#YoU'rE NoT MoLDY oR AnYThiNG

[stupidcowboykid]

what if jesus was like. stale. like what if the wine was off.

[darkbluekies]

In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

[ddejavvu]

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[heartfullofleeches]

Pin [Yan Doll] + Doll Reader who despises humans and wants nothing to do with them. No easier way to learn how to love yourself than falling in love with someone who hates what you're pretending to be. Doll Reader has a habit for stealing any dolls they deem abandoned, whisking their new friends away to the safe haven they've created for dolls in the mansion their former master left for them. They'll never forgive that human for what they've done... Dying and leaving them all alone.... They'll make sure no doll ever has to go through the same torment they've had to endure.

"You there! Are you doll or human?"

"Pardon?"

"Doll or human? You look like a doll, but your skin is warm to the touch. If you are human then you have no business here. Get! Shoo!"

"Hm... I suppose I am neither, but my current vessel is that of a doll if that helps."

Doll Reader shrugs. "Close enough. Come in, come in! You're just in time for dinner!"

-

Alternatively-

Remmy[Dollmaker Yan] + Doll Reader who hates humans. Doll Reader who steals Remmy's precious Maribelle the millisecond he takes his eyes off of her. Doll Reader who is more aggressive with Remmy because they've seen how much he cares for his dolls and it reminds them of the human who left them behind. Remmy who becomes smitten with the angry doll witnessing their love and protectiveness of other dolls - doing anything he can to prove to them he'll be with them to the very end. If only he knew how much more that upset them.

"Get away! All you humans are the same. You probably smell like moldy cheese! Given, I don't have a nose myself, but something tells me that you do!"

"Please just give her back. She's my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without her...."

Doll Reader reluctantly hands the doll over. "You'd better treat her well. Love her the same as you'd love another human. Like a partner or whatever. Whatever is most important to you."

"O-oh.... Maribelle is just a friend. There is another doll I would like to get to know a little better though..."

Doll Reader stares at Remmy like he's grown another head as he sheepishly tucks Maribelle under his arm.

"You....pervert! Why on earth would I want to be with a human of all creatures?! As if there's anything you could do to prove your worth to me."

"Meet me this Saturday and I'll give it my best shot?"

[a-sip-of-milo]

Some friendly reminders to...

Take your medication if you haven't already.

Drink a glass or two of water.

Release the pressure in your jaw. It has to be hurting by now.

Refill your pets' water/food bowls, clean out their litter, etc.

Check for upcoming appointments. I forget about mine far too often.

Take a shower if you're having sensory issues but can't figure out why. Sometimes that's all you need to get rid of those bad feelings.

Put on that load of washing that's been piling up for days. It's only going to feel more overwhelming the more you let it pile up.

Same goes for the dishes you've got sitting around the place!

Take a nap if you're feeling tired. It's better (and more productive!) to rest for an hour or two and be able to function for the rest of the day than to spend the entire day unable to do anything because you're too tired.

Show some appreciation to someone you're close to. Tell them you love them, give them a hug or just go sit with them for a while to let them know you're there.

Put that important thing in a safe space. Don't leave it where it is currently sitting because you think you'll remember where it is. You'll kick yourself for it if you do.

Go fiddle with some stuff that you haven't touched in a while. Grab that board game out and just read the rules, take a look at that book you've been meaning to read for months, or just. sit with a belonging that's not familiar to you. Maybe you'll find something that you quite enjoy.

move that fragile object from the side of the surface. IT IS NOT SAFE THERE, ESPECIALLY IF YOU HAVE CATS.

Take a two minute walk. You could even just step outside the front door and count three things you see. Fresh air is good (but i completely understand not wanting to, i've been procrastinating too)

Do something with that meal that's about to expire in the fridge. Eat it, toss it, whatever. Just don't let it sit there until it's moldy or you'll be even less inclined to do something about it.

Book an appointment if you're concerned about something that's appeared or changed about yourself, physically or mentally. I know it often feels like we're overreacting, and maybe we are, but it's worth it even just to put your mind at ease.

If you've got a streak of some kind going, remember to do that before it expires.

Happy living 💞

[reggieswriter]

James Potter who finally takes the hint Lily doesn't like him in sixth year after she comes out as gay in front of the whole great hall to get him to stop.

James Potter who bumps into you after running away from Professor McGonagall after a prank gone wrong.

James Potter who is surprised when you vouch for him to Professor McGonagall getting him out of trouble.

James Potter who is surprised anyone would stand up for him since he's so used to having to stand up for others, especially a pretty girl like yourself.

James Potter who realizes you're in more of his classes than he had originally thought.

James Potter who doesn't realize that he's slowly falling for you from afar. Noticing the small things you start to do.

James Potter who finally and only realizes it when his friends including Lily tell him that he's falling in love.

James Potter who doesn't want to chase you away like he did Lily.

James Potter who takes his time to slowly move his way into your life and learn everything about you he didn't know before.

James Potter who finally works up the guts to ask you out after he sees some guy try and ask you out.

James Potter who is ecstatic that you say yes but freaks out because he's never gotten this far before.

James Potter who plans out a perfect date and shows up to your dorm 10 minutes early with your favorite flowers.

James Potter who is so happy the date goes well that he starts a wedding book for you and him that same night.

James Potter who introduces you to his friends immediately hoping you like them.

James Potter who unlike Sirius waits and plans out your proposal the week after graduation.

James Potter who thanks Lily privately for coming out as gay so he could find you. The love of his life. His missing half. His person.

Sadder Ending:

James Potter who stalls moldy bitch from getting to you and Harry and dies with one last thought in his mind. At least y'all got away.

Yay I know how to post! I'll post Lily and Regulus' soon but not tomorrow I don't want to burn myself out! Don't forget to request or ask for anything I'll be making guidelines soon! 💜

[phangneh]

Voice in the Abyss

✨Manhwa : Into The Light Once Again

✨Elmir royal family x Fem!Reader

✨Warning : princess!reader, lost memory, yandere elements (both platonic and romantic), protect, ... (will add more)

📌Note: this is just a fanfic, there are many details unrelated to the original story line. English is not my native language, if I make grammatical mistakes or use incorrect words, please forgive me.

🎭Summary : You have a voice that is said to change the world, when you sing, your sweet voice makes people happy and all things flourish. One day, your kingdom was destroyed, you had to live with the pain of losing your family and being severely mistreated. But it seems that you will die in misery, there will be people who will come and take you out of the abyss.

"O God, when this song ends, come and take me away"

"Let me live forever, peacefully in your magical arms"

My dear, your voice can change the world...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looks like there's a noise on the ground, you think. But you're not really sure, is it really noise? Or are your ears just imagining for themselves?

It's been a long time, even a little warmth of sunlight you haven't even seen, two years of being confined to a dark underground prison, all your senses and body have been worn out. Dark, cold, snake centipede insects you are also used to.

When will you be freed?

Why aren't you dead yet?

Eventually, you find yourself lying on the moldy, slurping ground. A finger can't move now, is God taking you?

The noise doesn't go away, but at this moment you don't care about it anymore. When you close your eyes, it feels like you're leaning on your mother's lap, and she sings you lullabies. There is the voice of your mother, of your father, of your brothers and sisters, it seems that you are with them.

And then you don't feel anything anymore.

...

You wake up, light creeping into the corner of your eye. Brilliant, and uncomfortable. But it's also warm and comfortable. Your head is blank, strangely enough, you don't have any memories in your head. You can't think of anything, you're so strange around, you wonder where this is, there's a lot of mixed emotions, anxiety, fear, restlessness in you,... Suddenly the door of the room opens, a woman enters and is alarmed to realize you have woken up, she is so shocked that she almost dropped the tray in her hand.

"She's awake!"

She speaks something you don't understand. You're vague, weak, but still aware enough that two people came in later, they both looked in a hurry, and seemed surprised to see you open your eyes. Who's that? Do you know them?

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" A soft voice that you can hear, she speaks a language that you understand, you want to answer, but your throat is too weak to say something.

The owner of the voice was a woman with a gentle and beautiful face, her eyes were like beautiful purple jewels.

She looked very worried... Why?

"Hurry up and call the priest here!" Another voice, but that of the younger girl, they were the same, they both had cloud-white hair, but she had blue eyes... It was like that lake, clear and shining. She was as beautiful as an angel.

"It's going to be fine, you're safe."

You are confused, why are you here, who they are, why are you like this, so many questions in your mind.

What happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Chapter 1]

[Chapter 2]

[Chapter 3]

[Chapter 4]

I hope someone will like it (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[mingtinys]

how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long that the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses it as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two. 

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

[agere-fics]

Doctor Papa

dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄

pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader

characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.

summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.

word count: 1,751

content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything

author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs

♡

Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?

You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.

UGH!

Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.

He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still... At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those were always nice.

While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun. Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.

The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.

“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”

“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.

The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.

“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.

“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”

“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”

Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.

You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.

Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.

At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.

Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.

You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.

“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”

Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”

You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”

Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.

“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”

“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.

“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”

“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.

You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.

Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”

“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”

“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”

You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”

Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.

“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”

That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.

Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”

You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!

“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”

“Papa, he can't hear you!”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”

You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’

“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”

You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.

Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”

You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”

“BEEEEP BRRR-”

“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.

“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”

♡

“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”

You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”

“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”

You traced up your pointer finger.

“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”

You paused at the tip of your finger.

“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”

You traced down your pointer finger.

Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.

“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.

You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”

You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”

Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.

Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.

Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.

Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

BBRRRRRRR

‘It's okay. I'm okay.’

BEEEEEEPPP

‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’

REEEEHHHHHH

‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’

After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.

He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!

You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.

Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!

“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

♡

[bbrissonn]

moldy w a gf who also plays a sport at michigan. i’m just gonna say volleyball cause that’s why i play but he’s like her biggest cheerleader and yelling at anyone who dares to say anything negative abt her OR her team

nick would be like your number one cheerleader. like it's always been your best friend, but even she's shocked at how crazy he goes during games.

warnings: not proofread

under the cut !

"let's go, baby!" nick yelled from his spot in the stands, fully decked out in maize, making it so much easier to for you to spot him. he was finally successful in convincing some of his friends to come with him to your game, and it was safe to say they were shocked at how he was acting.

"moldy, dude, calm down." luca laughed from next to him, some of the other boys nodding along. at the same moment, you hit your serve, the other team unable to get their body behind the ball, giving your team the point. this made your boyfriend stand up from his spot, yelling loudly.

"good job, babe!" he yelled out, clapping his hands with a wide smile. "let me cheer on my girl in peace, would you?" nick mumbled harshly, before once again yelling out encouragements for you.

"think people in ohio can hear you, bud."

"oh, speaking of ohio. im going down there next week for her game, any of you wanna come with?" he asked like it was nothing, his eyes staying focused on you.

"bro, you're insane."

~

once the game was over, all of the boys went home, expect for luca since nick forced him to stay. they were currently waiting for you outside, enjoying the warm weather before winter took over the town.

"luca?"

"mh?"

"do you... do you think i'm like, too intense?" nick wondered. he personally thought he was just being a supportive boyfriend, but after his friend's comments, he wasn't so sure anymore.

"what do you mean?"

"like during y/n's game. am i too much?" his question made the older boy a bit before placing one of his hands on nick's shoulder.

"you want her to thrive in what she does. i am yeah, you were a little loud. but you're happy when you're watching her, that's all that really matter, you know. don't let the guys get to your head." the defenseman spoke. before nick had time to respond, you walked out, rushing into your boyfriend's arms.

"you did amazing, baby. i am so proud of you." the boy mumbled in your ear as his arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

"always do well when my fav cheerleader is in the building, nicky."

taglist <3 @sleepybesson

[beatrixstonehill2]

Veronica smiled as an older man approached her, recognizing him because he was eyeing her ever since she got to the hotel's pool that morning. "Hello, stranger," she said.

"My apologies, I don't mean to stare. That's quite the affliction you have there," the man said.

"Affliction?" Veronica giggled.

"Sorry, I'm Dr. Finch. I treat severe cases of macromastia like yours all the time. Your particular case looks like it's gone untreated for a long while. Is there a reason you haven't had them reduced or removed, as would be my recommendation?"

Veronica blushed. "Wait, you're seriously asking me why I haven't chopped off my awesome natural tits?"

"May I?" the doctor said, stepping forward with his hand out.

Veronica, without hesitating, undid her top and exposed her breasts for everyone at the pool to see, getting a few whistles and cheers. Dr. Finch sat next to Veronica, sensually grabbing her breasts, squeezing and pulling them. Veronica gasped from pleasure, pressing her thighs together. His touch was incredible. "Well? Are they OK?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the doctor said. "It's worse than I feared."

"What's wrong with them?"

"My dear, they're riddled with cancer." He took her hand, making her squeeze her own breast. "Can't you feel all the lumps and all that unhealthy rotting fat?"

Veronica gasped again as he made her grab her own breasts in just the right spots to get her going. "Oh fuck..... wow. Um..... no, I don't feel anything. I love my breasts."

"Don't delude yourself, sweetie. You love these heavy, bloated, tumor-filled fat bags? I mean, I could always have you committed for saying something so preposterous. Then I could take your choice away from you." He made her squeeze her nipple, down and up her breast, grabbing the other one himself.

Veronica's free hand reached for her sex, rubbing it through her bikini. "Fuhhhh...... Um, I mean.... No need for that." Her breaths trembled. "I think I feel them."

"Do you now?" He made her squeeze extra hard as his other hand pulled her nipple cruelly.

"Yes! Um, I feel all the tumors in my breasts, they're totally overrun with cancer. They're basically just a big set of tumors, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I can't quite say they qualify as breasts anymore. Why would they? They're just oversized bouncy tumors full of rotting fat. I'm surprised they aren't covered in sores you aren't scrambling to pick maggots out of every time you 'wear something cute'."

"That's only happened a few times! ..... Um, does that mean they're really diseased they're rotting?"

"Oh, any day now you'll be having sex and the guy you're fucking will grab them and his fingers will sink right into them like a moldy plum. I can picture you profusely apologizing that they aren't that diseased or rotten, they're just falling apart a little."

"Holy fuck! Ummmm...... I....."

"You dirty little slut. Did you just cum, picturing what I said?"

She nodded, silent other than her quivering breaths.

"Pathetic. Come on, my room is on the tenth floor, I have my mobile surgery kit there. If we're lucky I can get these tumors off your chest before they get even more disgusting than they already are."

"Fffffuuuuck...... please, Dr. Finch..... chop off my tumors.... my agent will understand, I hope...."

"What are you, a model or something?"

Veronica nodded. "I have a big shoot tonight......"

"Oh well. Looks like you'll have to tell your fans you needed emergency surgery, that they've been jerking off to a big set of rotting tumors you falsely claimed were a pair of tits. It's honestly quite shameful of you."

Veronica mindlessly fondled her pussy and breast, no help needed from Dr. Finch. "Thank you.... please chop them off!"

"I dunno, you seem to really like these bloated, maggot-filled tumors of yours."

"What? No! I hate them, I want them chopped of ASAP!"

"Well, I am on vacation. Tell you what, set up a livestream and direct all the donations to me, we'll call it a charity stream. You can happily tell all your adoring fans how much yours big fat tumors need to be chopped off. Maybe if you're good I can fuck you afterwards and make you watch them sitting on my table in a trash bag. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much so! I'll even make the trash bag my new profile pic...."

"Good girl. Now let's get you upstairs before you embarrass yourself with those gross things even more."

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Hey there! I really enjoy your posts about our resistant big boy König. I was wondering if you could create some hcs for the reader pampering him and taking care of him. Like maybe he has a stomach ache, so the reader gives him an abdominal massage or something if you’re comfortable with writing something like that. <3

Okay so first, I'm so sorry for being late. I got super busy this week. I've gone on three 6 hour long drives in the past four days. Three!!! I've been travelling north and my lord I'm bouncing all over the place. But, you're not here for me whinging about driving, we're here for the 'RESIDENT BIG BOY'.

I'm taking notes on that one, btw. That one's too good not to use. Resident Big Boy is now the best way to describe him. But yes, I am more than glad to go over some headcannons! König is a very silly man when he gets a bit under the weather, so let's go over why below the cut.

To put it bluntly, König is a big suck. He really is. He's emotionally mature enough to know that he's overreacting, but he's trained to deal with the worst, not mild inconveniences. For him, having a full fever is easier than dealing with a small problem. The worst part of it all is that it's usually self inflicted.

König doesn't really get colds. He also doesn't really get hurt badly (unless he's come back from a mission, but that's another post entirely). He's careful, neat and considerate with his actions. That said, he has these moments where you really have to question how he's still alive.

You see, König has this little saying that he learned from his family. It's his catchphrase, at this point. Horangi groans whenever he hears it. Stilleto puts her head in her hands. Hutch's eyes glaze over as he looks far off into the distance and shakes his head, quietly muttering, "It's not right, man. It's not right." With all these reactions, you might be wondering what exactly is König's favourite catchphrase?

"It's not an expiry date, it's a best by date."

König has had food poisoning many times.

So when König goes on a whole rant about how 'it's not that moldy, just eat around it', the whole company knows to just wait. Almost like clockwork, the only thing König will be eating for the next 24 hours are his words.

When he's sick, he'll go home and he'll make it your problem. His stomach will be cramping, he'll be spewing vomit like a sprinkler, and he'll be stuck in the bathroom for hours at a time. When he crawls out, you'll be there for him.

You'll have to change his bedding religiously for him. He's sweating up a storm over here. Each time you do, he'll thank you profusely and then collapse into bed.

You'll have to change his bucket. He has a designated vomit bucket (he's gotten food poisoning enough to have one marked and ready for the occasion). He'll always thank you and hold your hand. Thankfully, the military forces him to keep short hair so you don't have to hold that back, but he does really appreciate you rubbing his back. Honestly, who doesn't? It's the least you can do for someone turning their stomach inside out.

With his cramps, he'll pretend he's fine but at this point, you probably know better than to believe him when he says it doesn't hurt that much. Instead, get him a nice supply of heat packs for the worst cramps. However, he much prefers you holding him or rubbing his stomach. It's much more comfortable. He's so happy to have someone care for him like this. He might not be able to give back while he's sick, but he won't forget your kindness to him. He'll pay it back three-fold soon enough.

Every time you make him a light soup, every time you carefully feed him a plain salad or some cut fruit, he's delighted. He knows it might be coming back up in less than an hour, but he's grateful for anything you provide him. As long as it's edible, he'll eat it. (Just please remember to stay away from foods that are hard to digest, like protein, dairy and carbs. Maybe some plain toast with his soup is alright, but it's a good idea to give sick people simple food. Just a pro tip.)

He will curl up to you and use you as a blanket when he gets cold. He will soak up your heat like he's in the ice age. He can't get enough of your gentle touches or soft words. He clings to them as he clings to you, a suffocating embrace.

When you are too hot, he'll begrudgingly roll away and kick off all his blankets and sheets. That's a good sign that maybe you can step away and do some household chores for him. The house doesn't clean itself, after all. When he can appreciate your hard work properly, he'll gladly kiss you and hold you close. However for now, he'll just curl up and lay perpendicular to you and lay his head on your abdomen when you get back. He may not be able to kiss you right now, but he'll gladly curl up on the mattress with you.

Sometimes, he might need help walking to and from the bathroom, and that's always an ordeal. Unless you're strong enough, he'll just have you both toppling over in a heap of sickness and sweat. It'll be miserable. Instead, he'll have to force himself to stand a bit so he won't have you losing your balance. When he collapses back in the bed, he'll huff and puff and grumble about the bathroom being too far, but he'll live. Maybe take the time to run your hands through his hair and scratch his scalp. He'd like that quite a bit.

Anyways, I hope these are some decent headcannons! I am most certainly comfortable writing things like this, and you've inspired a post about König getting fully sick, and how to deal with that! I also might make one about him dealing with minor injuries, like stubbing a toe or spraining a muscle while training. I imagine this guy is an amazing survivalist, but his civilian survival skills are akin to that of a lemming.

[cosmicwhoreo]

seeing as ur cookie ocs/children (not sure what to call the little specimens) are,well,cookies-

If you could somehow (really no idea how you would) eat them,would they taste like anything in particular??

Oooooh~! A FUN ONE!!!

And for scale, I'm going to rate the edibility of each of my confectionary darlings on a scale of 1 to 10. starting with...

Horse Apple Cookie- 2/10

Uncomfortably bumpy and bitter, downright unpalatable on the taste buds. I mean... You CAN eat him and not really suffer too much in the long wrong. But nobody would recommend it... And frankly, the constant screaming of conspiracy nonsense and the fact he hasn't showered in two weeks just lowers his grade by like 1 point.

HoneyCrisp Cookie- 9/10

Actually tastes pretty good. Sweet and juicy, almost like a jolly rancher!

Grand Reef Cookie- 1/10

Uuuuuh... Maybe in his prime he tasted like rainbow sherbet ice cream like his colorful corals would lead you to believe. But nowadays...? Raw sewage. Feels and tastes like biting into a moldy apple. Uncomfortably squishy and black, like tar. Guarantee you will get violently ill from trying to eat him... He only gets a point because he will be constantly comforting you and giving all these sympathetic and apologetic pats and hugs the entire time you're puking your brains out from tasting him...

Dr Prawn Cookie- 5/10

Tastes as you'd expect. Shellfishy and meaty. But there is an uncomfortable crunch...

Sea Anemone Cookie- 4/10

Apparently you CAN eat anemones... Weird, but I guess fried anemone is a delicacy to some regions, I don't know. Tastes like shellfish, but she's too smol to really even be considered a light snack. And frankly, why WOULD you wanna eat a face like that? She's just excited to meet a big friend~!

Gold Choco Cookie- 0/10

Several problems would arise trying to chew on Goldie... Firstly, is trying to CHEW him; as his body is roughly 85% hard metal and high voltage wiring. He's hardly even dough at this point... And if you somehow managed to get by that, he tastes like oil and metal and leaves a buzz of static in your mouth. There's only a slight aftertaste of rich chocolate... But you'd have a better experience eating a chocolate-covered floppy disk before cracking a molar on his stale ass...

[fuck-customers]

Desert County Lob Jot person again. I just really have two customers that I had to get off my chest. First the Mattress Karen and then let me tell you about Moldy Spoon Lady.

This lady comes in constantly and tries to return things that she found laying around her house that she doesn't want anymore. Doesn't matter if it a) came from us b) was purchased in the last 30 days or even this year c) is damaged beyond saleability or d) is apparently covered in a thick, stinky layer of mold.

She walks up to the service desk and I've already had an issue with her where she told me not to ring up a box of cookies because she "forgot it yesterday so I already paid for it" and of course she had no receipt that time either. So got upset when I said unless I have proof of this like having management watch the security cameras, I have to charge her for it or she has to leave without it. Shocker: she didn't want the manager doing that.

So this time she has a reusable bag, and so I call out asking if she has a return. She says yes and ohmyGOD when she took her hand off the top rim of the bag and it starting opening...I almost had to run to the bathroom from the smell. It was beYOND foul. Inside the bag was a completely molded wooden cooking spoon. She thought all she had to say was "for some reason this spoon I got from you for $6.99 (I'm sorry...seven dollars for a spoon? In THIS place? Not possible) is completely covered in mold. I can't use it. I need to return it for $6.99". I immediately say we can't do that. I told her we can't take items that are not in resellable condition and she doesn't have the receipt or item tags, so I can't even look it up through her member card. I even tried and showed her my screen to demonstrate. I also informed her that wooden spoons shouldn't be left soaking in water in the sink because this is what happens. I didn't realize that wasn't common knowledge but I've been running into more and more people that didn't know wooden spoons are porous and absorb water still. So I just thought it was harmless advice in case she didn't know, but of course she was insulted.

"You know, I always have problems with you and I've NEVER had problems with anyone here" (she had problems with everyone here)

I tried to just say sorry but I can't take a spoon without proof it's even ours.

"You know, you're bad at your job. EVERYONE says your bad at your job."

Idk what possessed me but I gave a short laugh and said "no they didnt"

"Yes they did!!!" God, what are you, a toddler?

I knew she'd take it more seriously from a manager, so I call an assistant manager over the intercom.

"What if I find the spoon and come up with the bar code?"

I shrug and say "sure go do that". She walks off and when the assistant manager gets up to the desk I tell her the situation and she laughs when she hears who the customer is. She is a regular and a massive pain in the ass. Certifiable. She's been a problem here for a long time apparently and everyone dreads when they see her come in the door.

Moldy walks back up and not only does she have a sort of similar wooden spoon in one hand, she has a 10 pack of wooden spoons in the other. The single is $1.99, the pack was $5.99.

"I can take this $5.99 pack as an exchange for it and then you just give me the dollar back." She was ALREADY putting the pack in her fucking bag. I grabbed it before it could touch the moldy one still in the bag and said nope, she can't have those because we have no proof the original spoon cost $6.99. We definitely wouldn't price it that high.

I and the assistant manager both had the thought to say just take the $1.99 spoon this time but that if she doesn't have a receipt and it's damaged, we can't do anything next time.

Why does this particular chain have the most braindead, absolute lunatics for customers? I've been in retail for 15 years and have never seen people pull the things I've seen here. It's incredible what customers try to get away with here. And it's a BARGAIN OUTLET. We are literally cheaper than anything else around and people still try to get cheaper?

And if they can't get it cheap, they steal it. Whatever. The only theft that bothers me is when people open up food and eat a couple things out of it and put it back on the shelf. Because then that means I have to throw that food out. The amount of food items I constantly have to throw away because people opened them up or take a few bits out of it makes me so angry. Seen as how I've been overdrafting the past couple months I get that everyone is beyond poor now, but jfc do you have to make another poor person deal with your shit? I can't wait to be out of here. Besides the customers having soup for brains here, the past couple days have shown me the underbelly of the management side of things and I don't like it. Definitely won't be coming back.

Posted by admin Rodney

[moonmeg]

Pre-confession, Robyn goes to pick Micah up to go to school together as he's been doing for years. It's part of his routine. Sometimes he buys little snacks for both on his way. One morning Breena informs him that Micah caught the common mold and can't attend school. Worried for Micah and sad that he has to walk alone, Robyn tells Breena to wish Micah a quick recovery. He himself was running late a bit already and couldn't stay to wish it personally.

Breena goes on to give an easy breakfast and a remedy potion to Micah. He eyes the potion cautiously. His mother confirms his theory of it being his grandfather's home remedy. Disgusting in taste and smell but effective. He tries to protest drinking it but it's no use. He grimaces at the taste and comments that if it was edible, even death would taste better. His mother goes through his hair, brushing the strands that fall into his face away to check his temperature. No fever.

"Was Robyn here?", he asks.

"Aye. He wishes ye a quick recovery."

She fixes his blanket and pillows before telling him to eat a little and rest. If anything happens, he's to send Lissa to fetch her or Neil. Micah hums in agreement.

A few hours later, there's a knocking on his window. His curtains are closed. He doesn't know who would be knocking there but Lissa jumps to open them. The sunlight blinds him at first and he only sees a blur but then he sees... Robyn?

He draws a spell circle to open the window. Robyn climbs in with a "hi" and almost trips over the carpet.

"Stealthy as always.", Micah comments dryly.

"It's the carpet.", Robyn argued.

"Course it is."

"Brushing my not-so-elegant entry aside-"

"Could ye close the window first, please?"

"Right, sorry."

Robyn turns and does so. He draws the curtain close a little before he continues. "My stealthy entry aside, how are you?", he steps closer to Micah's bed and lightly stumbles over the carpet again.

"Don't come close to me. Dinna want ye to catch this shite too."

"That wasn't my question.", Robyn grins and deliberately ignores what he was just told as he sits down on the bed.

Micah stares in disbelief for a moment. He shuffles away in the opposite direction of where Robyn is sitting to create the distance his best friend didn't seem to intend keeping.

"If ye're sick next week, it's yer own fault."

"I'll be fine.", Robyn chuckles, "Now answer my simple question."

"Eh typical common moldy.", Micah shrugs, "Can't really breathe through either nostril, coughing a bit, ye know the rest."

Robyn eyes Micah attentively. He is pale, more than usual, yet his face seems tinted red.

"Did you eat?", he asked.

"Mhm."

Robyn does the same as Breena before: he brushes the red curls from Micah's forehead aside to place his hand on it for a few seconds. Micah shudders lightly at the touch. Robyn's hand is so cold. It has something relieving about it after the first contact. He's been feeling too warm since this morning and the cool of Robyn's hand feels quite pleasant. He closes his eyes for the moment.

"You're hot-WARM! You're too warm, I mean.", Robyn removes his hand from Micah's forehead, "Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

Micah hums a "mh-mh" in disagreement this time.

"Did your mother check for that?"

"Mhm."

"How long is that ago?"

"This morning. Shortly after ye left."

"That's six hours!", Robyn exclaims with a hush of worry in his voice.

He looks around the room for a piece of cloth until he found something adequate enough. He takes out his notebook and rips a piece of paper out. He jumps to the page where he had copied those glyphs from his father's research to trace them. Their design is still rather new to him and aside from the fact they're all circles he barely rememberes anything else about them. Robyn activates the small ice glyph with a tap and wraps the cloth around it.

"Don't keep it on your head too long, that might undercool you too much. No longer than a few minutes.", Robyn instructs as he places the cool cloth on Micah's forehead. He looks down and catches Micah's tired eyes. Even in this circumstance they were so pretty. He was so pretty still. Robyn smiles softly but is quickly drawn out of his admiration again.

"Oh! Almost forgot why I came here in the first place!"

He rummages about in his school bag, obviously searching something. Micah watches perplexed until Robyn finally pulls out a small bag of flakes and a little glass container with a liquid inside. He places the items on Micah's night stand with an explanation: "I bought flakes this morning for us to share. Your favorite. Since you're sick though I kept them for later. Also a little remedy from potion class-"

"Ye made remedies today?"

"No, the task was something completely different but I thought I'd use the opportunity to make you one! The teacher didn't like it but what else is new?"

Micah prepped up on his elbow, took the container and inspected it a little. He removed the lid and instead of a bitter smell remedies usually have about them, this one was... sweeter. At least he thought to identify a sweeter smell through his blocked nostrils.

"It's not a high quality thing but it should help a little. I tried to cover the taste with some berries but I'm not sure how much that succeeded. I just hope it's helpful to your recovery somehow."

Micah looked up at Robyn and smiled uttering a "Thank you. Ye're so sweet."

Robyn chuckled again.

"I just want you to be back in school quicker."

"Did I miss a lot?", Micah put the container back and lied down on his pillow. He turned his body towards Robyn and looked at him with half closed eyes, listening in to what Robyn started telling.

He only understood half of what Robyn was talking about, his body aching for more sleep but he let Robyn talk. He loved listening to his voice. Listening to Robyn was nice and comfortable... calming. Even with the cracks here and there. Micah had no consciousness of time. He had no idea how long Robyn had been talking already, he simply allowed himself to bathe in the bliss.

"Mikey?", Robyn asked softly.

"Hm?"

"Should I go?"

His eyes open again, ripped out of his calm.

"No! No, please, stay!", Micah reaches to grab Robyn's wrist hastily.

"You're tired. I'm keeping you from resting with my blabbering."

"I'm listening! Ye're not keeping me from anything!"

"Micah..."

"Keep talking! As much as ye want! I like it when ye do."

Robyn yields and continues on with a sigh. His talking is a lot softer now. Just above a whisper in volume. Micah tries to keep his eyes open at first but the common mold and the fever has taken most of his energy. After a few minutes Robyn feels the grip on his wrist loosen. He looks over to Micah to check and sees him sleeping. He smiles, squeezes his hand and rises from the bed.

"Come on, Snowball. Time to go home.", he whispers and exits the same way he came in. He glances over his shoulder one more time to check on Micah and then he's gone.

[mawrrbid]

Touchstarved incorrect quotes as shit I and my friends said (without any context) - pt.5

pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3 - pt.4

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

MC : How would you call an anxious person without adrenaline? Leander : That's a good question... Ais : A corpse.

--

Mhin (probably talking to MC) : You're basically cheese, moldy, but still good.

--

Leander : Welcome to the Alcoholics Anonymous. Kuras : No... Leander : Oh yeah right, we're not anonymous.

--

MC : You're not a coffee table. Leander : But I can be as high as one. ;)

--

Vere : Is there anything that's not shoved up your ass? Mhin : Dicks, I don't like dicks. Vere : That's because they're in mine.

--

Ais : Oh wait I haven't sent you pics of Penis in a while! MC : AIS NO-