm just exhausted. I'm tired of fighting for people in care professions to listen to what I'm saying. I'm tired of doctors seeing abnormalities on my chart and saying "it's probably fine. You're young" and then looking at my own charts from the last 13 years and seeing the same problems show up in my blood work time after time.

And having the cleft lift surgery only to find out months later from doing research that it's possible that I will have pain in that area for the rest of my life now, especially if I already have chronic pain and no one warning me. I needed the surgery. But I wish I'd known.

I'm just exhausted. Genuinely. And it's nothing personal to anyone. I don't even have the energy for myself at the moment. I just want to sleep all the time. Even when I'm awake, I spend the entire day trying to keep myself from thinking on all of this. And then I have people in my family who keep thinking they know my body and my pain better than me, telling me that my pain isn't that bad and that I'm okay.

But when I explained to my father I was showing signs of P.A. and S.A.I. he panicked. And said it made sense. After downplaying everything time and time again. And while im glad for the support, why didn't you show that same concern when I first told you I had started using the cane to help me stay balanced get around and that I needed a shower chair now because I kept collapsing in the shower due to exhaustion? Why was your first instinct to tell me I was overreacting? Being melodramatic? A hypochondriac?

Why do I have to actively show signs of serious, life-threatening illness before I'm shown compassion and care? Why can't you just believe me when I say I'm in pain? Why can't you understand that my agoraphobia is due to not wanting to answer questions about why I don't come out anymore and why I can't do certain things? To hating the way that people stare when I go to the grocery store and I'm out of breath after 5 minutes and having to take a break just to breathe?

I told Sam earlier I feel like everything is a performance and I'm being judged on it constantly. And there is no way to ever please the audience. And I'm done. I don't care anymore.

[buckysthunderbolts]

Lovesick Syndrome

Bucky x Reader

Summary: The harder it is to deny yourself your soulmate, the sicker you become. Soulmate!AU

Word Count: 2.7k+

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, kinda anti-nat (still love her tho), fluff, everybody is sick yo

N/A: HEY GUYS!! I got inspiration and i came up with this! enjoy!!

It all started when Natasha came into the Compound after Steve and ‘his’ team returned from hiding in Wakanda. She came sauntering in with a stunning man on her arm. He had thick, dark, brown hair and gorgeous sea blue eyes. He wore a thick, black leather jacket with a dark blue Henley. He was absolutely breathtaking. He took her breath away with just the small smile he gave her when she politely introduced herself.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending her arm out in front of her for the gorgeous stranger to take.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Bucky,” he replied, shaking her hand gently.

She had to bite back the gasp threatening to spill from her lips as their hands met. It felt as if fireworks shot out from her fingertips and spread to the rest of her body at his soft touch. His touch burned her, seared her soul into only wanting him. She immediately longed for him. She immediately wanted to love and cherish and protect him. She wanted to get to know him and his smile and his laugh.

She wondered if he felt it too.

Does his hand burn under her touch? Does he want to only want her? Does he want to love and cherish and protect her too?

She wouldn’t know.

Her eyes cast downward and his flesh hand is entwined with Natasha’s perfectly manicured fingers. His other hand, the hand that touched hers, the hand that was made from metal, falls softly out of her grasp.

A gut wrenching feeling enters her body. Her eyes find his again and silently search for any desire that he might’ve felt what she did.

She doesn’t and it kills her.

Her eyes follow her line, the line only her eyes can see. It sticks out of her chest like a sore thumb. The red pulsates with each thump of her heart. It’s loud and bright and wraps around Bucky’s wrist perfectly.

She’s terrified.

She’s terrified that he can see right through her. She’s terrified that her best friend, beautiful and sexy Natasha, noticed that she’s already unexplainably head over heels in love with her boyfriend and she knows nothing about him.

She knows no one can see her soul wrap perfectly around his wrist. She knows no one knows that she can see her soul line that leads to him. She knows that no one knows of her ability to see her own fate lay in the hands of someone else’s.

“Talia’s told me so much about you!” he grinned, making her heart thump loudly against her chest. “It’s glad to finally put a name to a face. I’m glad you and Nat are so close. It’s good to meet the girl that kept my girl out of trouble for so long until we met.”

Her heart shatters.

She watches Nat gush over her beloved boyfriend silently. Her eyes stare blankly at their entwined hands as they squeeze each other’s hands every so often. Words fall on deaf ears as conversation flows without her.

It feels like she can’t breathe. It’s like her world crumbled beneath her as the man she knows she’s meant to be with is, with no doubt, in love with someone else.

She thinks it’s cruel, the idea of soulmates, that is. Everyone’s destined to be with someone but what if that someone isn’t meant to be you? It’s a cruel sick joke that she realizes too little too late because she starts to suffer the consequences not soon after their first encounter.

It begins with the small things. The getting to know yous and cute innocent questions they’d ask each other.

“What’s it like living in a world where you’re older than sliced bread?” she teased with a smirk during breakfast one morning.

His reply was, “Better now that I don’t have to get crumbs all over me.”

It made her stomach flip.

Soon after that, her stomach would start to hurt. She’d make the mistake of brushing it off, blaming it on premenstrual cramps, but it wasn’t.

Then it got worse… and worse… and worse.

The closer her and Bucky became, the sicker she got and she knew why and it was unbearable. She let it fester and rot until it became her own cancer. Being close to Bucky, with Bucky, was killing her. It was destroying her.

The pain of watching the man she loved love someone else was affecting every aspect of her life.

She couldn’t eat because she would throw it up. She couldn’t sleep because it would keep her up. She couldn’t train as often enough because she was too weak.

Then she decided that she had enough. She had enough of the hungry and sleepless nights. She had enough of Bucky and Natasha’s love affair, even though she was a bystander and that she should be Natasha. She was done, done, done.

So she started to avoid him.

She switched her whole routine in order to avoid both Bucky and Natasha. She had Tony put a coffee machine in her room so she wouldn’t have to go to the kitchen to get it as well as a mini fridge for snacks that she wouldn’t have to go to the kitchen for. Tony pretty much put a whole kitchenette into her room to accommodate her situation with Bucky and Nat.

After all, he understood.

He understood the terrible sicknesses that she would fight off in order to maintain her daily life. He understood the pain and heartache she was going as she watched her soulmate fall in love with someone else. He understood all too well and was more than willing to help her move past it as best as he could.

Sam and Wanda were the same way.

They hated that their best friend was suffering from unimaginable, unthinkable pain that they couldn’t help get better. Instead, they helped make it tolerable for her.

They changed her training schedule to their own session together and helped her stay clear of Bucky and Natasha. She was grateful towards her friends. They weren’t going to let her suffer alone. They were going to help her and it touched her.

She slowly started to regain her strength. She was stronger, healthier since she started to avoid Bucky. She returned to going on missions and she was able to eat and sleep regularly. Bucky was on the back burner. She no longer stared at the black ink adoring her heart in the dead of night cursing anyone and everyone for having his name imprinted on her precious skin. She ignored it like the man the name belonged to.

Avoiding Bucky and Natasha lasted weeks. She was avoiding them for so long that she can’t remember the last conversation she had with either of them. It had been that long.

Then it was short lived.

It happened when she was bar hopping with Sam and Wanda on one of their off days.  

She was having a blast dancing and singing along to whatever song was playing at a club they found themselves in. She was slightly tipsy and she was clinging to Sam as they followed the beat of the song on the dance floor.

She was happy. She was healthy.

In that moment, she didn’t want anything else. In that moment, she was fine with the life she had.

Near the bar, however, stood Bucky with his arms crossed as he watch Sam and Y/n have the time of their lives.

He was fuming with anger.

She had been avoiding him for weeks. She changed her training schedule to Sam and Wanda’s session. He no longer saw her at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. She no longer came to Tony’s parties. It was like she disappeared.

He doesn’t know why she’s avoiding him. He doesn’t know why she cut him off. He doesn’t know why it hurts so much.

Since she started to avoid him, he started to get insanely sick, which frightened Natasha and Steve. He was a Super Soldier. He’s not suppose to get sick, but he was.

He kept throwing up. He kept having the shivers. He kept coughing. He kept shaking. He wasn’t getting better and it scared Natasha and Steve. Him getting sick was suppose to be impossible, but there he was, laying in bed for the eighth day in a row.

None of the medicines or antibiotics were helping. Resting wasn’t working. Nothing seemed to be working.

“There’s only one other thing that I can think of that can be causing you all this sickness, Bucky,” Doctor Cho sighed, brushing a stray hair out of her face as she looked at Bucky nervously.

“What is it, Doc?” he asked nervously, sitting up in his chair. Natasha squeezes his hand.

“Are you aware of the Lovesick Syndrome?” she asked. He shook his head. “What it means, in a sense, is that you’re denying yourself of your soulmate. Your mind, body, and soul aren’t entwined with the mind, body, and soul of your soulmate, so it makes you unbearably sick. You can’t stomach the thought of being away from your soulmate, but they either a. don’t know or b. think that they or you are possibly in love with someone else, so you are the one that suffers and gets incredibly sick.”

His heart drops into his stomach and Natasha’s hand slips from his back into her lap. Helen leaves the room and the room is consumed with silence. The only thing he can hear is Natasha’s ragged breathing.

“Natalia,” he croaked, turning his head towards her. He knows she knows but he also knows that it doesn’t hurt any less.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, staring at the ground. A tear slips down her cheek. “I know. It’s okay.”

His chest tightens.

She knows.

“I love you, Natalia. You must know that. You have to know that,” he pleads.

It hurts him too, seeing her this way, because he does love her, but not in that way. Not anymore. He wants her to know that what they had was real. He wants her to know that he did think of her as his soulmate.

“I know, it’s just not in that way. Not anymore, at least.”

“Nat, please—”

“Bucky, just… go. Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she interrupted quietly.

He did.

That was two days ago.

Two long days of silence and more sickness, if that’s even possible.

He knows what, rather who, is causing all this sickness. It makes him angry and guilty and giddy. All he wants to do is talk to her, but it seems to be an impossible task, up until he saw her, Sam, and Wanda slip out of the Compound on an off day. He follows behind, careful not to give himself away.

Now, as he stands a mere 50 feet from her, he can’t help but feel so stupid.

From the moment they met, he was hers, but in every sense of the word, he was Natasha’s. He still showered her with love and affection as his heart slowly started to belong to Y/n but he didn’t do anything because he was with Natasha. He can’t help but feel guilty. He caused Y/n so much pain… so much sickness. It breaks his heart that he broke hers.

He weaves through the endless drunken bodies of the club towards her. He stands behind her and takes a deep breath before brushing his flesh hand against her arm.

Her arm burns and she spins around, face to face with Bucky. Her smile faulted and she harshly pulls her arm out of his grasp, cradling the spot her touched.

Sam and Wanda steps in front of her and it makes him angry even though he knows they’re just trying to protect her.

“I need to talk to you. Please let me talk to you,” he begged over the loud music as their eyes meet.

“It’s okay Sam, Wanda. I can handle this,” she said, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Let us know if you need anything, alright?” Sam demanded softly, pulling her in for a brief hug. She nods into his chest before walking out of the club with Bucky hot on her tail.

They walk in silence for awhile before coming across a park bench. They both sit down with plenty of distance between each other.

“I think I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he whispered into the dark night.

“I don’t think you do,” she spat back defensively, turning her head to him.

“If you don’t think I do, why are you getting so defensive?” he countered.

“Because it’s the only way I know how to protect myself without getting hurt.”

Silence consumes the pair again and her hands rub up and down her arms, attempting to rid the burning sensation Bucky gave her on her arm. Her eyes followed the cars driving past them and she suddenly wishes that she was anywhere else but on the park bench next to Bucky because he knows.

He knows that he’s her soulmate. He knows that she’s in love with him and he won’t say it.

He won’t say it because he doesn’t love her the way she loves him. He won’t say it because she’s not his soulmate even though he’s hers.

She was a glitch, a mistake.

“I know you have Lovesick Syndrome,” he states in the dark, stealing a glance at her.

Her breathing gets caught in her throat and she stares at him. She certainly wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“Lovesick Syndrome. It’s what you get when you deny yourself your soulmate That’s why you’ve been sick, isn’t it?”

She scoffs bitterly, rolling her eyes, “I can’t deny myself of anything–of my soul mate–if he wasn’t mine to begin with,” she snapped.

He winces. He hadn’t thought of what she might be feeling.

She still doesn’t know that he’s no longer with Natasha. She doesn’t know that he too, suffered from Lovesick Syndrome. She doesn’t know and he needs to tell her.

“I know this because I’ve been denying myself of my soulmate too,” he confessed quietly.

Her breathing stutters and her eyes widen in shock. That made no sense to her. How could he be denying himself of his soulmate? Natasha was his soulmate. She had to be. He looked so in love with her.

“What?”

He nods with a soft smile. “I’ve been suffering from Lovesick Syndrome too.”

A lump forms in her throat as the gears in her head start to turn. He knows she’s putting two and two together as her eyes search his for any shred of hesitation or trick or doubt in his eyes. She finds none.

“So does that mean I’m your–you’re my…” she doesn’t finish her sentence because she’s too scared to. Soulmate… could that be her reality? Could she finally be happy?

“Soulmate?” he asks. She nods wordlessly. “Yeah, pumpkin, it does.”

“What about… what about you and Nat?” she whispers quietly, tearing her eyes away from his beautiful blues.

“After I found out why I kept being sick, we ended things. It’s not fair to her. I couldn’t be with her while my heart belonged to someone else.”

She nods again. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, inching his fingers closer to hers. “I didn’t mean to put you in so much pain… get you so sick. If I realized earlier that I was in love with you, I would’ve ended things with Nat sooner. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “Avoiding you seemed like the best idea. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I had to protect myself.”

“I understand. Can we forgive each other?”

She nods with a beautiful smile. “Of course. I forgive you.”

“There’s that beautiful smile I love,” he grins, moving closer to her. “I forgive you too.”

Her smile widens and she moves so their hands entwine. Her fingers squeeze his gently and he moves down so their foreheads touch. She slowly presses her mouth against his and he eagerly responds.

He pushes against her and kisses her with every ounce of passion and love he has for her inside him. His fingers card through her hair and she smiles against his mouth.

His touch no longer burned her; it excited her.

PERMANENT TAGS: @jessevans @fuckmewintertucker @ria132love @anastasiaannaa @bubblyaschampagne @kindnesswins @queen-valeskaxx @lilasiannerd @sammnipple @blueeyedboobear @mcuimxgine @marvel-fanfiction @blueskies-love @super-soldier-wifey @broken-pieces @xxchexchickxx @castawayreject @iamwarrenspeace @melconnor2007 @nerdyandproud9 @frostbyte-horan

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

How would Bucky and Ivar take care of you when you were really sick?

“Thank the Gods you are home.”

Bucky hasn’t even set the kickstand to his motorcycle when he shoots Ivar a pointed look, finding him in disarray at the door to the garage. 

“It’s hardly been two hours,” Bucky says, exasperated. 

“I have changed my shirt twice since then. We will need a new mattress by the time she is done sweating.”

“Out’a the way.” Bucky brushes past Ivar and sets his backpack on a counter in the kitchen. “Can I trust you to heat up the soup? It’s in the Tupperware.” 

“Gladly.” Ivar looks relieved already. 

Bucky finds you in his bed, he can hear your teeth chattering from across the room. He removes his jacket as he comes to your side, reaches his flesh hand out to touch your forehead. It’s slick and clammy and you weakly open your eyes. 

“How’s my Babygirl?” Bucky asks softly. 

“Cold,” you mutter, stifling a cough.

He can’t help but smile; there’s something so adorable about your helpless figure caccooned in his sheets. “Can Daddy warm you up?”

“I don’ wan’ you getting sick.”

“Oh, now you are worried about that,” Ivar sneers suddenly. Bucky glares at him and catches the Tylenol as Ivar tosses it over. He might bitch endlessly, but Ivar keeps you on a strict routine of medicine and reviving foods. He has the next dose ready for you down to the minute, and helps tilt your head back to swallow the pills when you’re too weak to do so. Those sweet, little gestures make it easy to ignore his snippy attitudes. 

He disappears back into the kitchen to keep stirring your soup over the stove. A special made variety that he sent Bucky out for. Filled with salty broth, fresh vegetables, and small chunks of smoked lardo. Ivar has a history with the lardo - something he liked to nibble on or have served in hot water in a time so long ago, where he couldn’t even leave his cabin it was so cold outside.

Bucky undresses down to his boxers. It takes some prodding, but eventually you let him slide beneath the blanket with you. He winces at how hot you feel, even though your skin is covered in goosebumps. 

“C’mere, Doll,” he murmurs; and he’s pulling you into his arms, securing your legs around his waist and your arms under his. His metal fingers brush back your sweaty hair and he rests his palm over your forehead. The coolness of the Vibranium has been soothing to you.

“So warm,” you moan. You wish you had more strength to squeeze him harder. 

“You are, too, Babe.” He chuckles and presses light kisses at any place he can crane his neck to reach. 

“M’sick,” you whine, trying to pull away.

Bucky simply locks you in place. “I haven’t been sick in around seventy years, Sweetheart. Besides, I used to deal with a kid way sicker than you. I think I can handle it.”

“Steeb?”

He’s shaking with laughter again. “Yeah, Steeb.” 

Ivar finally comes back in. There’s a thermos in his pocket filled with the hot soup as he crutches over. He joins you on the bed, giving you a wary glance, but seemingly comforted by the fact that Bucky has you tucked away from him.

“Make sure she takes her medicine with this,” he says.

Bucky fiddles one handed with the Tylenol until Ivar snatches it from him and shakes out two more pills. He hands them back to him, and you whine when Bucky tilts your head up.

“She’s breaking fever.” He can tell by the symptoms. “We should give her a bath after she eats... Two more, okay, Baby?”

You obediently open your mouth and he carefully plops the pills inside. The soup is a fucking godsend on your throat, and you can feel it travel down and spread in a way that makes your fingers and toes tingle. 

“Good girl.”

After a moment, Bucky looks up to see Ivar watching you. He appears almost serene, and certainly possessive.

“Care to join us?” 

The reverie breaks at once and Ivar is lifting himself from the bed. “Absolutely not.” He’s crossing the room even faster. “Let me know when I should draw the bath.”

The next morning brings a snuggling Bucky, still nestled, against your backside this time. Coming out of your stupor, you realize you can breathe again. And though your throat feels a little raw, you’re no longer overcome with the need to cough. The sheets are slightly damp but if you can gather properly, your temperature seems back to normal.

“Feeling better, Babydoll?” Bucky asks, voice thick with sleep. 

You groan, pulling him tighter. Eyes close again when you feel his lips on your shoulder. “Mmm... Much.”

“Good.”

He nuzzles your arm, and you start to slump as his hands drift over your body. It feels so much better not to be covered in sweat anymore. Bucky nearly feels too hot now that you’re not shivering.

You turn in his grasp and plant kisses all over his stubbly chest. Only a little recuperation and you were ready to feel his body smother yours. 

 You’re interrupted before you can get too far. There’s coughing coming from the other room and then you hear the distant, pained wail of a man falling ill in bed...

[hamiltontrashaccount]

Mac and Cheese

Request: Heyyy! If it's not too much trouble, could you write and fic where Thomas has to explain, Martha, his dead wife, to his daughter? It's real angsty but then in the end they eat Mac and cheese on the couch and it turns out real fluffy and happy. Thanks!  

Word Count: 1481

Warnings: Death of a parent (mother)

A/N: Hey everyone! It took me a little while to get to this. I was nervous to write this, since I’d never experienced this situation. I really hope I wrote this correctly. It was kinda hard to write this towards the end, it just made me really emotional thinking about this whole situation happening. But yes, I hope you all enjoy it. :))

MASTERLIST

How was Thomas to explain this to his children? How do you tell someone that their mother had died?

Thomas sat in his car which was parked in his driveway. His wife, his beautiful wife, had just died that morning.

Thomas stared ahead at his home, where he knew his daughters were, probably watching TV waiting for their mom and dad to finally come home.

“No!” Thomas shouted, banging his hands on the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!” He let out a sob. He knew he had to get all this anger and sadness out now; he couldn’t let his daughters see his pain. It would break their hearts even more.

He couldn’t decide what to do. Should he hold off on it and wait until the next morning to tell them? He didn’t want to ruin their night. His daughter, Martha (Patsy), came from soccer practice only an hour ago, and because it was her favorite thing ever, she was probably on top of the world, elated about doing what she loved. How could he bring down her spirits by telling her her mother died.

He was almost grateful that Mary was too young to ever truly feel this pain. As she grew up, her mother would only be a ghostly memory; something she knew she had but didn’t get a chance to experience.

What could he do?

Thomas slowly got out of the car. As he walked up the walkway to his home, he was hit with memories of him and his wife.

Him and Martha had bought this home when they found out she was pregnant with their eldest daughter. He remembered walking up this walkway for the first time, Martha carrying her belly, despite the fact that she was barely showing. When he had opened the door to their home, Martha cried out in joy.

“That’s where we’ll put the playpen!” she said, pointing to the corner of the living room.

“Yes, you said that, love.” Thomas chuckled. “When we first looked at the house, remember?”

“Oh I know.” she said, shrugging off his comment. They walked around the home, Martha pointing at random places, saying what she put there.

When they reached the front door, Martha looked at Thomas.

“This is our home now, Thomas. Our family will live here.” she cried. Thomas smiled, tears in his own eyes, and hugged his wife.

The next memory he had was of after their fourth child had been born. It was a few weeks after the birth, and Thomas and Martha were just coming back from the store after buying a few things for the new baby. Patsy was resting on Thomas shoulders before she started tugging at Thomas’ hair, her way of saying she wanted to be let down. Thomas complied and placed her back on the ground gently. The moment her feet touched the ground, she ran up the walkway.

“Patsy, be careful!” Thomas shouted when he saw he walking too fast, Suddenly, his daughter tripped over a weed growing over the path and fell head first. Thomas rushed to pick her up, and found her lip bleeding. As he looked back on it, the cut wasn’t even too deep; but at that moment, Thomas and Martha were freaking out, and ready to rush Patsy to the hospital. Patsy was fine, although she did have a scar resting at the top of her lip.

And then Thomas remembered as Martha began to get sicker and sicker. No one truly knew what it was that was making her sick. It got much worse after the birth of their sixth child. Martha had constantly thrown up near this walkway, struggled to walk up this walkway before asking Thomas to carry her up it.

At the doorway, Thomas had to stop. He needed to calm down again and keep all these memories out of his head before he broke down again.

Stay strong for Patsy and Mary. He thought to himself.

Suddenly the door swung open and Thomas was greeted by Patsy, who quickly jumped on him. From behind Patsy’s head, he could see his mother standing there, tears obviously threatening to spill out of her eyes.

“Patsy, do you maybe want to go grab Mary and play in your room?” his mother asked.

“Oh, okay!” Patsy answered, completely oblivious to the situation at hand.

“No, Patsy. Stay, I-I… I need to talk to you.”

“Okay, I’ll go wait in the kitchen! Mare and I made some Mac and Cheese, but we used the box instead cause we didn’t know how to make it like mom and you do.”

Thomas smiled for the first time in hours. “That’s okay, honey. Go set up a plate for me and you.”

Patsy nodded and ran off to go set up dinner.

“Are you sure you want to do it now?” his mother asked.

Thomas nodded. “I have to. She’s old enough to know when something’s wrong.”

His omther only nodded. “I’ll grab Mary and take a walk just in case Martha responds… badly.”

Thomas agreed and said goodbye to Mary and his mother when they were ready to leave.

Patsy stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway. “Dad, the food is getting cold!”

“I’m coming now, sweetie.” He said. He walked into the kitchen and almost cried. Oh, the amount of times him and Martha had stood in there making mac and cheese, something he only got an obsession for when he visited France on a business trip.

“Here’s your plate.” Patsy said, putting a fork on it. Thomas grabbed the fork and started eating the food.

Patsy, who was as obsessed with mac and cheese as he was, shoved the food in her mouth.

“What did you want to talk about, dad?” she asked. “Dad?”

Thomas didn’t respond. He still had no idea how to say it.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” her eyes went wide. “Are- are you okay? Wait, where’s mom?”

“Patsy-”

“What’s wrong!” she shouted. She knew her father never acted this way. She only ever saw him withdrawn after their mother would throw up or leave the house when she began to feel too sick. Her parents never noticed, but she saw every time something happened. She knew something was wrong with her mother; she wasn’t stupid. But now she didn’t know. She hated not knowing.

“Martha-” Thomas said, looking at his daughter. Patsy knew her father was about to tell her something important. He only ever used her birth name when something was up. “Your mother she- She died.”

Patsy stared at her father. “No, but… She took us to school this morning. How did she…”

“Martha-”

“What happened?” Patsy cried out. “Where’s mommy? I want mommy.” Patsy’s face was in her hands.

Thomas started crying again. His Patsy, who was always so strong no matter the situation, was crying.

“Come here, baby.” he said, bringing Patsy into his arms. “It’s okay, we’ll be okay.”

“Dad… Why? Why did she-” Patsy’s sobbing only got louder and louder. Her body racked with each sob that passed and Thomas’ heart only broke more. He wished he could do something to ease her pain.

“Dad… Do you think mommy is feeling better now?”

“What do you mean, baby?” Thomas asked as Patsy sat up, wiping whatever tears were left on her face.

“Mommy was- she was sick, right?”

Thomas sighed. He always hoped his daughters never realized how sick she was. “Yes, baby. Mommy was sick for a while.”

“Do-do you-” Patsy sniffed, trying to calm her breathing down so that she could get her sentence out. “Now that she’s… gone, do you think now she feels better? Now that she’s in the happy place?”

The happy place is what Thomas and Martha called heaven.

“Yes, baby. Mommy feels better. She’s not sick anymore.” He answered, caressing her hair, trying to comfort her as best he could.

Patsy smiled, and more tears rolled down her face. “I hope she’s happier now that she’s healthy. But... I’m still gonna miss her.” Patsy said. She started crying again, but this time didn’t let her dad hug her.

“I’m gonna miss her too, Patsy. But she’ll always be here with us. You know mommy loved you and your sister. She could never truly leave you both.”

Patsy nodded her head. Still crying, she stood up and grabbed another bowl. She silently filled it up with mac and cheese and put it on the table where her mother usually sat. She sat back down and stared at the spot where she placed the bowl.

“Now she can eat with us.” Patsy said, giving a weak smile to her father.

Thomas smiled, unable to stop his tears.

Even though times would be harder now that his wife had passed away, he knew they would be alright. He and his daughters were strong, and Martha would always be with them. 

[ladydracarysao3]

In Love, Serenity  

Chapter Twenty Nine: Fear & Fatigue

Excerpt:

He winks at her just before lunging and lifting her into his arms as if she weighs nothing. The feeling gives her as much of a thrill as it did the first time he lifted her in the war room months before.

He carries her to her bed and throws her playfully onto her sheets. She bounces with a squeal. She’s never had the pleasure of seeing him so confident about wanting her. Perhaps he really did miss her desperately. How long has he been planning to take her this way, she wonders.

He begins stripping from his armor and Izzalea adores the sight. Layer by layer, he peels off his mantle, back and breastplates, gauntlets, bracers, and shirts until he is left barechested and grinning.

“Cullen,” Izzalea says in a throaty moan. “You surprise me.”

“Is this alright?” he asks, kneeling on the bed and leaning over her as she lies flat against the sheets.

“It’s more than alright. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

[Read Chapter 29 on AO3]  or  [Start from the Beginning]

-Izzalea-

The desert sun is hot and burning, even as it begins to set. Izzalea looks down at her ever darkening skin, her arms bare from discarding her tunics long ago. She should be protecting herself from the sun, but the days are so hot, and she sweats so much that she just cannot handle the touch of stinking, wet cloth anymore. She’s resorted to wandering around with the least amount of cloth she can get away with, loose sleeveless shirts with linen pants that she rolls up to her knees. She would refuse shoes, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that the stone is so bloody hot, so she fashioned together the lightest slipper-of-a-shoe she could dream up.

She wishes she could wear even less, but she’s still Inquisitor. She needs to be decent. But thankfully, in a keep made up of mainly fighters, there is an atmosphere of a brotherhood. A comradery that has helped her relax, even if just a little bit. No one gives her a second glance as she walks around, her brown skin showing and deepening under the sizzling sun. There are no faint-of-heart nobles poking around to be shocked and appalled at having just witnessed the Inquisitor’s unsheathed calves and forearms.

It’s the little things that are keeping her going and she has so precious few of those anymore. The lack of nobles squawking at her day in and day out is the silver lining to this entire wretched existence in which she’s found herself.

Izzalea leans on the walls on the ramparts and stares to the east. Adamant Keep is out there. It’s waiting.

She’d tried to talk to Clarel, she really did. She took a team to the fortress and called out for parley. As they approached the gates of the massive structure, however, arrows came raining down upon them. If it hadn’t been for a well timed barrier cast by Solas, she’d probably be dead.

Now, more Grey Wardens arrive at Adamant daily. Izzalea has scouts positioned outside the keep around the clock. Watching. Reporting.

Eerie lights can be seen in flashes from the center of the keep at night, and agents report fires of bodies being burned far from the keep’s walls. The dead are snuck out in the cover of darkness, taken far to another old ritual tower, and set ablaze. Clarel is definitely hiding what she is doing from her men.

People are being murdered for sacrifice every night . Corypheus’ demon army grows every night . And every night , Izzalea stares to the east, wishing she could stop it…

She will stop it, though. The Inquisition's ravens have been especially busy over the last two weeks, and now her army is marching across Orlias to meet her. They will stop this, together. They have to. There is no other alternative.

With the support of the Empress and the aid of Lady Seryl - who proved to be a very advantageous ally in supplying the Inquisition with new and stronger trebuchets - Izzalea’s army will lay siege on the fortress and stop the demon army by force.

Cullen is very confident that with their access to modern equipment, the walls of the ancient citadel will come crumbling down, giving them the ability to storm the keep and destroy Corypheus’ plans. She just hopes that the Wardens who’ve not been enslaved will see reason. She cannot stomach the idea of killing all of the Wardens in southern Thedas. No matter how misguided they are at this juncture, they are still Grey Wardens. They are still heroes.

Izzalea sighs as she stares into the dimming eastern sky. Cullen is out there. He is coming to her. She squeezes her eyes shut and mumbles a prayer to the Maker to keep him safe.

Amidst the endless letters sent by ravens, Leliana had slipped a note in one to warn Izzalea of Cullen’s condition.

“He is still functional, but his fatigue is worsening. He leans on the closest steady object whenever he stands and his skin is only growing more pekid. He tries to hide his weakening health, but he fails. I do not want you to be surprised when you see him.”

Cullen is deteriorating due to his lyrium withdrawals, and he is continuing to fight the battle alone. When he told her months ago that he’d stopped taking lyrium, he warned her that he could go mad or even die. She could tell quitting was extremely important to him, and encouraged him to stick to it. She’d hoped they could find a cure or something to help him, but she allowed her focus to fall. Now he’s growing sicker, and she can’t help him. He’s traveling across vast lands, he’s going to fight in a siege battle, and there is nothing she can do to bolster his strength.

If he dies, whether from the withdrawal or falling to someone’s blade due to his weakened state…

No.

She can’t think about that.

Cassandra agreed to watch Cullen, assess his progress - or lack thereof. She is a Seeker, if anyone knows whether or not Cullen can handle this, it will be her. They can meet before the battle and decide if he needs to stay behind, or stay in the very back while their army charges forward.

If he even makes it to her in the first place…

She scrunches her face and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. She has to stop thinking like that. The situation’s out of her hands right now. All she can do is pray that it won’t end in Cullen’s death. He will endure. He has to. Izzalea has enough to worry about without adding fears that the man she cares for may be taken from her.

The blasted mark on her hand decides that now is the time to spark and sputter, sending a jolt of bright energy against her face. Izzalea yelps and cringes from the pain. She forms a fist and considers smashing her stupid mark through the battlement walls. It hurts. A lot. It started its frequent pulsing as she entered the desert, and it’s only gotten worse as the days pass.

She’d hoped it would calm, hoped it was just a temporary fluke. At least mark isn’t growing, it’s just sparking, and ringing, and screaming at her all the Maker-damned time. She’s tried her best to hide it, because she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s in pain. Her people can’t know she has a weakness.

She knocks her fist against the stone a few times as the stinging subsides, but she still hears its song in her ears. Her only break from the ringing is when she sleeps… if she sleeps. If it’s not the heat or green-glowing-torture keeping her awake, it’s her dreams. Truthfully, she doesn’t want to sleep. It’s become too much. She’s not completely sure if it’s him, or if it’s just nightmares. But it feels like it’s him, and it’s maddening. Night after night, since reaching Griffon Wing Keep, Corypheus has haunted her dreams.

She can’t see him, but she hears him. He taunts her. Twists her. Sets her soul on fire with anger. He threatens her and everything she holds dear. He won’t shut up. She screams that she’s not afraid, that he is revealing his fear of her by attacking her sleep.

Corypheus is nervous. He should be.

But the lack of rest is catching up to her. Her emotions are getting harder and harder to control. Every time she shuts her eyes he’s able dig past her defenses a little deeper, screw with her mind a little further. He’s trying to break her, and she’s terrified that it’s working.

So she doesn’t sleep. She barely eats. She just paces, and stresses, and writes to Skyhold.

Her mark flares up again and she yells out in frustration, punching the sandstone wall as she does.

“Inquisitor?” she hears Solas ask softly behind her.

Izzalea spins and blinks, trying to control her breathing and forcing her heart to stop beating like a hummingbird’s wings. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Solas,” she says, clutching her chest. Her nerves are so shot. She shouldn’t be this easy to sneak up on.

“You need to let me look at that,” he says and points to her fisted hand. It aches and green glows from between her fingers. “It’s been hurting you consistently for a while now. You aren’t hiding it from anybody.”

She grunts and tries to think of a lie, but she’s so tired, she just…can’t. Her shoulders slump forward as she places her hand in his palm, mark glowing and facing up.

“I was hoping it would just kind of…knock it off, eventually.” She sighs her words, shoulders slumping forward even more. She sounds stupid. Her logic has definitely been flawed, but Solas is kind and doesn’t chastise her.

He peers at the mark for a moment, then waves his hand above it. Blue and white glyph-type markings appear in the air over her hand and the pain lessens. The mark still sputters, still sings, but the sharp ache that shoots up her arm every time it acts up subdues. She flexes her fingers and turns her hand around, inspecting it like it’s the first time she’s seen it.

“What did you do?” she asks softly, bewildered and thankful.

He smiles and touches her cheek where the mark struck her earlier. She feels his healing magic mend a cut she didn’t even know was there, and with a cloth, he wipes a bit of blood and sweat from her face.

“I cannot make it stop, but I can at least try to aid against the pain,” the mage says as a white light from his fingers cleans the cloth, leaving behind no trace of grime. He carefully folds it and slips it in his pocket.

“I’ve been speaking with the other mages,” Solas continues. He places his hands behind his back and paces past Izzalea to peer out into the horizon toward Adamant. “Aurora confirms it wholeheartedly. The Veil is particularly thin here, feels as if it is stretching thinner every hour.” He turns his steely gaze back to Izzalea. “There is a powerful entity lurking in the Fade. I believe it is the cause of your mark’s…malfunction.”

“Fabulous,” Izzalea huffs, sinking her back again the crenelation. She wonders if that is why Corypheus has also been able to invade her dreams.

Solas turns back to stare into the void. “I believe it to be a fear demon, growing stronger every night. It feeds upon the fears of the forces within Adamant, the forces here...” Solas pauses and turns his head to his shoulder with downcast eyes. “And the fears in you, Inquisitor.”

Izzalea starts to object but he cuts her off.

“You’ve become ragged,” he says, a slight harshness to his voice. “You need to rest or your defenses will continue to strip until you are left with nothing.”

“I’ve just been having a hard time sleeping, that’s all,” Izzalea says.

“I can provide you with an enchantment that will allow you to sleep through the night.”

Then she’d be trapped with Corypheus’ threats all night long. That’s not something she’s interested in. “Thanks, Solas, but--”

“I apologize, I suppose that sounded like an offer,” he says as he turns back to her. He takes her hand in his, firm but not hostile, and presses a rune into her palm. His eyes stare into the depths of her sleepy soul. “It is a demand.”

She allows her eyelids to drop, too exhausted to put up a fight. Plus, she knows he’s right…

“I could join you in the Fade if you like. Similar to how we walked through Haven after arriving in Skyhold.”

She wonders if he is testing her. Could it be possible he knows about her nightmares? She can’t risk him hearing Corypheus. She can’t risk anyone finding out she’s weak. “No…No thank you, Solas,” she says finally. “I will take your enchantment, but will be fine dreaming alone.”

“As you wish.”

When she makes it to her quarters, she places the small rune that Solas gave her under her pillow. She is going to have to risk listening to her enemy for an entire night to even attempt to gain an amount of strength back. Who knows, maybe Corypheus will be busy tonight…

Staring into a looking glass on a table next to her bed, she sees how haggard her appearance has become. Her eyes are bloodshot, her skin is drooping, and the undersides of her eyes are puffy and dark. She looks terrible. Weak. All she can think as she stares at her reflection is, failure .

“Get your shit together,” she mutters to herself with determination and a deep frown.

She sits on the edge of her bed and whispers a prayer to the Maker. She asks him to protect her tonight, to keep the nightmares from unfolding for one night. That’s all she needs. Just one night to regain some strength, some sanity, and perhaps she can find a way to fight back tomorrow.

She blows out a small candle by her bed and takes one last glance through an east facing window. She sees a faint flash of green far off in the distance, and her heart sinks. If she is going to stop this madness, she needs to be strong.

Lying down on her bed, she nuzzles her head into her pillow and above the rune. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes allowing herself to drift into the Fade.

When Izzalea opens her eyes, she’s in her room at Skyhold. The air is so much thinner there. It feels cool and refreshing on her seared skin. She sits up from her bed and looks around with a smile. It feels good to be back here. She’s missed this room. She feels safe here.

She hears the clatter of his boots on stone, and quickly, the golden curls of his hair appear through the railing as Cullen climbs the final steps of her tower’s staircase.

She feels elated to see him. Maker, he’s beautiful. What a sight for her tired, sore eyes. Izzalea rushes from her bed, running with barefeet slapping against cold stone. “Cullen!” she yells in jubilation.

She practically knocks him over when her body collides with his. He laughs and holds her tightly. “Good morning, my love,” he says between deep, breathy chuckles. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I believe so, the best I’ve had in a long time,” she says with a smile and backs out from their hug with a long toe-to-fingertip stretch. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“As am I,” he says with a wicked smirk, his scar curling in that enticing way that it does. “I missed you desperately, Izzalea.” His voice has grown darker and her chest flutters.

“Oh, have you?” She smirks back.

He winks at her just before lunging and lifting her into his arms as if she weighs nothing. The feeling gives her as much of a thrill as it did the first time he lifted her in the war room months before.

He carries her to her bed and throws her playfully onto her sheets. She bounces with a squeal. She’s never had the pleasure of seeing him so confident about wanting her. Perhaps he really did miss her desperately. How long has he been planning to take her this way, she wonders.

He begins stripping from his armor and Izzalea adores the sight. Layer by layer, he peels off his mantle, back and breastplates, gauntlets, bracers, and shirts until he is left barechested and grinning.

“Cullen,” Izzalea says in a throaty moan. “You surprise me.”

“Is this alright?” he asks, kneeling on the bed and leaning over her as she lies flat against the sheets.

“It’s more than alright. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” She feels dizzy. Her heart beats with so much excitement that it’s spastic, made even more spastic when she feels his hand glide up the length of her inner thigh. She gasps and heat pools in her smalls. She looks into his gorgeous, golden, smoldering eyes. “Cullen…”

He leans down and brushes soft kisses against her lips as his hand cups at her heat over her pajamas. She moans and press her hips forward to rub herself firmer into his palm. Cullen smiles and leans back, breaking their kiss. Izzalea bites her lower lip, overcome with warmth and feelings about how much she adores this man.

Just as she is feeling compelled to tell him how she feels about him, how much he means to her, a deep furrow appears between his brows. He looks at her with such deep concern that it’s worrying. Attempting to speak, only husky grunts crack in his throat. The pulls his hand that was seated between her thighs and knocks his fist against his chest. Panic then sparks in his eyes just before they roll back, only showing white while his eyelids flutter wildly. Cullen slumps, rolling backward onto the bed next to her.

“Cullen?!” Izzalea shrieks and sits up. She shakes him by the shoulders, “Cullen what’s happening? Cullen, wake up!”

He doesn't respond aside from low, disconcerting gurgling sounds, his mouth open and jaw loose. Izzalea continues to shake him, screaming for him to wake up, when he suddenly starts convulsing. His body springs into vicious shudders and jerks, limp and shaking violently at the same time.

Izzalea screams, “No! No, no, no, no, no!” She doesn’t know what to do, how to stop his fit, how to save him. She needs help. She starts to get up to scream from her balcony. Scream for healers to come quickly, when he stops. Just as suddenly as his convulsions began, they stopped. His body lies still. Terrifyingly still.

“No…” Her voice cracks. She rushes to feel a pulse, something to tell her he is still alive, but he isn’t breathing, his heart’s not beating. “No, Cullen,” she cries, tears streaming down her face, her body aching and trembling. “Please, wake up.” Her voice is only a crackling squeak of a sound as sobs overpower everything else. “Help,” she cries through the choking tears, but no one can hear her, no one can help. He’s gone.

The lyrium…

It must have been the lyrium…

Why did she encourage him to quit when she knew he could die? Now he’s gone.

“This will happen to your precious commander.” The voice rings in her ears so loudly that it’s almost deafening. “He is dying. Now . As he marches to your aid.” The booming voice of Corypheus echoes against the walls. “And Calpernia is watching. She is waiting for him to fall. When he does, Herald, she will be there to bring him back.”

“What are you talking about?” Izzalea calls out in anger, wiping her eyes of salty tears. It is then that she hears the tiny tinking sounds. Millions of tiny little tink-tink-tinks echo as droves of small red creatures pour from every opening, every crack, every crevice in her bedroom walls. A tiny army of red lyrium creatures. Like small lyrium spiders. They flow as if one unit from the walls and toward the bed.

Izzalea growls and crashes against them, desperately trying to protect Cullen. She throws her feet, her fists, anything , to push them back or crush them. Her body bloodies against the sharp rocky creatures. There are too many of them. She’s overrun. The creatures cover Cullens body and begin eating and tearing away at his flesh.

Izzalea screams in horror. “Stop this! Stop this, you monster!” She jumps off the bed, backing away as Cullen’s body is destroyed right before her eyes.

This isn't real, she tells herself. Corypheus trapped her in another nightmare. He is feeding off of her fears about losing Cullen to lyrium. She needs to calm down. He can’t be allowed to manipulate her like this. But seeing Cullen ripped to shreds is too much. It’s too much!

“Imagine the crippling effects to your Inquisition, once I have your commander. I believe he is much better suited helping Calpernia than your ridiculous Inquisition, don’t you?” The voice roars like violent thunder in her head. The mangled body on her bed starts to move.

Cullen sits up, the tiny red creatures forming large crystals of lyrium that jut from grey, decaying  flesh. His eyes glow with a bright, radiating crimson and he stands, glaring into her.

“No. Cullen. Stop. Stop this, Corypheus!” Izzalea screams.

Cullen begins taking slow, ragged steps toward her and she backs up faster.

“Cease your ridiculous plot to undo me, Izzalea, and I will stop torturing your dreams. Submit to me, and I will make you a General. I will save your precious Cullen, and you will only know glory. For that is what you want most in this world, is it not? Your pride hunts for glory. You feed off it. I will bestow it upon you. You need only submit.”

“Never!” Izzalea screams at the top of her lungs. She rushes to her wardrobe and with a powerful shove, knocks it down toward Cullen. It was an attempt to slow him down, but the tiny red lyrium creatures encircle the wood and cut through it like a sharp dagger through soft flesh.

Izzalea backs up onto her balcony. She’s trapped. She can’t wake up. And she has no idea what this monstrous version of Cullen and the army of lyrium creatures are going to do to her.

“You are a fool, Herald. Your Maker will not save you. His prophet will not aid you. They are gone. The heavens are empty. I will be your God. There is nothing you can do to stop me. I will find your Commander at his weakest moment, and I will make him mine. And I will destroy you.” The voice booms from the skies. He is everywhere. There is no escape.

Cullen walks out onto the balcony, hands outstretched to rip her apart. Izzalea screams and trips against the the stone railing behind her, flipping her off the edge.

She falls, and falls, and falls. She falls for longer than ever seemed possible, the air whipping past her as the skies and air laugh around her. Cullen leans over the edge of the balcony smiling at her, and she falls.

Just as trees come into her periphery and she knows she is about to hit the ground, her eyes snap open.

Izzalea gasps for air and jerks up from her bed, her eyes wide and blinded by the early morning sun coming through her windows. She pants and gasps for air. Her body is trembling. Her clothing and sheets are soaked through with sweat. Her heart is racing so fast that she fears it will trip on itself and stop completely. She hears it beating in her ears along with the screaming song of her mark.

She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She rests her head between her knees, trying desperately to regain control of her body. Slowly, she catches her breath and slowly, her heart rate slows to a less life threatening speed. As the panic subsides, the realization of what she just dreamt sets in.

Izzalea grips at her body tightly.

And she cries.

[accio-infinity-stone]

Knight in a Dirty Blue Coat (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Request by Anonymous: Hey, I was wondering if you could write a Newtxreader where he gets all overprotective over the reader please? Lots of fluff if that's okay😊 I love your account btw❤️❤️

Word Count: 2,423

Warnings: Wounds, bleeding, intention of drugging

I think I made it angsty again…

A/N: I kind of went on a tangent away from the main point of the request, sorry.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You couldn’t focus on the book you were reading. You kept glancing at the clock, Newt should have been back an hour ago. Normally, you wouldn’t have payed it much mind, Newt was always getting caught up in his research but he was observing a werewolf today and you were worried, you were terrified and you were kind of pissed. You knew Newt had to collect information on many magical creatures but this was so dangerous. It was common knowledge that when a person turns into a werewolf they lose themselves entirely and are overtaken by a ravenous hunger. Newt was experienced in dangerous creatures but you couldn’t believe how reckless this was. You tried to convince him not to go but he went anyway, apparating before you could declare that you were coming with him. You were also angry with him because of this. You could make your own decisions, you didn’t need him to protect you, he needed you to protect him.

You two had been dating for two months and were already head-over-heels for each other, you had been friends beforehand so you already had a relationship to build on. You loved Newt but sometimes you couldn’t take how careless he could be, throwing himself into danger for the sake of the beasts and his own knowledge. You’ve had to mend many of his injuries, though none of them serious, but you couldn’t help but feel you were just waiting until his life was on the line.

You slammed the book shut and stood up swiftly from the couch, your mind a swarm of thoughts. You could feel your body buzzing, waiting, expecting. It’s not like you could go and look for him, he had refused to tell you where he was going for the very reason you needed to know. You were pacing in front of the clock, staring at it’s slow moving hands.

Suddenly you heard shuffling from outside your hotel door and your heart leapt in relief and joy. A moment later a very pale Newt stumbled in and your smile fell and stomach clenched as you saw he was clutching a bleeding gash over his abdomen. He gave you a small bashful smile as he started to fall. You leapt forwards and caught him.

“Merlin’s beard, Newt.” You gasped as you dragged him over to the couch. He groaned as you lay him down. You removed his hands from the gushing wound. You slapped a hand over your mouth as a sob escaped your lips. Two deep, wide gashes slashed across his stomach. Your gaze flicked up to his, he was trying to hide his pain, you could tell.

“I seem to be in a little bit of a predicament.” He said, trying to sound lighthearted. You didn’t say anything as you removed his coat and scrambled into the kitchen, pouring water into a bowl and grabbing a few rags. You ran back into the living room and placed them on the coffee table and then ran into Newt’s case, grabbing vials and bandages you thought you would need. You then returned to an even sicker looking Newt. He looked deathly pale and his breathing was shallow, eyes heavily lidded.

Your mind was screaming and tears pouring down your cheeks as you hurriedly cleaned the wounds, staining the water and rags red. You then poured the appropriate solutions onto his wound, rubbing them in with your hands. You could tell the medicine was hurting him because overtime you rubbed it in he would flinch lightly. He was so weak he couldn’t even hiss or groan. Your hands were surprisingly steady as you murmured healing spells, hovering your wand and hand over the gashes. Your mind kept screaming his life is on the line, save him, save him, SAVE HIM.

Colour soon returned to his face as you were finishing up and bandaging him up an hour later. He was half-conscious and gazing at you as you finished wrapping his abdomen. You finally sat back and looked at his face. He smiled at you weakly.

“Thank you.” He whispered, reaching out to you. You scooted out of his reach, shaking your head and covering your mouth as you released a sob. His smile fell as he looked at you worriedly. Why in the name of Merlin was he the one worried. You wrapped you arms around yourself as you sobbed in front of him. Your mind not yet calming down from his near death experience. “Y/N? Don’t cry. I’m okay.” He said, trying to reach out to you again but you were still out of reach. It was cruel, you knew he wanted to comfort you but he couldn’t actually move his body but you couldn’t go to him, not yet.

“Was it worth it?” You asked, not bitterly but sadly. The tears were cascading down your face as he flinched visibly.

“Y/N…” He started but you shook your head, silencing him. You stood up, realising you were now shaking violently. You let another sob escape as you ran out of the room, hearing Newt call your name behind you.

———

You still weren’t fine, but you felt better. Partly because of the alcohol but you weren’t sobbing or shaking anymore. Your heart wouldn’t unclench though and was in a constant state of stress. You were sitting at a bar, frowning at your drink. You weren’t drunk and you didn’t intend on getting drunk. That wasn’t what you needed, you just needed a drink and a place away from Newt. You were angry and upset and have been sitting here for a while now with a sour expression. You suddenly saw someone out of the corner of your eye slide into the stool next to you and order a drink.

“What’s eating you, doll?” The man asked you. You shrugged, not looking at him. He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I get it, you don’t want to talk. It’s just not everyday you see a spiffy dame sitting alone.” He said, looking at you. You glanced down at yourself, you were just wearing a simple everyday dress and you didn’t even want to know what kind of state your hair was in. You definitely didn’t think you looked ‘spiffy’.

“Look, I’m just looking to have a chat.” He said. You gave him a suspicious glance, finally looking at him. He wasn’t bad looking, he wasn’t as attractive as Newt but not horrible to look at. If just having a chat was all he was looking for, you could use something to distract you. You would go back to your hotel room once you had calmed down a little more and maybe some human interaction would help. Now you weren’t completely naive, you knew of men and how they drugged women but if you kept your drink in your hand and your eyes on it you would be safe and he wouldn’t do anything in a bar full of people, so you were safe. “Come on, don’t be such a wet blanket.” He said, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Fine, but just talking.” You said, looking at him pointedly. He raised his hands up to show he meant no harm.

“Hey, that’s all I’m looking for.” He said smiling.

———

Where on earth could she have gone? Newt wondered as he stumbled down the street, looking for you. His wounds had healed a little more since you left thanks to your healing abilities, enough so he could get up. He knew he technically shouldn’t be up and should be resting and letting his wounds fully heal but your tear stained face kept flashing through his mind. He felt so guilty for making you so sad and worried. He had just made a stupid mistake when he was observing the werewolf, alerting it of his presence and things had just escalated from there. He kept remembering your heart wrenching sobs and shaking hands, making his heart clench painfully.

His wounds still aching, he stumbled into a pub and looked around to see if you were there. His eyes finally landed on your familiar H/C hair. His face immediately brightened and he started to walk over to you, thinking of what he would say to you. Apologising profusely being on the top of his list. He then saw you talking to another man, laughing and gesturing animatedly. His face immediately fell and he took a step back.

He didn’t quite know what to feel. He know he shouldn’t feel jealous but he did, the last thing he made you do was cry and here was this stranger making you laugh. Newt always knew you were too good for him but he was sure that you loved him too. Well, he hoped. He stared at you sadly, deciding to go back to your hotel room and wait for you there. He didn’t want you to be sad and here you were laughing, he wasn’t going to interrupt that so he’d wait.

He was about to turn around and leave when he saw the man point to something behind you, making you look, in this moment the man slipped something into your drink. It was swift and sudden so there’d be no way you would notice. Newt’s eyes widened and he felt anger and disbelief bubble up within him. You then turned around and went to take a sip of your drink.

“Y/N” He exclaimed, dashing over to you, ignoring the flare of pain in his wounds.

“Newt?” You asked surprisedly, putting your drink drown. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused, your eyes then flickered to his stomach and they filled with worry. “You should be resting and healing.”

“Don’t drink that.” He said urgently. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Yeah, mate, let the lady do what she wants.” The stranger said. Newt whirled on the man, fists clenching.

“Don’t you dare even look at her.” He said, deadly calm and moved in between you and the man. You were still confused.

“Newt, what are you saying?” You asked.

“He drugged your drink.” He said, keeping his eyes on the man.

“What?” You asked, disbelieving. “That’s impossible, I’ve had the drink in my hand the whole time.” You said, you were sure he would’ve had no chance to drug it.

“He did it when you looked away.” He told you. You released your drink and pushed it away, feeling sick at what had almost happened.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re insinuating -“ The man started.

“Oh I’m not insinuating anything.” Newt interrupted angrily. You placed your hand on Newt’s arm, fearing he was going to do something he’d regret.

“Newt, let’s just go.” You said. Newt turned to you, his expression softening and eyes filling with a mix of love and worry. He nodded and slipped his hand into yours and giving the man one last dirty look, started to walk away.

“Too much of a bearcat for me anyway.” The man mumbled, turning back to his drink. You felt Newt clench and his hand flew to his wand in his coat pocket.

“Newt.” You said, stopping him. He clenched his jaw and looked down. His hand fell away from his pocket and he kept walking. Once you had left the bar you crushed him in a hug, making him yelp. “Oh, Newt, I’m so sorry. I forgot about your wounds.” You said, jumping away from him fretfully. He just took a step forward and gave you a hug, a lighter hug than yours albeit. You noticed he was still tense, from the recent encounter or his wounds you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You knew he was talking about his werewolf incident. You had already forgiven him but was glad he apologised. You could never stay mad at him for too long.

“I’m sorry too.” You murmured. Newt leaned back a little to look at your face.

“For what?” He asked, confused.

“For running out like that.” You said. You hadn’t meant for him to worry so much that he would go looking for you especially in the state that he was in. But what did you expect from the caring mummy that was Newt Scamander.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” He said, bringing you back into the hug. You inhaled his scent, he always managed to smell like cinnamon. Even after having bled out for a good while. “I know what you went through was sudden and a lot and I’m so so sorry, I just didn’t know who else to go to.” He said softly.

“No, you always come to me, ok? It doesn’t matter if it’ll upset me, I’ll always be here.” You said against his chest. He gave a sigh and squeezed you a little tighter, ignoring the small prick of pain in his wounds. You both started to walk home, opting not to apparate due to Newt’s state. He had relaxed a little but you could tell that he was still angry by the set of his jaw and how he kept looking you up and down as if somehow the man had hurt you since you had left. “Newt, I’m fine.” You said, stepping closer to reassure him. He smiled sheepishly and ran his fingers through his dusty auburn hair. A new habit he had picked up, you realised.

“I know. It’s just I can’t stop thinking what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.” He said, pain lacing through his words even at the prospect of the stranger’s plan succeeding.

“But you were there and I’m fine.” You reminded him. “You were my knight in a dirty blue coat.” You joked, earning a smile from Newt.

“Maybe I should have rode in on a hippogriff.” He said, pretending to disappointed that he hadn’t thought of the idea earlier. You laughed and squeezed his hand.

“Where you really going to use your wand on him?” You asked, gazing at him tentatively. He nodded firmly.

“I had a very particular hex in mind that would have given him a nice pair of antlers.” He said. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good thing I stopped you then. Though antlers may have suited him.” You said, keeping the mood light. He grinned at you and pulled you closer.

“Thank Merlin I have you.” He sighed happily, pulling you in closer as you gave him a joyful smile.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I know this scenario is a little bit over used but this is one cliché I kind of like…does that make me a bad person? AH SORRY!

Please tell me what you think of it. Constructive criticism is welcome. (◕‿◕✿)

[heebiejbies]

Affliction - Chapter II

Affliction Masterlist

Warnings: This series contains mentions of violence, abuse, and vulgar language. 

Characters: Sehun and Suho

Word Count: 2.1k

“The devil’s finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist.”

The first week at work was rather hectic. I’ve had my hands full taking care of one patient in particular, Sehun. He had gotten extremely ill a few days ago, and I was by his side most of the time when I was here. He was burning up constantly, he had severe abdominal pain, and he couldn’t keep anything down. He was hooked up to an IV and was being given fluids through that way since his body rejected everything he tried to eat or drink. The first time he threw up, it was as if his whole body gave out on him. I found him curled up on the floor of his room, he didn’t make it to the bathroom in time due to him collapsing whenever he tried to get up.

I honestly felt sad for him. What Yeni had told me was still in the back of my mind, but seeing him in this state made me question the credibility of the story. He looked like a helpless kid, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he could have killed someone. How I found him when I first came into work that morning wasn’t something I could see a killer doing. Especially when he cried every single time he threw up.

“Alright, come on Sehun. We have to get you cleaned up, how about a cool bath?” I asked. He nodded his head slowly, so I helped him up and helped him to the bathroom. He didn’t have enough strength to stand for a shower, so a bath was his only option. I don’t understand how a seemingly physically healthy, young adult male could get so ill. When I left the day before he turned up sick, he seemed perfectly fine. What I saw that next morning when I found him was the exact opposite. He couldn’t even walk without me helping him.

I helped him get undressed, being cautious of the IV that was in his hand. After helping him into the bathtub, I rested his hand with the IV on the side of the tub. I can’t help but compare him to a child, or even an elderly person. He just had this helpless look to him while sitting in the tub. I mean, I am having to give him a sponge bath because he is too weak to clean himself.

“Will you be okay while I go grab a few towels from one of the closets?” He, yet again, nodded his head slowly.

On my way back from grabbing the towels, I saw that one of the patients had pressed the button to call a nurse. I checked what room, and of course it had to be one in the left wing. Junmyeon—or Suho as he had told me to call him—was the patient that had pressed the button. I didn’t see Yeni or Lilly, so I decided I would have to make a quick trip to go see if he needed something.

“Hey, are you alright?” I ask, not knocking on his door before entering. He had knocked over the table in his room, and he was struggling to get out of his restraints.

“About damn time one of you came in here! I’ve been pressing that damn button for ten minutes!” He growled. I picked up the table he had knocked over, and put it back in its place.

“Is there something you need?”

“Not anymore, you nurses are so irresponsible. You call yourself caretakers? You’re a bunch of monsters!”

I took a deep breath in, and put on my best smile I could muster up. “Listen, if  you don’t need anything I will get going. Sehun is really sick and he needs my help,” I inform. When he hears Sehun’s name, his whole demeanor calms down.

“Sehun is sick?” I nodded.

“Is he alright?” I shook my head.

“When I came into work a few days ago, I found him just lying in the middle of his room. He felt himself about to get sick, so he tried to go to the bathroom but his body gave out on him. He’s too weak to even walk or stand on his own without someone supporting him. I had to help him get in the bath, and I was in the process of getting towels when I realized that you had called for a nurse.” Why was he so concerned about Sehun? I knew they were friends before coming here, but he seemed almost petrified over hearing about Sehun being sick. I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t say a word after that. I excused myself from his room and went back to Sehun’s.

While I was washing Sehun, I noticed he had multiple scars on his neck. It looked like he was injected with something over and over again. Most of them didn’t look recent, but a few did. I stared at the marks in confusion, I couldn’t think of a reason as to why he would need an injection on this spot in his body. I lightly ran the tips of my fingers over them, “How did you get these?”

For the first time in four days, he finally spoke to me. “She told me that it would help make me better, but I just got sicker,” His voice quivered, he was almost too weak to even speak. Who was she? Was it one of the other nurses? What did he mean by ‘I just got sicker’?

“Sehun, look at me please,” I turned his face towards me, “Did one of the other nurses do this to you?” His eyes started watering, if I thought he looked helpless then, he really looks helpless now. I decided to not question him further, I didn’t want to upset him in this weak state.

After his bath, I helped Sehun get dressed and I laid him back down in his bed. He wasn’t sweating anymore, but he still was running a slight fever. He also told me that the pain had gone down from a 9 to a 4 on the scale. I gave him a cup of water in case he wanted to try and drink something, and I was going to give him medicine to help him sleep. I didn’t want to test if he could keep pills down, so I decided that injecting him would be easier and it would get into his bloodstream quicker.

When I went to inject him, he pulled his arm away from me.

“N-No!” He said.

His reaction puzzled me, why was he so scared of being injected? Did it have something to do with those marks on his neck? He didn’t act that way when I got his IV in, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t afraid of needles.

“Shh, it’s okay. This will just make you sleep. That’s all it will do, I promise you,” I said. I started petting his hair to try and get him to relax. He calmed down, and I was able to inject him with the medicine. The entire time, he had his eyes focused on the syringe. He kept a watchful eye on it up until I threw it away in the bin.

“If this is all you need, I’m going to go back out and check on the other patients,” I explained. I fixed the line of his IV so he could move around a bit more if he needed to. Before I could turn to leave, his hand reached out and caught onto my wrist. I don’t know what he wanted, but something told me he didn’t want me to leave.

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?”

He nodded his head in response. I pulled one of the chairs closer to his bed so I could sit beside him. I held his hand until I noticed that he had fallen asleep. This whole situation baffled me. He showed no signs of being sick, until the day he started throwing up and talking about his pain. Yeni and Lilly didn’t even act like this was serious, how could they not be concerned? The night before he got sick, he seemed completely fine. How did he get so sick so fast? And if he has gotten sick like this before, why didn’t they tell me? The dots just weren’t connecting for me no matter how much I tried to make them connect.

Another thing that I kept thinking about were the injection marks on his neck. He wasn’t one of the violent ones, so they wouldn’t have had to sedate him that many times. He seemed terrified of the syringe, like he was scared of being injected with anything. His response when I asked him about the marks also replayed over in my head. If the ‘she’ he talked about was one of the other nurses, why did they not mention it? If he had an allergic or negative reaction to whatever medicine they used, they should have made a note to not give him that particular medicine. I even checked his file the day he turned up sick, and there were no notes that suggested that was the case.

There were still no signs of Lilly or Yeni when I got back to the nurse’s station. I sat down in one of the chairs and decided to look into the files of the other patients. I double checked Sehun’s again just to make sure there wasn’t anything on file that I missed, and his file was clean just as I remembered. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the other files, until I went to try and look into the files of the patients in the left wing.

‘Authorization Required’

Well that’s new. I didn’t need the authorization to look at the files of those in the right wing. I tried my login information that I used to get into the system.

‘Access Denied’

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Why would these files need authorization to view them? And what would the login information be to gain access to the files? I looked around the station to see if it was written on a sticky note, even looking into some of the notes on their computers. Despite me snooping around the entire station, I found nothing.

The events of today continued to haunt my mind even when I was off the clock. I spent the whole drive home trying to piece the puzzle together. I had asked Lilly about what Sehun said, after she returned from wherever it was that she disappeared to for hours.

“I know that you are new, but you have to learn that these guys are not what they make themselves out to be. He’s just acting helpless to gain your trust, and when you least expect it he will attack you. You have to be on guard at all times, no matter what. He’s not one of the violent ones, but he is still dangerous. All of the things he said to you were nothing but figments of his imagination. He made them up, plain and simple. He wants you to think we are the bad guys here.”

Thinking back to the marks on his neck baffled me even further. She didn’t even try and give a reason to explain how the marks got there. If the ‘her’ Sehun was referring to was Lilly, why wouldn’t she try and explain how they got on his neck? I feel like if she was responsible, she’d want to clear all suspicion towards her. I know I didn’t imagine them there, so it wasn’t as if they were a figment of his and my imagination.

When I arrived home, I was so caught up in my thoughts that I failed to see someone walking out of my apartment building. We collided into one another, causing my purse and its contents to drop to the ground. The stranger immediately crouched down to pick up the things that spilled out of my purse, “I am so sorry about that! Here, let me help you!”

“No, I should be the one apologizing. I should have paid more attention to where I was going.” I really shouldn’t have gotten so lost in my thoughts like that, it’s so out of character for me. My mind was just so consumed with thoughts of that place that I couldn’t help but get lost in them.

When we gathered up all of the things that spilled out of my bag, the stranger stuck his hand out for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you. I just moved here a couple of days ago, my name is Yifan.”