#but i am also too sick to be half as stubborn as i need to be

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 15: "Who decided __ is sick people food?"

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Mingyu (cold)

Caregiver(s): Wonwoo

Word Count: 817

Notes: Better late than never!!! Based very, very lightly on the last time I was majorly sick, and called my mom in tears, and she brought me three different flavors of soft serve ice cream from Dairy Queen: one to eat while she was there, and two for later. Cheers, Mom! Also, there's a follow up to this for Day 19... which is still in the works...

The thing about being roommates for so long was that there were absolutely no secrets between them anymore. So when Mingyu’s attempted to squirm away from Wonwoo when the older rapper hugged him upon returning home from a solo photoshoot, it was the last red flag Wonwoo needed to conclude that his best friend was indeed sick. 

He’d had his suspicions since he’d woken up (he’d had the pleasure of hearing Mingyu toss and turn and sniffle all night, perks of being roommates), but had waited for further confirmation to confront Mingyu about it. Because an unwell Mingyu was a stubborn Mingyu; confront him too early, and he’d refuse all help. And Mingyu was the type of patient who required the help of others. For as thoughtful as he was when it was someone else in need, he was hopeless bad at self care. 

So Wonwoo needed to tread carefully here. 

“Heeey,” he singsonged after Mingyu had wiggled out his embrace. He casually moved towards his own bed, taking off his jacket and sitting down to remove his shoes. “How are you?” He kept his voice cool. 

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m fine, same as last time I saw you, what, three hours ago?” One of Wonwoo’s eyebrows arched skeptically at the sound of Mingyu’s huskier than usual, definitely congested voice. The younger man smiled like nothing was wrong. “How are you? How was the shoot?” 

Wonwoo waved him off. “Same old, same old. You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” He looked off down at the floor, hands shoved in his pockets of his sweatpants. He had his shoulders hunched every so slightly. Conserving warmth, Wonwoo noted. 

“Nah, I don’t think it’s weird when you were up half the night.” Mingyu’s attention snapped back to Wonwoo, his face melting into the most pitiful look of guilt. Wonwoo withheld the smile from his face. “We share a room, Gyu. I always know.” 

Mingyu shivered, and Wonwoo clicked his tongue, patting the space next to him on his bed. Mingyu, surprisingly, rose from his desk chair and sat down next to Wonwoo, allowing himself to be pulled against Wonwoo’s side, head on his shoulder. 

“You want my hoodie?” Wonwoo asked, voice quiet for only Mingyu to hear. 

Mingyu shook his head. “Then you’ll be cold…”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, dummy. I’m not the one running a fever.”

“I’m not…”

“I can feel your skin, love. You’re running hot.” 

“I’m always hot.” Mingyu squealed when Wonwoo pinched his side. “Am I wrong, though?” Wonwoo rolled his eyes, pulling Mingyu closer as the younger boy giggled at his own joke. Mingyu’s body remained tense against him. “You’re gonna get sick too.”

“Babe. We share a room and you’re allergic to covering your mouth. I’m getting sick whether I like it or not. And pouting about it isn’t going to change that.” Mingyu quickly schooled his expression, Wonwoo smirking affectionately and pinching his cheek, much to Mingyu’s dismay. But the younger man did finally accept Wonwoo’s embrace, melting against his shoulder. They sat in silence for a bit, Mingyu mindlessly playing with a string on his sweatpants as Wonwoo simply existed in the moment.

Their quiet time was broken by a knock at the door.

“Wonwoo-ah?”

They looked up to see Hoshi leaning around the doorway with two bowls of… ice cream? 

“What’s going on?” Mingyu asked, eyeing the dance leader suspiciously as he drew closer after Wonwoo nodded at him. 

“Wonwoo texted that you weren’t feeling well, and asked me to bring you something to make you feel better.” As Hoshi explained, he held out one of the small bowls of plain vanilla ice cream. 

Mingyu looked down at the bowl, then up at Wonwoo. “Since when is ice cream ‘sick people food?’”

The older man shrugged. “Since forever.”

“But isn’t ice cream bad for your throat?”

“Only if you’re singing. But it’s actually really good for when you have a sore throat.” Wonwoo smiled. He touched his own throat for emphasis. “The milk coats everything, and the cold soothes the pain. My parents always let me have a little ice cream when I wasn’t feeling well, so I can personally vouch for its healing powers.” 

“I second that prescription,” Soonyoung said. He gave the bowl a tiny shake, prompting Mingyu to take it. “A little sugar never hurt nobody.” Mingyu finally took the ice cream from Soonyoung, taking a tiny, careful bite. Soonyoung then held the second bowl out to Wonwoo, promising he’d be right back with his own bowl. 

“Thank you, Woo,” Mingyu said softly as soon as Hoshi had ducked out of the room. 

Wonwoo smiled. “Anytime, love. Just promise to be nice to me when I inevitably catch this.”

“Deal.” Mingyu held up his bowl, and Wonwoo tapped it in their own personal cheers.

[gay-dorito-dust]

So like, hear me out, bill can get drunk from like alcohol, (or something weird inter dimensional drink) but either way he can get drunk like a human. Does that also mean he can get sick? Can you make a bill x reader where reader is taking care of Bill while he's sick and it's basically just:

reader: lie the fuck down man, your sick as shit

Bill: NO, I DON'T *NEED* REST, I'M AN ALL SEEING GOD WITH INFINITE POW- *fucking passes out*

‘Bill please go back to bed.’ You groaned for what felt like the tenth time that day when you saw the floating silhouette of the triangular demon from the doorway

‘No! I’m not like you flesh bags! I don’t get sick!’ He says as he then proceeds to cough an abnormal amount, to say that Bill’s coughing fit sounded like the pits of hell opening up was an understatement, you still remembered that he sent someone insane when they accidentally saw his endoskeleton when he was eating. Even the thought of that made you uneasy and a little queasy.

‘Well what would you call that?’ You replied sarcastically as you moved to look at him, unimpressed when you saw he had draped himself with the blanket you gave him like he was fighting off the cold within him, and wearing blue striped pyjamas all the while his eye/mouth was half lidded and almost lifeless looking. In that moment Bill cipher didn’t look like the all knowing and powerful demon, but instead a sick little puppy that was too stubborn to listen to commands from someone else.

‘Realising the demons.’ Bill snarled, he moved to look at what you were doing that was so important that it made you leave the bed so early. ‘What’re you doing, aren’t you supposed to be serving me like you flesh bags should?’ He then asked as he floated to your side to stare down at the pot of soup as though it had insulted him. ‘I’m making you soup for your sick little self your ungrateful shit.’ You said as you gently pushed him aside so that you could make sure that you weren’t burning the soup by overindulging him with your attention.

‘Has it got deer teeth in it?’ Bill then asks, his voice was rough from all the coughing and he looked at though he winced with every words, and without hesitation you offered him a soothing cherry cough sweet, and for once Bill didn’t fight you on this and popped it into his eye/mouth, letting you knew it was indeed bad if the dream demon wasn’t putting much of a fight about being treated as though he was weaker.

‘Unfortunately no it does not have deer teeth in it, besides I don’t know what the boiling point of deer teeth would be, if they had one.’ You tell him as you began to ladle some of the soup into a small bowl. But before you could blink, bill snapped his fingers and soon enough there was a layer of small, half melted deer teeth on top of his soup. You looked over at him just to see him shrug beneath the blanket you gave him.

‘Deer teeth makes everything better, you flesh bags are so far behind on the times.’ Bill said condescendingly as he made some deer teeth appear in his small hands but before he could eat one of them, you were quick to snatch them away from him as he cried out in surprise. ‘Give them back!’

‘Not until you eat your soup and go back to bed.’ You told him sternly as you held the packet of deer teeth away from the whiney sick dream demon that was currently pressing himself up against the side of your face.

‘Which one do you want me to do? Bed or soup, you humans are so unnecessarily confusing.’ Bill whines again but this time he couldn’t find the strength to keep himself floating as soon he was resting in the crook of your arm, fighting back the need for sleep out of a necessity to prove that he was above such a thing as illness, but found himself snuggling up to your warmth more so then ever. ‘I am the almighty bill cipher and I will not..not let this…illness get the better of the dream demon.’ He murmurs to himself and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he could be when he’s not making your life a living hell.

‘Sure you are, now let’s get you to bed your stubbornness.’ You said as you carried bill in one arm and his deer teeth laced soup in the other after you finished up ladling his soup and putting the pot in the sink to wash at a later date, before making your way back up to your room as Bill murmurs threats as he looks up at you with a half hearted glare.

‘I could end you weakling, I really could so I wouldn’t try me.’ He would say but with his sore voice, blanketed form, and striped pyjamas, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being intimidated by a sick puppy.

‘I know you can.’ You replied.

‘Don’t mock me.’ Bill whines once more as he threw a weak punch to your bicep with his small hand. ‘I am not needing anyone to look after me, I can do it by myself.’ He adds as though flaunting his hyper independence.

‘I’m not mocking you, I’m helping you and secondly that didn’t even hurt, and thirdly what do you normally do when get sick?’ You asked as when you arrived to your room you placed bill down on the bed, setting the soup aside on the bedside table as you tucked bill tightly beneath the covers. The triangle demon shrugs as he feels his mind becomes foggy with the need to sleep, he hasn’t felt this weak in a long, long time and now here he was being pampered and looked after by someone he deems weaker by comparison; He hates it but there wasn’t much energy left in him to do anything other than sleep.

‘Nothing because I’m not of a weakling species like you.’ He replied and you scoffed.

‘Sounds about right, anyways go to sleep and you can have your cold ass deer teeth soup when you wake up.’ You told him as you stood up to leave the room, only to feel a little hand grab ahold of your shirt but as you looked at him to say something, bill was already asleep but his grip on your shirt was tight. So you sat yourself down on the chair by the bed, trying to make yourself feel comfortable before falling asleep yourself, knowing the this scenario will repeat until the bastard felt better again.

So until then, you could rest without having the worry that a floating Dorito chip wasn’t going to faint on you anytime soon.

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑨 𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑶𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒛𝒐𝒏

Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: After you and Seonghwa planned a date, he unfortunately falls ill the day of the events. But you two still find a way to make the most of a bad situation.

WC: 2k

CW: Sick fic, fluffy, so fluffy, lots of fluffy, crying, comfort, cuddles, kisses, lots of fluff and Animal Crossing

AN: Oh wow, another sick fic, your bias is showing, Cheeto. /j

No, but in truth, I've had this in the drafts for over a month and a half and finally wrote it all in a sprint to get myself out of this writing slump I've been in. I guess you all will be the judge of if I managed to put out something of good quality.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, as always!

Tag List: @cherrycel @mxnsxngie @malldreamprincess @asjkdk

You gently held your boyfriend’s burning cheek as you placed the thermometer into his ear. You watched the little screen as you pressed the button, and only a few seconds later, it lit up and beeped in a panicked manner. 

You let out a soft sigh of disappointment, while Seonghwa let out a pained whine as he covered his face with his hands. This was a rare day, in which Seonghwa was free from his busy idol life, and you two had planned to go to dinner to spend time with each other. 

But as luck would have it, he’d awoken that morning to a pounding headache and body aches, and his now confirmed fever of over 100. The universe decided you weren’t having your dinner date tonight, and had to tell you in the rudest way possible. 

You put the thermometer back into its box as you got up from his bed. “I guess I’ll go get you an ice pack and some medicine,” you said dejectedly, leaving the room on a mission to get said items. 

A sigh left your lips as you pulled the ice pack from the freezer. It wasn’t Seonghwa’s fault he got sick, but that probably made it worse. The one day you had together, the first day in months, was ruined by something neither of you could possibly control. 

Frustration crept in as you grabbed the bottle of medicine from the bathroom cabinet, accidently knocking another bottle over in the process. Another sigh left you as you put the bottle back up, muttering curses that would make a sailor blush. 

Despite his fever, you were still planning to stay and take care of Seonghwa. That is, if he wasn’t stubborn and told you he’d be fine on his own. As much as it annoyed you, you did the same thing, so it was a mutual annoyance between you two. 

“Hwa, I have-” You began to say as you walked back into his bedroom, but stopped when you saw Seonghwa with his head in his hands, softly crying. 

You put both items on his desk and rushed over to sit in front of him, gently putting your hands on his arms, all frustration instantly leaving your body in favor of worry. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, still keeping his face covered. “I know you were excited about this, and you waited so long, I’m-” 

“Baby, shh,” you cut him off, pulling his hands away from his face. His face was even more red than before, almost like a cartoon character. You couldn’t help but pout at the sight, and quickly grabbed the ice pack to press it against his cheek. Seonghwa gratefully leaned into the cool touch, his eyes falling closed as he did. 

“I’m not mad,” you continued. “Well, I am, but it’s not your fault.” 

“But now we can’t go out.” He paused and sniffled, grabbing a tissue and wiping his nose. “And if you stay here, you’ll get sick.” 

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice.” 

Seonghwa shook his head. “You have to work too-”

“And I’ll call off if I need to.” You reached up with your other hand and held his burning face, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Even if we can’t go out, we still have the day to be together. I’d rather spend it taking care of you than not being with you at all.” 

Seonghwa smiled, but it was a weak one that didn’t reach his eyes. Of course he was grateful for you, and the help you were willing to give him. But he also knew that he’d feel incredibly guilty in a few days when you would wake up feeling like he did right now. 

But when he looked into your eyes, and saw the love in them, and the little smile you were giving him as you held the ice pack against his face, he didn’t have it in him to tell you to leave. 

And the idea of watching you leave when he could barely get out of bed on his own made his heart shatter. 

So Seonghwa nodded and reached up to hold your hand. “Then please, stay.” 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, tokki.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up at the name. This time, his smile was big and genuine. You pressed a kiss to his warm, slightly damp forehead before you pulled back to get the bottle of medicine. Seonghwa took the ice pack and pressed it against the rest of his face, trying to spread the cool feeling as far as he could. 

Seonghwa gratefully accepted the dose of medicine you gave him, even though he gagged at the taste of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at the face he made. He just pouted and put the ice pack back on his forehead. 

You leaned back down and smoothed his damp hair back as he did. “I can make you some tea if you want,” you offered, to which he gratefully nodded as he closed his eyes. 

“Yes please,” he breathed. He adjusted himself to lay back down on the pillows and pull the blanket up to his chest, one hand still keeping the ice pack on his forehand. 

With that, you went on another mission to make your boyfriend a cup of tea. 

As you did, you passed your things you’d left on the kitchen counter, one of them being the case which held your Nintendo Switch. You and Seonghwa had planned to play Animal Crossing together after your dinner date. 

And suddenly, at that moment, you had an idea of how to save your date night. 

You walked back into Seonghwa’s room, his tea in one hand, your Switch in the other, with a huge smile on your face. Seonghwa’s eyebrows went down as he looked at you, but his whole face lit up when he saw the Switch in your hand. 

The two of you wasted no time getting both your games set up, and also getting comfortable. You crawled up onto Seonghwa’s bed to sit on his left side and slid underneath his blanket to cuddle up to him. 

“Are we going to your island or mine?” Seonghwa asked as his game finished loading. His little character came out of his house as the chimes played, dressed very nicely in formal clothes. 

You smiled to yourself as you made your character run across your island. “I want you to come to mine, I have something set up.” 

“You set something up for this?” 

“I did, you have to come look.” You ran into your island’s airport to open the gate so Seonghwa could see the surprise you’d spent days working on. 

Seonghwa excitedly made his character start running across the island, but suddenly stopped, and ran back towards his house. You looked up at his TV to see what he was doing, but Seonghwa waved his hand to make you look away. 

“Don’t look, I have a surprise for you too!” 

“Okay, I won’t look!” You said with a giggle, looking back down at your own Switch as you finished opening the gate. 

It was only a few minutes later that Seonghwa had arrived on your island. You used a little wave emote as his character stepped out of the airport, to which he did it back. 

“So where’s this surprise?” He asked, walking off of the little wooden dock. 

“I’ll show you.” You began walking through your island, of which you and Seonghwa had done many times before. You two had helped each other build your islands, trading items, sending gifts, helping each other cheat the natural progression of the game just because you could. 

You two were connected through this game. It was a part of your relationship just like any other. It held a special place in your heart, and it made you smile when you’d go back and watch clips of you two together, chasing each other with various tools, or messing with the other villagers. 

You and Seonghwa finally made your way to a part of the island away from all the other houses and buildings. Seonghwa gasped when he saw it come into view, and your heart swelled as a smile spread across your face. 

There was a gated garden, with trees and flowers of every kind everywhere. A custom dirt path led you through the various flora, with paper lanterns along the sides to light your way. There were statues in small clearings, and small streams separated the different sections from each other. 

You and Seonghwa followed the path until you came to a table with two chairs. The table had a candle and two meals sitting on top of it, with the moon hanging in the sky behind it and the sky full of stars. 

“Sweetheart,” Seonghwa whispered, staring at the TV as he slowly walked around and looked at everything. “You made this for tonight?” He looked at you, and you couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. 

“I did,” you said softly. “I made it for you.” 

Seonghwa smiled, but it quickly turned to a pout, and he put his controller down to hug you. You dropped your Switch onto the blanket and hugged him back. 

“I love you.” His voice was hoarse and soft. You slowly rubbed his back as you heard him sniffle again. “You’re wonderful.” 

“I love you too, tokki.” 

You two stayed like that for a while. With your two characters standing beside each other in the garden you made, with the soft ambient noises of the insects and water, the gentle music alongside it as you two were wrapped in each other’s arms in the real world, you knew love could never be felt like this by anyone else. 

Love is an incredibly unique thing, and a love like this couldn’t ever be explained to anyone else. The greatest poets in the world could write about love for centuries to come, but the love you both felt in that moment would pale in comparison to anything anyone could write. 

Seonghwa eventually let you go to rub his eyes. You leaned your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arm around his. He relaxed into you as he reached for his controller. 

“I’d kiss you if I wasn’t sick.” 

“Kiss me anyway.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Do I have to beg?”

“No, that won’t work on me today.” 

You both broke into giggles as you made your way back to the table. Both your characters took the food off the table, and sat across from each other. You both ate the food, as you would in real life. 

You were ready to leave your Switch, but then Seonghwa got up from the chair and walked over to yours. You suddenly remembered the surprise he had for you, and jumped out of your chair to pick the item he dropped in front of the table. 

“Aww, Hwa,” you whined as you read the item name in your inventory: A chocolate heart. “You can only get this during Valentine’s-” 

“Yep.” He smiled and put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close as he could get you. “I held onto it for a moment like this.” 

You put your Switch to the side and cuddled back up to him, giving him a cheek kiss before laying your head on his shoulder. He kissed your head and he squeezed you gently. 

“Saranghae, jagiya,” Seonghwa whispered, his body melting into yours as he held you close. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back. 

You both eventually adjusted to laying back down on the bed, leaving the game on as you two began to drift off to sleep. Like before, the soft sounds of Animal Crossing worked like a lullaby to relax you both, and send you off to a sweet slumber. 

Seonghwa watched his and your character idle together as he played with your hair. He smiled as he looked at the beautiful garden you’d made once more before his eyes fell shut, and he let himself fall into dreams of you.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[dufferpuffer]

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

[inmyminditsreal]

You're sweeter than cough syrup

Sick!reader x spencer reid

Word count: 573

Summary: You're sick at home, and Spencer takes care of you despite you being stubborn

Fluff!!

You’re lying in bed, feeling horrible, and wishing Spencer was there. You can't believe that you have a cold. Sniffling your way through the hours and watching some dumb reality TV show. Spencer went out to get you things, and It has only been 15 minutes since he left. Suddenly, Spencer calls out to you,

“Hey sweetheart, are you still in bed?”

You groan, “Mmm-yea.” and realize how hoarse your voice is.

“Oh honey- you look so sick.” He says, walking into the room.

You grumble back, “It's almost like I am.”

“I brought you some soup, also flowers, even if you can’t smell them - and snacks.” He says while smiling.

He places the things down, walks up and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You smile, then respond,

“I love you so so much but- what's all this for? What's your angle..?”

You melt at the thought of him going to the store and buying you your favorite snacks, but you know he has some tricks up his sleeve.

“Well…I have some medicine. Nothing bad, just NyQuil.”

“No way,” You reply. You hate the taste of NyQuil, he knows that.

He opens the wrapper, lays down next to you, and holds the poison up to your mouth.

“No no no. It’s going to take more than this to get me to drink that.”

He scoffs, “Oh come on, you know Nyquil Cold and Flu is a combination medication containing acetaminophen, dextromethorphan, and doxylamine Dextromethorphan is a cough suppressant. It affects the cough reflex in the brain that triggers coughing. Doxylamine is an antihistamine that reduces the effects of the natural chemical histamine in the body. Histamine can produce symptoms of sneezing, itching, watery eyes, and runny nose.”

“How on earth does that help me?” You reply, secretly impressed.

He whispers, “ It doesn’t but, what do you want, hmm? Anything.”

“I dunno.” You respond.

“How about..this,” He says softly before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “is that enough?”

You turn your head away and pout, “Nope!”

He puts the medicine down and says “Hmm, what about….this,” He says while cupping your cheeks and peppering kisses all over your face and down your neck.

You fight away your smile but eventually say, “Fine, that worked.”

He picks up the cough syrup and gently holds your chin. You swallow the syrup and shake your head in disgust. He sits down in the bed next to you and wraps his arms around you.

You lay your head on his shoulder. You grab some chocolate and start eating.

“You really didn’t have to do all this, you know. You're just lucky you're sweeter than cough syrup.” you say.

“I know but the thought of you here all alone, sick. I hate it. I love you way too much to allow that.” He replies and snuggles into you. You move your head from his shoulder down to his chest and wrap your arms around him.

“You’re so cute, especially when you’re sick.” He mutters.

“No way, I look like a zombie.” You say back.

“What? No way. You look beautiful.”

“Well if you say so, you look cute too.” You smile back

He chuckles, lifts your hand and kisses it softly.

“Get some rest, you really need it.” He says.

“Yeah yeah okay, Love you.” You whisper.

You were already half asleep but him hugging you tighter sent you instantly into sleep.

You’re honestly glad you got sick.

[hopelessromantic5]

The note I have written for this one is:

Enemies to Lovers. Except not really. More like annoyances to lovers.

(I think I was delirious because it was 3 AM, regardless, enjoy the clip ❤️)

Also, this one made me actually cry laughing while writing, but as previously stated, I should’ve been asleep. Most likely hysterical.

“He’s the most arrogant man I’ve ever met!” Merlin seethed. “He’s spoiled and bossy and stubborn as a mule! I can’t believe that stupid dragon ever talked me into saving his royally ungrateful life!” Merlin was shouting to the room at large as soon as his foot passed over the threshold and by the time he was done screaming insults, his bedroom door slammed behind him.

Gaius stood shocked, amused, and worried, all at once. Those boys did puzzle him sometimes.

More angry noises and crashes could be heard from the other side of the wooden door.

The old man didn’t want to know what a scene it was.

He quickly packed his supplies and left for the forrest to gather. It’s a nice day for it, he thought.

Beyond the door was chaos. As expected. Merlin had slammed just about every object in the room against the wall as hard as he could until it was one big pile of brokenness.

Stupid, pompous Prince that couldn’t be touched, lest Merlin cease to have hands.

But Arthur could degrade, bully and throw things at Merlin all he pleased. Even when Merlin was trying to help him!

Maybe Merlin just wouldn’t go tomorrow. He’d fake sick. He just needed a day. A single day without horse mucking and sword polishing. A single day without seeing that idiotically charming face practically spitting orders at him, like he was some kind of hound.

Maybe I am, he thought, in more ways than one.

Well, tomorrow.

Tomorrow was Merlin’s first official day off.

He went to sleep with a small satisfied smile on his face.

Gaius really was just trying to grow old, mend people, and keep the peace.

Unfortunately, peace was not something Gaius would say he saw very much anymore, not since Merlin arrived.

“I don’t feel well, Gaius.” Merlin mumbled from under the blankets. “I’m not going today.” He waved his mentor away.

“Merlin-“

“Gaius, please.” Merlin begged.

Gaius knew how he felt. A young man, trapped in circumstances for which he never asked.

The healer reluctantly sighed.

“You know Arthur isn’t going to take this well.”

“Yes, well. I’ll cross that bridge when I see its ugly face.”

With another sigh, Gaius closed the door and left the boy to rest.

Gaius should’ve suspected it was too easy. There was not so much as a whisper as he made his breakfast and prepared it as he did every other day, leaving Merlin’s out for if he wished to eat it, later.

The physician had just loaded up a spoonful of porridge and raised it halfway to his mouth when the front door burst open, scaring him half to death and causing him to fling the utensil halfway across the room, in a jolt.

Instead of the apology that should’ve awaited Gaius as he glared up in ire, instead he was met with an irate prince storming through his chambers as if the old man were not even there. Much the same way a raven haired boy had done yesterday.

Two sides of the same coin indeed. He thought.

Arthur burst into the bedroom and yelled something Gaius didn’t catch on his way out the door, porridge bowl in hand.

He hoped his own day was less eventful than poor Merlin’s.

Unfortunately, Merlin had to cross the bridge much earlier than he thought.

“I think you’ve slept long enough, Merlin! Just because you consider your duties unimportant does not mean the rest of us have the luxury of doing so!” The prince was yelling at top volume, standing in Merlin’s chambers and Merlin’s blood was practically boiling. “This morning I had to have a guard, of all people, go fetch my breakfast, and then I had to dress myself-“

“Oh, and we all know how daunting a task that is for you, sire. Do you hear yourself when you talk sometimes? Honestly! I have done nothing but slave away for you since the day your father ‘gifted’ this job to me as if it were some prize! This,” he waved his arms around to the surrounding room, “today. This is my day off. I’ve been in your service for months and I’ve never been granted a single day to just be! To sit in this bed and do nothing all day! Cook gets a day off every fortnight , the maids, Gwen! Gwen gets multiple days off just because Morgana is generous without involving Uther. And yet, I am worked like a dog by you and every other selfish, mean, unthinking entity in the world!” He huffed and took in Arthur’s expression. Which was mostly shock. He had not been expecting an outburst, obviously.

As far as his reaction, Merlin could not discern which miserable torturous punishment lie ahead of him but he knew he would smell horrible afterwards.

Arthur was still just looking at him after a few seconds before dropping his gaze to his feet, chewing the inside of his lip.

“As much as it pains me to say it, Merlin, I think you may be right.”

Merlin hardly believed his own ears, and immediately blurted a response.

“What?”

“It’s unfair to not give you the same time as everyone else. I apologize. I was, as you put it, unthinking.” The Prince shuffled his weight between feet, a sign Merlin has come to recognize as nervousness, maybe shame.

“Starting today, every fortnight you are to take a day.” He nodded once, still not meeting Merlin’s eye again, and headed for the door.

“I will see you tomorrow.” He said with his back turned.

“Yes, sire.” Merlin answered quietly, partly out of habit and partly because all of his anger had quickly burnt up the second he saw the look on Arthur’s face.

He was glad to have his day off, but he hated to ever make Arthur feel that way.

When Merlin really thought about it, he wasn’t tortured or beaten (unless Arthur smacking him in the head counts), he was permitted access to most places in the castle without question, and sometimes Arthur would intentionally leave more food on the tray than he would have, just so Merlin could have his leftovers. Which were always heavenly. Cook must have really loved the golden prince.

Merlin scurried back under the blankets with a deep sigh as he contemplated just how good he had it in Camelot. And how Arthur, with all his yelling and roughhousing, really had good intentions. He was to be King, after all. The Once and Future King. Surely he must have a good heart.

Merlin knew he had a good heart. But there were several reasons that the sorcerer needed to plant the seed of doubt in his own mind.

One of them being; he felt himself getting too comfortable.

That only spelled disaster.

[goldenempyrean]

sick!reader x natasha where nat gets home from a month long mission and learns from their friends that reader is miserable with a cold. however the spy knows how stubborn you are and wants to see how long you can pretend you’re fine until you accept being taken care of

Everything's Gonna Be Okay

Oh damn, this was meant to be a short little fic... Well here I am 3 and a half hours after starting... Oops, ALSO! I did actually edit this, I know, Im shocked too dw. (Pls for the love of God and my sanity ignore any mistakes i've missed.)

Summary: Natasha's been away for so long. Shes finally coming home, nothing can go wrong. Only it does, of course it does.

Wordcount: 3580

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Natasha gave a much-needed sigh of relief as she finally stepped onto solid ground, she never thought she’d ever be so happy to be home again. Nat had been sent away on a long deep-undercover mission and in total she had been away for about a month, however as of the nature of the mission, keeping in close-contact wasn’t possible. The only communication you received was via small hand-written letters, and they meant the world to you. though they were small you’d kept ahold of every one, keeping them safely tucked in your bedside drawer, re-reading them before you’d turn in to sleep each night. 

Which is why you had been so excited for Nat’s return; you’d even deep cleaned your shared bedroom so everything would be perfect for her arrival. Nothing should’ve gone wrong. If only everything went how you’d planned... 

~~~ ~~~ 

You’d gone to bed a little later that night, feeling a little more tired than usual, you wanted to have plenty of energy for tomorrow. That’s probably when you woke up that next morning, your body washed with fatigue and the feeling of a migraine settling in, you felt your eyes grow teary. How could this happen today? Of all days for you to get sick, why today? 

No. You pulled yourself from the bed, as you stood a wave of dizziness fell over you, sending you scrambling to grip the bedpost to steady yourself, ignoring your body's cries to remain laying down. You gave yourself a moment to adjust before forcing yourself to remake the bed behind you. There was no time to be sick today. 

You tried to sniffle, but you couldn’t. Now that you thought about it, you had been breathing through your mouth the whole morning. You twitched your nose and sniffled again, trying to get some air through your nose to no avail. You rolled your eyes, could today get any worse?  

You regretted asking yourself that question a second later when you found yourself pulling off Nat’s red hoodie (the one you’d been sleeping in for the past week) feeling an uncomfortable warmth begin to settle over you. Maybe a shower would help, you thought before making your way over to your bathroom. 

Stepping into the tiled room, you turned on your shower and waited for it to get warm, feeling dizzy again, you put your hands on the counter to steady yourself and looked up at the mirror. You felt yourself physically cringe at the sight. God, saying you looked awful would be a huge understatement, your eyes had dark circles beneath them, it looked like you hadn't slept in weeks.  

The mirror slowly began to fog up, reminding you of the shower which was running behind you. Pulling open the door, you were hit by a cascade of warm steam. It felt amazing and you could feel your congestion start to loosen a little. 

Only your delight lasted for a second, a familiar sensation creeping into the bridge of your nose. Stepping into the shower, you were only able to enjoy the feeling of the water briefly before the sensation in your nose grew to an irritating tickle. 

“Hhup’tshiew! Hh-’iishiew! HHe’TSHHIEW!” Your body bent forwards at the waist as you sneezed down into your hands before washing them off under the water, you grimaced at the sound you made, knowing it was only the first of many to come. You sighed, your stuffiness returning in an instant, though you really didn’t get long to dwell on it before you began coughing into your fist. 

It took you about 30 seconds to finally stop, “Well that was attractive.” You spoke for the first time today, finding your sarcastic tone had a painful-rasp to it, your consonants blurred by congestion. Although nobody was there to hear you, you found yourself cringing at the sound of yourself. Taking a deep breath, you could feel your chest crack, you looked upwards, allowing the water to fall directly onto your face. It was obvious today was going to be a very long day.

 You let yourself spend longer than usual in the shower, stepping out of the warm water, your body shivered and you rushed to wrap yourself within a towel. Getting changed was a task which proved harder than you thought, every time you removed the towel, small goosebumps ran down your arms, making your wrap yourself back up, desperate for warmth. Eventually though you managed to pull through and you changed into a pair of Nat’s sweatpants and a thick cotton-lined hoodie. 

It was almost 10:30AM by the time you’d wandered down into the compound kitchen in search of something to eat, you weren’t necessarily hungry but still you had to eat something. Nat didn’t like it when you didn’t have something for breakfast plus you were hoping that if you ate something then you’d feel a little better. 

Looking in the cupboards, you settled on having some Poptarts, you were reaching up to grab the box when Clint, Wanda and Bruce came into the kitchen together, they’d most likely just finished training.

“Morning Y/N.” Clint said cheerily as he came to sit at the island behind you, “Nat's coming home today.”  

“I'm aware.” You said bluntly, as you sniffled into the sleeve of your hoodie, taking two Poptarts and putting them in the toaster. 

“Woah, no need to get snappy.” Clint said throwing his hands up in fake-defence, you knew he was only joking but still, it pissed you off. 

“Can yo-” You stopped to muffle a small chesty cough into your hoodie, “Can you just stop?” You said with an irritated tone, turning around to glare at him. 

You half-expected him to return the gesture but instead you were met with looks of concern from him along with Wanda and Bruce who’d watched the whole thing unfold. 

“Y/N, honey,” Wanda’s soft voice said as she came to lean against the fridge, trying to get a closer look at you, “Clint was only joking, he didn’t mean to annoy you. You're sounding a little stuffy over there though, you feeling alright?” 

“It's okay,” You sighed, looking over to Clint, “Sorry, I overreacted and Wanda, I'm fine, don’t worry.” 

It was then that you felt your nose begin to tingle again, you fanned your face for a moment, in an attempt to somehow stave the tickle off but it didn’t help, you turned quickly to the side away from everyone as you sneezed into your elbow. 

“Hh-itshhiew! HhH’uptshiew!” You gave a small congested groan before reaching over to grab a tissue from the box sitting on the countertop. 

The three Avengers blessed you, exchanging glances between themselves. You didn’t notice however, as your Poptarts were ready a moment later. You grabbed a plate and put them onto it, taking a bite, you winced as you swallowed, the action angering the soreness at the back of your throat. You realised then that you really weren't hungry at all, you took another few bites before pushing the plate away from you. You’d only managed half of one. 

“It's not like you to leave food.” Bruce voiced the thoughts of everyone around you. 

You gave a weak shrug and pushed the plate infront of Clint, “You can finish it if you want.” 

He was about to take a bite of your half-eaten one when Wanda pushed it away mid-air, a red glow forming around it. 

“If Y/N’s sick, you don’t wanna catch that.” She him chided lightly. 

“Who said Im sick?” You looked over to her as you began to walk out from the kitchen, “I just happened to leave some food unfinished, that doesn’t mean Im sick, does it?” You said grumpily as you left. 

Wanda shook her head and shrugged at the others before following you out into the corridor, jogging up so she could walk aside you, following your lead as you made your way towards the lounge. 

“Mind if I tag along?” She asked politely, “You really don’t seem yourself today, did something happen with you and Nat? You’re normally buzzing with excitement every time she comes home.” 

“Nothing happened Wands,” You stopped walking, suddenly sneezing down into your hand, “I can't wait for her to come home obviously. Im just a little tired or something.” 

Wanda blessed you but gave you an uneasy look, she didn’t believe you but seeing how you’d gotten irritated at Clint earlier, she didn’t want to accidently annoy you. 

You and Wanda made your way into the lounge, settling on opposite sofas. You pulled a blanket around yourself, your hoodie doing little to keep you warm. You let Wanda pick something to watch, you didn’t really care, all you wanted was something to take your mind off the mind-numbing ache in your head. 

“Is Brooklyn-Nine-Nine alright?” She asked as she browsed through Netflix. 

“I don’t mind.” You sniffled, burying your head into the blanket as you coughed deeply, the noise causing Wanda to look over at you with worried eyes.

“You sound terrible.” She said as the intro to the series began to play.

 Looking up at her, it was obvious she was concerned, “Just something in my throat.” You grumbled, your voice coming out in crackled, raspy words rather than a flowing sentence, “Its fin- h- Hh'tshhiEW!” 

Wanda wordlessly got up and picked up the box of tissues from the coffee table in the centre of the living room and placed them firmly next to you, ignoring your glare. You couldn't help but feel weak, if you couldn’t hide your little cold from Wands, how on earth were you meant to hide it from Natasha.  

You and Wanda sat in silence for 2 episodes before you felt your nose begin to run causing you to begin sniffling repeatedly, it was then that you found yourself being thankful for her prior act, taking 2 tissues to blow your nose, you mentally thanked her, giving her a brief smile. 

Wanda looked over to you, she’d heard your thoughts and gave you a kind reassuring smile. 

You didn’t know it, but you were slowly falling asleep, your eyes growing heavier by the minute. You looked up to the clock on the wall, it was almost 12PM, meaning Nat would be home in afew hours. You yawned, maybe you’d just close your eyes for a minute... 

~~ ~~ 

Stepping off the Quinjet, Natasha could barely contain herself, finally she’d be able to see you! She didn’t waste any time, leaving the Quinjet loaded and her bags at the exit. She could clean up later, she had to see you first. 

She practically jogged down the halls towards your bedroom, expecting to find you waiting for her. 

“Im home bab-” She called out but stopped, realising the room was empty, she did notice how tidy it looked though, well except the random towel in the middle of the floor, but apart from that the room was almost spotless. 

Nat stopped to think for a moment before realising you were probably with the other Avengers, she said hello to Clint as she poked her head into the kitchen, scanning the room for you. 

“They’re with Wanda, in the lounge.” Clint called, answering her unasked question as he wiped down the countertops, cleaning up after himself. 

Nat thanked him before actually jogging towards the living room, she swung the door open and smiled seeing both you and Wanda sitting on the sofas. 

She was about to call out to you but stopped, seeing Wanda put a finger to her lips. She stood up and came over to Nat, pulling her outside. 

“What's up?” Nat asked, visibly confused at the witch’s actions. 

“I thought you should know, Y/N’s sick, they sounded dreadful earlier. They fell asleep about 3 hours and have barely moved an inch.” She explained, “Im glad you’re back though, how was it?” 

“It was alright, I missed everyone though.” Nat smiled and hugged her friend, “Thanks for telling me about Y/N too.”  

“Don't mention it.” Wanda smiled and left to go do something, allowing Nat to greet you privately. 

Natasha came back into the lounge, carefully coming to kneel infront of the sofa you were asleep on, “Hey baby.” She whispered, as she softly stroked your cheek, she recoiled her hand, instantly alarmed at the heat radiating from your face, “Wakey, wakey sweetie.” 

It took some more love from Nat before you slowly began to wake up, moaning softly as your eyes adjusted to the light in the room, you rubbed your wrist against your eyes as the image of Nat came into focus. 

“Did you have a nice nap baby?” She asked, helping you sit up. 

“Natty.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, sending you into a small fit of deep coughing. Only this time you had Nat to softly rub her hand down your back, “Sorry, something got caught in my throat there, when did you get back?” 

“About 10 minutes ago, when did you get sick?” She raised her eyebrow at you as you woozily stood up, quickly offering her arm out to support you. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, resisting the urge to sniffle. If there was anytime you needed your acting abilities to be flawless, it was now. You had a pretty rocky start but you could still make up for it.  

Nat gave you a curious look, “Wanda said you were sick?” Her words came as more of a question then a statement. 

“Oh.” You feigned surprise as you tried to discreetly clear your throat, “Well Im fine, never better.” You flashed her a small forced smile.  

‘Fine’ is probably the most misused word in the whole of the English language, you most certainly were not fine, even as you stood still it felt as if the room was spinning around, you but you did your best to act as if nothing was wrong. 

Now Natasha knew you were lying, it was obvious from your appearance alone, your eyes were tired and glassy, not to mention both your cheeks and nose were tinged red. But still, she was impressed at your perseverance, maybe that was why she went along with your scheme. She wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in her hands with tissues and a blanket but she just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to give in. 

“Maybe Wanda was wrong then.” Nat smiled at you knowingly, “You wanna go out for drinks later?” 

 You wanted to cry, you wanted nothing more than to go out for drinks with Nat but you knew there’d be no way you’d be going, “Sure, sounds nice, Im really happy you’re home ‘Tasha. I missed you so so mu-” Your trailed off, feeling the ever-present tickle in your nose grow. Not now. 

“Hhu’tshhiew! Hep’TSHHIEW!”  

“Oh bless you, my love.” Nat cooed, holding back the plethora of concerned words which were about to tumble from her mouth, “I thought you said you weren't sick?” 

“Im not,” You stammered, quickly rubbing the sleeve of your hoodie against your nose, “It was just two -Hh- rando- Hh'iishiew!- random sneezes, its nothing.” You sniffled wetly, reaching for the box of tissues which was still sat on the sofa behind you. 

Natasha was stuck. Her heart broke seeing you sick but she really was curious how long you would deny it for, she thought for a moment, if you got any of worst then she’d take matters into her own hands. 

“Have you eaten yet?” You asked, even through your fever, her welfare was still at the top of your mind. 

“No, but I could use a drink though.” She fibbed, hearing the rasp behind your voice, it was clear you needed water. 

“M’Kay, we should go get you one then.” You mumbled, linking your arm with hers as you both left the lounge to go to the kitchen. 

Entering the kitchen, you let yourself sit down on one of the stools at the island as Nat grabbed two glasses from the cupboards, pouring water into each. 

“Here baby.” She said lovingly, sliding it over to you. 

You thanked her and drank it, the cool water feeling amazing against the burning of your throat, “Did you already unpack?” 

“Not yet,” She replied, sipping her water, “I’ll do it later.” 

“You need a hand?” You offered, praying she’d decline your offer, you really weren't too confident in your lifting abilities at the moment. 

“Aw thanks baby but I think I’ll be okay.”  

You sat silently, waiting for Nat to finish her water when you started sniffling, feeling your nose begin to run again. You eyed up the tissues on the counter opposite, but grabbing them would be an instant sign to Nat that something was wrong so you opted for trying to discreetly rub your nose against your hoodie. 

However, the action only seemed to irritate your nose further, sending an intense tingle to the bridge of your nose. 

“Hh’k-tshhiew! Heh’iiishiew! Hh..H..HHitsshiew!” 

“Bless you, bless you!” She exclaimed, her worry slipping into her tone as she spoke, “You need a tissue?” 

You nodded, as you swiped a handful from the box which she offered out to you. You blew your nose softly, though it did little to ease your discomfort. You sighed, fanning your hand infront of your face, feeling that familiar warmth from earlier that morning come over you again. 

You tried to ignore it, but it slowly became unbearable, you raised your arms, pulling off the cotton hoodie, revealing your black sports bra. 

Natasha looked over you, puzzled, before noticing that your fever-flushed cheeks had darkened further. Right. This had gone too far now. 

She firmly pressed her palm to your forehead without warning, letting out a string of curses in Russian as she felt your raging fever. 

“Shit, Y/N. You feel like a furnace. Enough, I know you’re sick, I’ve known the whole time, it's gone too far now.” 

What? Her words barely formed coherent sentences in your foggy mind, how did she know? You’d hidden it so well. Small beads of sweat began to form and run down your hot skin and you groaned in discomfort, longing for her love. 

“Natty-” You spluttered off into a series of deep coughs, your chest convulsing as you coughed down into your elbow. Natasha had rushed to your side and began running circles down your back, slowly helping you regain your breath. 

“Baby I don’t feel good.” 

“I know sweetie, I know.” Nat kissed your cheek before grabbing a tissue to wipe your running nose, “You need to get into bed, come on.” 

You nodded and opened her hand out towards you. 

You stood and the world span around you, your peripheral vision fading black suddenly as your knees buckled under yourself and you felt the weight of gravity pull you down. You thought you were going to hit the ground when sudden you felt yourself being lifted upwards. Natasha’s fast reaction had allowed her to slip one arm beneath your knees and another behind your back, safely catching you in her arms as you lifted you up in the bridal position. 

She held you for a moment before releasing a deep exhale, “Jesus Y/N. You scared the shit out of me, don’t ever do that again,” She brought her head and pressed it softly against yours, “Poor baby, you’ve been so strong but we need to get you to bed now, okay?” 

You nodded woozily, Natasha continued to whisper sweet nothings to you as she carried you, her strong arms supporting you. Your eyes fell closed for a moment and the next thing you knew, you were being lowered down onto your bed, Natasha’s anxious green eyes looking down at you. 

“I guess we’re not going out for drinks then?” Your words were mumbled but you saw her give a slight smirk at your humour. 

“No baby, we’ll go out when your well.” 

“Sorry your first day back was so eventful, I wanted you to be able to relax.” You sighed, with a damp sniffle, rubbing your nose against the blanket which Nat had pulled over you. 

“You’re okay baby, you’ve done so much today. You just need to relax yourself, just lay here. That fever of yours is no joke, you need to rest.” 

Natasha opened your drawer, seeing if you had a thermometer at hand, what she wasn’t expecting to see though was her letters, “You kept these?” She asked, her eyes prickled with tears. She hadn't expected you to keep them, her mission had been hard and seeing her letters only reminded her of how much she’d missed you. 

“They remind me of you so I wanted to keep them.��� Your words were slurred but she understood you anyway. 

She honestly wasn’t sure why she thought you wouldn’t keep them. Seeing them lit a little flame in her heart, she leant down to your side and planted a soft kiss on your lips, “I’ll never leave you again baby, okay? Im here.” 

You muffled another deep cough into the blanket as Nat regained her composure, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. She came and slid into bed beside you, sitting upright. You shuffled backwards so you were laying on her, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beating of her heart as she softly ran her hand through your hair. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

[chvoswxtch]

Hi! I’m really sorry to keep requesting this but could you write about blackwidow!reader being on a mission to kill Matt/Daredevil and that she ends up getting close to him just because of the mission but it could possibly end with a happy ending?

please never apologize for a request! you have no idea how beyond flattered I am that you come to me with your ideas & trust me to bring them to life. I am having so much fun with all of these matt x black widow reader requests, so thank you! ❤️

warning: some swearing, slight mentions of violence word count: 2.2k

we can do this together.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to hesitate. You were never allowed to question a mission. And up until now, you never had. But he made you question everything.

“You don’t have to do this. I know you don’t want to.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know everything about you. You lied about a few things, yeah, but nothing that mattered. Everything else you told me was real. Listen-“

“Don’t move.”

You aimed your gun directly at Matt’s chest, pausing his ascension forward. He quickly brought his hands up in surrender, the sides of his mouth turned downwards in a slight grimace. 

“Y/N, you’re not gonna shoot me.”

Even though half of his face was covered, you could see the betrayal written on his features clear as day beneath the glowing moonlight. You could practically envision the hurt permeating his golden honey eyes, and that image in your head punctured your heart like a jagged, rusty blade. The effect of your treachery was evident in his voice, but you had to remind yourself why you were here. You cocked the hammer of your gun as you clenched your jaw, noting the way his lips parted slightly in response to take in a breath.

“No?”

At this point you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more; him or yourself. 

Your grip on the handle tightened as you struggled to compose yourself. 

He’s just another mission. You’ve done this a thousand times. Just pull the trigger.

Matt swallowed thickly as he took a cautious step forward, shaking his head slowly as he spoke.

“No, you won’t. You won’t hurt me.”

You fired a warning shot by his foot, causing him to freeze immediately. He turned his head away from the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the concrete of the rooftop, wincing as the sound pierced his sensitive ears. Matt’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, letting a frustrated sigh escape his mouth as he focused his head in your direction. The disappointment was practically radiating off of him, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“Stop pretending like you know me. You only know the version of me I wanted you to see. Manipulation and deception are our greatest strengths, Matthew. It’s how we bring down empires.”

Matt scoffed as he let out a humorless laugh, instantly dropping his hands by his sides and clutching them into tight fists as he shook his head defiantly and took another bold step forward. 

“No.”

Goddamnit Matthew, stop. Quit being so fucking stubborn.

“It’s not up for debate.”

Deep down you wanted him to run. He was quick and stealthy, you knew that. He could disappear before you even had a chance to track him. That would give you more time. To do what, you weren’t sure. Delay the inevitable? Hope they pulled you off this task and assigned someone else? Runaway yourself?

But Matt wasn’t a runner. He was just as combative outside of the courtroom as he was in it. There was no changing his mind once it had already been made up, he was too tenacious.

“It’s bullshit. I know when you’re lying. I can tell by your heartbeat. You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me.”

Matt’s confession stunned you completely. He was blind, you knew that for a fact. But he was also the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You hadn’t quite figured out how he was able to do the things he did, but it wasn’t important to your assignment, so you weren’t allowed to test your curiosity. Get in, get what you need, eliminate the threat, and get out. Those were the rules.

None of this matters. He’s a mission. Just complete it. 

Sensing a falter in your facade, Matt took another cautious step forward, and you reflexively aimed your gun directly towards his face. You never had an issue completing an assignment before. Every target you were assigned to take out was a threat. It never bothered you before, because each of them had things far worse than skeletons in their closets. Some of them had committed sins you didn’t think any God could forgive. The world was better off without them. 

Why was this time so hard?

Because it was Matt. Matthew Murdock that let his clients repay him in banana bread for helping them get justice. Matthew Murdock that gave his literal blood, sweat, and tears every night for a city that would never thank him or even know his real name. 

Because it was Matt that stopped by your apartment randomly and asked you to accompany him to do mundane tasks like go grocery shopping, or claiming he needed feedback on his closing argument with an elaborate ruse. He always had an excuse, but it was simply because he knew you didn’t have any family either, and sometimes felt just as alone as he did. It was Matt that remembered how much you loved pickles and always offered you his even if he wanted them. It was Matt that walked you home every time you went to Josie’s, even though you lived 2 blocks away, because he wanted to make sure you made it home safe. 

Because it was Matt, and he wasn’t really the threat; Daredevil was. Because Daredevil was dangerous. Because he was too good at what he did, and was getting too close. Your other targets were more competition than threats. But him? He was a threat. They had every right to be terrified of him. They should be.

The only advantage you had at the moment was that you hadn’t reported that you figured out Daredevil’s identity. They didn’t know about Matt. But if you were able to figure it out, you knew another widow could too. Matt was only safe the longer you dragged out this assignment, and you were running out of time.

“Sweetheart-“

“Don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to focus. It felt like you were spiraling in a haunting kaleidoscope of guilt and fear, anxious as to where you would land. You were fighting against every single code of your programming. Everything you were trained to do. Everything you were molded to be. Matt had unlocked something in you, and you were struggling to keep it contained.

“Put the gun down.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just-“

“You don’t understand.”

You didn’t even try to mask the vulnerability in your voice. Part of you knew Matt was right. Your mission was to get close to him, but either consciously or subconsciously, you’d also let him get close to you. You had told him things, real things, that no one else knew. You tried to convince yourself that it was to draw him in closer, to make him trust you so you could take advantage of him. But the more you were around him, the truth became harder to deny. Matt Murdock was like gravity. You were drawn to him, like everyone else around him, and he grounded you into a space that felt secure. 

“Then help me understand. Please, sweetheart.”

“I can’t just walk away. One of us isn’t leaving this roof alive.”

“I don’t believe that. I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t fight you.”

“Then you’ll die.”

Matt charged forward until the barrel of your gun was pressed directly against his sternum. The action surprised you and caused you to stumble backwards, but Matt gripped onto your wrist and forced you to keep the gun in place. The way his chest was heaving had your hand almost shaking, and you grit your teeth in annoyance at his persistence. 

“Then shoot me.”

“Goddamnit, Matthew. I’m not what you think I am.”

“I know you’re not what they made you.”

Your fingers trembled slightly around the handle of the gun. Emotions were something you were trained to let go of. They were never supposed to get in the way or compromise a mission. But a piece of you refused to accept the truth that was gnawing at the pit of your stomach; you couldn’t pull the trigger. You knew that. He knew that.

“I can’t walk away. You don’t…you have no idea what…what they’ll do to me.”

A shudder raced down your spine at the thought. You knew what happened to widows that couldn’t complete a mission. They were tortured if they were compromised, and only granted the mercy of death when their body finally gave out. A low growl ripped through Matt’s chest as he tore the gun out of your hands, throwing it behind him as he grabbed onto the back of your neck with his other and pulled you flush into his chest.

“They are not going to touch you ever again.”

“Matt-“

“You are not what they made you.”

“Stop trying to save me. You don’t know what I’ve done-“

“I don’t care.”

“You should-“

“Whatever you did, it was against your will. They didn’t give you a choice. But you have one now, Y/N.”

You didn’t deserve his forgiveness. You didn’t deserve his understanding. Whatever light he saw in you had to just be a reflection of his own. Why did he have to be so good? Matt had found a loose thread in your being, unraveling everything you thought was real, and had you now completely wrapped around him. Ever the good Catholic boy, here he was still trying to save you, even when you had pointed a gun in his face and threatened his life. 

Matt quickly pulled off his helmet, tossing it carelessly to the side as he cupped your jaw delicately in his gloved hands like you might shatter any second. The anguish shadowing his beautiful face made you wish he had kept the fucking thing on. You couldn’t handle the look in his eyes.

“Come with me. Let me help.”

“You can’t-“

“I can. I can help. I have friends that will help. We can take them down together, sweetheart. You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. No one is ever going to hurt you again. We can do this together.”

Matt pressed his forehead to yours, reaching for one of your hands to hold against his chest. He gave your wrist a light squeeze, gently nudging your nose with his own.

“I know you, honey. I’ve heard your heart, and I can feel your soul. Please come with me.”

“Matt…if anything happened to you-“

“Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing is going to happen to you. We can protect each other. We can do this, sweetheart. I know we can. But I need you to trust me.”

Something about Matthew Murdock made you feel like you knew who you were outside of the Red Room. Who you really wanted to be. You’d felt the spark the first time you met; something pure and light like you’d never felt before. Every second you spent with him, you felt like pieces of you were being healed, so much so that you hadn’t even realized some parts weren’t broken anymore until you noticed they stopped hurting.

There had to be something good still left in you. If Matt believed you could find redemption, it had to be true. He was the first person you felt like you could actually trust, and that was terrifying. But despite everything, the heartbreaking truth he had learned about you, the revelation of lies and deceit, he was still here. He was offering you his forgiveness, and his hand, but more than that, he was offering you something you hadn’t felt in a lifetime; hope. 

“I…I don’t know how this works, Matt.”

“We figure it out together, one step at a time.”

“I don’t think I’m worth all this trouble.”

“I do.”

Matt’s face had softened as he pulled back slightly, blank eyes darting back and forth as they burned with recognition. There was a melancholic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth while he nodded his chin in your direction. 

“I know that darkness you feel. I know you think there’s something inside of you that can’t be fixed. And…maybe it can’t. But I do know that you and I are a lot more alike than you think. Our broken pieces…they fit, Y/N. I think you feel that too. We fit together, sweetheart. We can do this. We can take them all down, together.”

It was hard to argue with the confidence and conviction in Matt’s voice. You could feel his own heart beating strongly against your palm through his suit. It hadn’t faltered once. You couldn’t tell if it was because he really believed that, or if he refused to believe anything else.

This decision would alter your life forever. There would never be any going back, and it was quite literally life or death. But you had never been more sure of anything in your life. 

“Where do we start?”

Matt let out a deep exhale of relief, his entire body visibly relaxing as your words hit his ears. His mouth parted into that dazzling smile that made you dizzy, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in to carefully brush his lips against yours.

“How about dinner?”

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 5

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - 7th Year

Rated: 18+

Warnings:  cursing, being overworked, exiling yourself from your friends. 

Author’s Note: it has come to my attention while re-playing the game that I’ve been spelling Garreth wrong, in my defense autocorrect also thinks its “Gareth” so I feel like I should have a pass.

Little Bird Masterlist

I took my sweet time getting ready that morning, brushing my hair and teeth meticulously before putting on my robes and leaving for breakfast. I’d hoped that by dragging my feet the dining hall would be mostly empty and I could just swipe a few things before going to class. 

Of course - I was not that lucky, Sebastian was standing outside of the Ravenclaw dormitories, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

When he sees me talk out the door he stands up straight, moving his bag filled with his school supplies to his other shoulder. “I was beginning to worry I’d missed you.”

“Running late.” I mumble, not completely over the fight we’d had the evening before. 

Sebastian easily keeps up with me as we walk down the stairs, “I needed to apologize.” He says and I blush, “I was the one who set the Undercroft on fire.” I sigh, embarrassed by my outburst. 

“I deserved it. I had been pushing you too hard and I shouldn’t have done that.” He says, grabbing my arm so we stop walking down the stairs and he can turn to face me. “I’m sorry, Bird.” He says and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I hate when we fight.”

Fighting seems to be the only thing I’m good at lately. 

I want to give in, just squeeze him around the middle as tightly as I can and say it’s all water under the bridge, but his face last night, the pure fear in his features was burned into my brain. I’d never forget it. 

“Sebastian.” I sigh and pull back. “I just. I’m running late, okay?”

“No.”

“What?” 

“I said no, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay until I’ve made up with my best friend.” God he’s so fucking stubborn. 

“We’ve made up, Seb. We’re fine. I just really am running late today.” I lie. “I told Professor Weasley I would meet her before lessons started today and I’m afraid won’t make it in time.” 

“O-Oh.” He says, not really able to argue with that, even though I can tell he doesn’t fully believe it. I don’t often lie to him, and it’s making me feel a little sick.

“Maybe we can have lunch? Or do a dinner with the little beasties, yeah? Ominis hasn’t been bothered by the Nifflers in some time. I think we could go for a laugh.” He suggests, pulling at threads.

“Yeah.” I give a half hearted smile. “Maybe we’ll do dinner.” With that as my farewell I turn and start taking the stairs as quickly as I can without breaking out into a full run, and head to a floo flame. 

To make myself into less of a liar I do go toward Professor Weasley’s classroom. Ever since Fig had died my fifth year, she’d become my confidant. She’d been a tremendous help my sixth year when I was stressed out about school, about trying to rebuild my friendships after everything. 

I slip into her classroom and move to the back, knocking on the door. No one was waiting in the room so I assume she didn’t have a class this period. 

She calls for me to come in and I crack open the door, walking into her pristine office. She was always so put together in my eyes, well for someone who was practically running the school without the title of headmaster. “Good Morning, Professor.” I smile lightly at her and she gestures to the little sitting area sitting by a window. “How nice to see you, how has your term been so far?”

I felt the immediate urge to lie, to tell her that everything was alright, that my year was going beautifully. I didn’t want her to think I was failing, but at this point I wasn’t sure what much of an option I had. 

As soon as I opened my mouth the floodgates broke. I told her about me struggling in lessons, about not being able to contain my magic, or stop myself from fighting with my friends. My the end I had fully lost control of my emotions and I was just sobbing into the sleeve of my robes. 

“Oh deary.” She sighs and comes around to sit on the same couch as me, putting her hand around my shoulders and rubbing my arm comfortably. “And on top of all of it.” I sob. “I’ve got bloody boy problems.”

She lets out a laugh that breaks me from my train of thought. “I know it seems silly, given the rest of it, but really these boys are driving me mad.” I giggle a little, wiping the tears off my face, taking deep breaths to calm down. 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but they never get better.” Professor Weasley smiles. “I didn’t think so.” I sigh. 

“Does one of these mad boys happen to be my nephew?” 

I blush, answering her question for her. “I can tell him to leave you alone if you wish.” She smiles kindly and I shake my head. “No! No- I think he’s actually quite... charming.” God was this awkward to talk about with his aunt. “But-”

“The Sallow boy?” She asks and my mouth drops open, I’m sure I look like a fish out of water. “How did you know that?!”

“As much as we try to act above it all the teachers do talk. We all thought you were...” She trails off and I shrug. “He doesn’t like me like that, and... he knows about my magic how I don’t always... act normally. It scares the Jesus out of him.” I sigh, “I can’t blame him.”

“I doubt that.” She sighs. I shake my head and stand up, looking at the time piece on her desk. I was already 5 minutes late for Charms. 

I wipe my face once more. “Thank you... for speaking with me.” I sigh, I don’t know fi I felt any better, but it was nice to get off my chest. 

The Professor waves her hand and a quill floats up, writing a note on a piece of parchment. “I don’t know how much I can help in the boy department, but let me know if you need help with any lessons, I’m always here. And I’m going to start looking for someone who might be able to help you with that ancient magic.” The note floats over to me and I grab it out of the air, just a pass for being late to class. 

I nod, thanking her once more before heading off to Charms. 

When I get to my class I slip the paper on the Professor’s desk and slip into my seat next to Ominis, Sebastian on his other side. I open my books and Sebastian leans over our friend. “You’ve been crying.”

I ignore him, now was neither the time nor place for this. “Bird talk to me.” He begs, leaning closer to Ominis. “Bird ple-”

“Sebastian I am trying to pay attention to this lesson can you PLEASE stop pretending I don’t exist.” Ominis groans, maybe a touch too loudly. 

“Sallow, Gaunt. Am I boring you?” The Professor asks, the entire class turning to look at us three. I try to hide my red, puffy face from the prying eyes. 

“No, sir.” The two answer at the same time. 

“Five points from Slytherin, more if you continue to ignore my lesson.” He scoffs and turns back to instructing the class. 

Thankfully, Sebastian drops it.

_________

taglist: @stuffyownswrld​ @findingtruenorth23 @flowered-bicycles @lumiiiiiiiiii

[panderghast]

I have maybe a pinch of hope left...

Cause like, I have sooooo much to give. And it seems like everyone wants a piece of it, but nobody wants to give anything back. They want me to be dirty, as long as I can wash myself clean again of course (my goodness). They love how quirky I am! Until I need to tone it down, oh my gosh it's mortifying. Why would I wear that in public, say that out loud? I'm going to walk away from you if you do that, I swear to god don't embarrass me. I have strong values and morals; unless we disagree. Then I become stubborn and unpleasant while I defend my opinion and you drown out my voice with your cynicism and ego. I can't even talk about what's bothering me, it's a personal attack on them exclusively. Lord have mercy it is actually about them, because suddenly they do nothing right and nothing is ever good enough for me and they just can't lose me, they can't!

Honestly, I'm also tired of playing into the thought of basic decency being my reward? I'm not your good girl. I'm not a dog. You aren't a dom, and I'm not a sub. I don't owe you that privilege just because you saw me naked and you put your hand on my throat while you fucked me. You don't know the first thing about BDSM, and you can't even tell me the definition of a kink. So why do you think this is a turn based game instead of a bonding exercise around consent? Don't touch me.

The thing is, I want to let someone in. I want to express deep and passionate love. But I am constantly misguided. I am lead to believe these men tell the truth, and then once I get comfortable in their embrace and I feel safe they constrict me like a snake until I stop breathing. My heart is treated like a possession, not a delicate gift. I'm a conquest in some sick subjugation, not a prize to be displayed and discussed and proud of. I'm a very fun toy to have, but I'm like a sports car - but they can't use me everyday, that's why they have their family car and I'm in the garage; they can only take my out when its convenient or they're feeling nostalgic or frisky. All I was asking for is maybe some recognition? A little appreciation, some attention? Maybe give me half as much thought as you did to your Baldur's Gate 3 character. Or, I suddenly turn into their mother and I get to experience all the Freudian bullshit that they packed in their bags and dragged around with them from house to house. I must be able to teach them all the things their lacking, right? I mean, after all I'm raising 4 kids successfully on my own and maintaining a house and budget without help and I do all these wonderful things like cook and clean and make art and I can still love so freely. Wow! I'm a goddess. I'm so special, unique, incredible, astounding...So, that's something that I can share obviously. It must be a secret, a technique I've perfected through all the trauma and opportunities life has given me. If I could only support them a bit...emotionally, spiritually, financially, sexually, physically, mentally...teach them how to take care of themselves since they never bothered to learn. Then I could make them a good partner. For me, of course! ...But I have to make sure I share their interests because mine are a bit boring, they don't get it it's too much information to follow, this cartoon is kind of childish don't you think, what is this a romance, I don't really understand old horror movies they're so badly made...but hey, have you seen the entire Marvel collection? Don't worry, I'll make sure to ask you questions on everything you do like that coincides with my interests to make sure you're telling the truth. Oh wait, make sure that I don't go out without them too much, they'll feel lonely. Why is my phone going off so much? I'm so paranoid about shutting my laptop when I'm done, omg can I stop doing that why don't I leave it open. Hey, they're out of body wash and shampoo btw. Ah, shoot, can I help them clean up because they're just so tired. Can I cover this bill, order this food, get these drinks cause they ran out of money? We haven't gone out in a while...oh it's because I'm not paying or planning for it anymore and the last time you did anything was March? What the fuck do you mean you don't vote? What the fuck do you mean you think feminists are annoying? What the fuck do you mean I emasculate you, I wasn't even talking to you, I was talking to my son about doing his homework or else he would end up living in his friends apartment sleeping on a mattress on the floor with no sheets and his winter coat on cause they couldn't afford the gas bill working a dead end job at a fast food place cause he has no skills...but if the fucking shoe fits, my guy. 🙄

[tleeaves]

what did cassie get wrong w Jem iyo? like to me he’s very proud and stubborn in an Asian way (it’s hard to explain but there’s something very chinese about it, culturally, how he’s optimistic and dramatic in equal parts but needs to be seen as separate from his illness so badly) and very conscious of the value of life yet resigned to his own fate yet holding his head up the way people in inspiration porn do (but it’s from a place of wanting to be normal, wanting to fit in and live and have meaning and love and responsibility in his life like a teenager). I’m curious though how could his character have popped more? and what does not seem realistic?? actual so curious

Okay love, bear with me, I'm just going to go on a bit of a ramble. I haven't put a lot of thought into my answer so it may be a bit incoherent.

So, as context for anyone else, I mentioned in another post where I was examining chronic pain and illness in fiction using TSC characters that I felt that while Jem was done quite well (he means a lot to me as a character and I relate to him like I haven't been able to with other characters before), there were some missed opportunities for his character to really pop and some things I felt Cassie didn't really do realistically.

Honestly, I think the two kind of tie together. While my illness is not terminal, there were many times I either wished for death or wished to live a fuller life unhampered by the pain and sickness. This still happens sometimes, but more of the latter. It's hard to look at healthy, able-bodied people. I marvel at just... how much easier existence must be for them. And I wish we saw more of this perspective with Jem.

While we do see him having a crisis over feeling like he's only half-living, half a man, and so he must take more yin-fen to be his full self for Tessa (this really hit hard as someone who was on steroids and felt unshackled for the first time in years, only for the pain to come back again and trip me up again sometime after I had stopped taking the meds), I also feel that we didn't quite reach a catharsis or angst that truly would have rounded his experience as a character. Optimism, pride, stubbornness, and his own subtler dramatics all do come into this, but I really would have liked to see a moment of weakness.

I think that night when he first kisses Tessa and is ranting about how she acts like a nurse and as if he is her patient, that he knows she cannot even see him as a full man, one who might desire her -- that was good. That was a moment of weakness. Emphasised when he sent her away because he did not want her to see him on his knees dusting up the drugs that give him life. That was so frickin' YES. I cannot even tell you the amount of times I feared as a teenager and even now into adulthood that I will not be seen romantically because I am just someone to take care of, a liability, and I try so hard to compensate for that to not be a burden, because I need to be seen as a "full person" to anyone able-bodied. This was just chef's kiss fantastic as a demonstration of something Cassie did so, so right to me with Jem. It's a common insecurity but not to be overlooked. For Jem it is his weakness and shorter life span, for me it's physical disfigurement (so far it's just one funky collarbone) that may worsen with age and limited physical ability (I say it so many times, but it really haunts me that I turned down a dance offered by a guy I had a major crush on because I was in too much pain to move much let alone dance, and the fact that many people avoided me when I was in my worst bouts of pain because they didn't know what to do).

Anyway, that was an example of something Cassie did right. What I would have also liked to see though is a moment where Jem is not calm and it has nothing to do with Tessa (well, it's at least not centred around Tessa). For a long time, I just wanted the pain to end. I had made peace with death because I wished for it. And there was a calmness to it. The same everyone sees in Jem. Acceptance. He argues not willingness because he fights for every second of life he gets to spend with those he loves, but I really think what would have popped is seeing him realise how much he wants for there to be a cure. He does give everyone permission to look before he calls it off to take the last resort option he never wanted before to be a Silent Brother, but I wanted to see him break down -- even if it's in private because most of our battles are when you're chronically ill -- and realise he wants to live because there is so much more he wants.

I know it's seen as very cool to accept a death that's coming to you in a lot of media, but honestly once I got past wishing for it, I became so absolutely terrified of it. The idea of losing control over my body, of my joints being too stiff and painful to create or do simple tasks, and the idea of any of my chronic illnesses being severe enough to become what might kill me in the end, before my time, scares me so much. There is a frantic need in me to do and see everything before I am unable to. I feel like I am constantly in a rush for everything in life.

It's basically rule of thumb in writing that a character who is calm needs a scene where they are not calm, when they snap, when the unthinkable happens, where the unshakeable are suddenly shook, and I needed that deep, deep terror in Jem to be about him, and not just Tessa or the people he's leaving behind that he does not want to cause grief for.

Not every person who can "put up" with their chronic illness is a saint with infinite patience. I see this a lot. To me it feels unrealistic that Jem feels okay about his illness, about his impending death, about all of it, that the only thing he might feel bad about is making his bride a widow too soon and leaving his best friend who might not cope without him. This is more of a typical trope in media, and by god do I just want to see someone else who isn't me go through what I do and also scream and cry at the injustice of it all. We didn't choose this life, it was given to us, and it feels so unfair. It is rare that I ever break down right in front of a person, I've gotten good at the detachment when talking about my chronic illnesses, but in private it is a whole other monster.

Not only that, but the Jem we see post-Brotherhood is so... different. Granted he had over 100 years to come to terms with no longer dying too early or being ill and weak. But chronic illness really takes its toll on a person. You don't have to make their whole personality their illness, I think we'd all rather not, but there is a fear that every little health problem might be something worse, there is even a begrudgement of those who take their bodies for granted, the fear that your children might inherit your weaknesses and that maybe you have sentenced them to a life of pain like yours was/is, that one day the chronic illness will come back and you've only got so many healthy years left before you get old and start to lose your body all over again.

For every moment of optimism and hope, there are hidden moments of despair and fight and pain. Sometimes we have to claw and bleed for that ounce of hope, for the strength to act "normal" and fit in and not be a downer around everyone else. As restless as you can be, sometimes you just want to sleep it off, even though you know this illness isn't something you can sleep off. I would have liked to see more of that with Jem.

Again, what Cassie did was really good, and I appreciate Jem so much since I have not seen many other chronically ill characters who I relate to in fiction. I just felt some things could have added to his story and character.

[bubacorn]

alright, so this is gonna be so cheesy, but i wanna make a post with some of my favorite ST fics i've written this year, if for nothing else, just to remind myself that i can arrange words around, and they can come out half-decent. so, yeah, sorry in advance to anyone who has to see this, i wouldn't dare put the fandom fanfic tag on this, this is only for my dear followers, you are lovely, i apologize if this appears on your dash.

Come Beside Me (This Won’t Hurt I Swear) okay, so i remember being so in love with the last part, especially the whole morning sunlight thing. that was (is?) my favorite piece of writing at that point (which really wasn't hard, cause there wasn't much to pick from yet)

God Gives His Toughest Flus to His Sleepiest Vessels this is just pure mush, but stubborn sick Vessel being taken care of is very close to my heart

And I Don’t Wanna Get in Your Way this all started with the "Get comfortable" "I am" and the "You're allowed to take up space". in my mind, they're watching either The Matrix or John Wick at the end for some reason

I Got Problems Down in My Bones gods, this one. the little parts just wrote themselves and there was this common thread between them and i loved this one so much (still do). there's some pieces of me in this and it makes me feel sad, but seen that people related to this one (i love you, i hope you're doing well)

I Will Shield You from the Waves, if They Find You this is very sweet and all, but i always think of it more as sad

Break and Bend to My Basic Need didn't plan on writing this, but the brainworms made me and then it turned out kinda good

It’s All Your Fault, Even When You Don’t Mean To this. this and the next one are twin fics for me, i always think of them in pairs (probably cause i wrote them back-to-back). can't articulate, but it's also very close to my heart. IV holding the back of Vessel's head and wiping his tears and making him feel worth it make me feel very normal, i almost feel like it wasn't me who wrote it

This Is the Start of Something this!!! i made them watch worst cooks in America cause why not. this one's also very close to my heart, definitely one of my favorites i've ever written

I’m Frantic in Your Soothing Arms okay, the implication that Vessel knows nothing makes the transformation easier from his own experience suffering, but he still tries anyway, cause he would take a tummy ache from III without hesitation, if he could. also, rubbing his stomach is just so intimate and he's so desperate to help, even though he knows he can't, but still tries. and Vessel calling III 'my heart' and 'my III' just came to me and they made me lose my mind so of course i had to include them. feeling very normal about this one, too

And the Pain Still Hates Me for some reason i love the base idea of this, i don't even know how it appeared in my head, but i'm so glad it did. blowing kisses was a last-minute addition, also didn't know where that came from, but it's so cute

And Honey, I Only Appeared So I Can Fade Away this one! i had half an idea for this and like one sentence typed in, then just started writing and i loved writing this, it was so much fun and i adore the end product, one of my favorites. now that i'm thinking, maybe i could expand on this

I Believe I’m Not Alone this was kinda based on one of those posts that was like 'you deserve to be loved and chosen, not almost loved and almost chosen' and my brain went 'Vessel!' and then i wrote this. again, pieces of me, pieces of him

Come Squeeze the World and Drip It Down My Throat Again i was a bit afraid with this one, cause i felt it was a little clumsy (?), with the way the smaller parts revolved around a main idea but weren't all very closely connected. but gods, i made my own heart hurt with this one a lot. also, love this title, some of my favorite lyrics. loaded with layers of trauma, but it's very dear to me

I’m Doing What I Must, Which Is Attempting to Kill the Little Boy Inside (But as Hard as I Try, the Child Will Not Die) again, loosely compiled together around an idea, but this took a shorter time to write i think. it flowed well for me, and again, it hurt right in my meow-meow, but i love this a lot. also, the title just wouldn't leave me alone and i wanted to use it for something and i felt that this was a perfect fit. then at the last moment i added a parallel, cause my brain thought it would be nice. i have to say, it is

okay, so this is just pure self-indulgent rambling about my Sleep Token fics, but writing gave me a lot these past months and i really love it and still have ideas that i wanna share. huge, huge thank you to everyone who's read anything i wrote, left kudos and comments, you are wonderful, i hope you are doing okay! 💕 drop by my dms/tag me if you want to yell at me or something

not gonna say have a great next year or anything like that, cause i don't like making a big deal out of the beginning of a year, as it just puts pressure on it and that's so unnecessary. have a lovely day, i hope you got some rest and could do something you enjoy and i wish all the best to you! see you around! 💖

[stillstuckin2000spunkrock]

Drunk!Jake Sully x Female!Omaticaya! Reader

Hey loves! I apologize for not posting in a while, I’ve got midterms this week so I’ve been distracted. This quick blurb just kind of came to me and I thought I’d write it down. For those of you that don’t know, I am comfortable with writing stuffing or burp fics because I’ve noticed people on Tumblr like those, so I will take other requests. This fic also is around the same story line as my previous Jake one where Y/n is Neytiri’s sister and is Jakes mate. However Neytiri and Jake didn’t have feelings for one another, so just Y/n and Jake. Now I know Jake is for sure a dom but I think when he’s uncomfortable or not feeling well, even he needs to feel babies sometimes. Especially when he’s hammered and can’t really think straight. I hope you guys enjoy! Leave some requests either in the comments or my messages for ideas you might want❤️

“Jake.. maybe you should’ve taken it easy on the alcohol..” You giggled softly, his arm slung across your shoulders as you struggled to support him. “I’m fine..” Jake slurred, attempting to ease his weight off of you, but stumbling over himself. “Easy there tiger-“ You teased, helping Jake regain his balance a bit. Jake responded by letting out a deep hiccup that sounded painful and acidic. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your husband’s drunk stubborn ass though. The man could never accept help, his pride wouldn’t allow it, yet it was just one of the many things you learned to love about him. 

As you made it back to you and Jakes little den in the Hometree, you heard Jake hold in a thick closed mouth burp that sounded a little sick. “You okay..?” You asked, stopping to look Jake in the eyes. “Yeah.. Just not feeling too hot.” He muttered. “Well we’re literally two steps away from the bed, think you can make it?” You teased lightly. Jake nodded, and with one final heave he threw himself onto the bed resting on his back, letting out a groan of pleasure finally being able to relax his heavy and aching muscles. You chuckled at his sorry state, and crawled into bed beside him. “You drank a lot..” You said, tucking a stray lock of Jake’s hair behind his ear. Jake breathed out a soft moan and leaned into your touch, his eyes shut. “Such a baby.” You teased, poking his distended and bloated belly. You watched as Jake slightly winced in pain. “Does it hurt that bad..?” You asked softly, now gently rubbing your hand up and down his aching belly. Jake nodded, placing his hand on your own as you rubbed his tummy. “It feels tight..” He whimpered slightly. Clearly he wasn’t prepared for how strong Na’vi alcohol was, he’d be lucky if his hangover lasted 2 days at the least. And with Jakes competitive nature, there was of course drinking games he took part in, competing with the other Omaticaya men in taking shots, attempting to show his dominance and leadership in the clan. You couldn’t help but be slightly amused at his state. Normally when Jake was drunk he acted like more of a flirt and could be aggressive at times, however here he was laying down and moaning about his stomachache like a youngling. Oh don’t get it wrong, when he was simply just tipsy early on in the night he had pulled you in quite a few times, but as the night went on he started to lose his energy and outspoken attitude and gradually feel worse to the point all he wanted was just to be comforted by your touch. 

You applied some light pressure to Jakes belly, your fingers kneading at a pocket of trapped air. As if hitting the perfect pressure point, Jake let out a lazy and deep belch. Too bloated and drunk to even be embarrassed, he let out a big sigh  if content and comfort as you felt his belly sink underneath your palms, feeling less tight then before. “That feel good?” You cooed, patting his tummy lightly. You must admit that a part of you secretly enjoyed being able to baby Jake for once instead of vice versa. Jake nodded with half lidded eyes, starting to drift off into a booze coma, occasionally letting out a soft hiccup. Assuming Jake could finally get some rest now, you leaned over and planted a soft goodnight kiss on his lips, as you went to pull away, you felt his hand gently cup the back of your head, pulling you in for more. You felt the tang of his lips upon your own, allowing no room for air. Yet these weren’t harsh or forced, they were surprisingly gentle yet firm and almost a form of gratitude for all that you’ve done for him. As you pulled away for a breath of air you raised your eye brows at Jake “What was that all about?” You teased, putting your palm on his chest as if to hold him down. You could feel his heart beat and the rise and fall of his breathing. “I just needed you..” He stumbled, breathlessly. You could see the fire in his eyes slowly burn out as he was overcome with sleep. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his

breathing slowed, finally asleep. “Skxqwng..” You muttered, a slight smile on your face as you laid yourself down beside Jake. You laid there beside Jake, a cool breeze blowing through the hollow as your heart beat in the same tune as Jakes. Here you we’re happy and sleeping beside the one you adored most, living a life together.. What more could you possibly ask for.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hey man, its me again~

(If i may overwhelm you or anything just say so, i sometimes dont understand the limits of being too annoying)

So. Hehm. I got covid. And. I was sick for a few weeks but then yesterday it became very, very bad(i presume because of stress and overexaustion, as well as due to not taking care of myself properly..) to the point of not being able to hold a bottle. I felt kinda horrible, but until night that was only the start. I could only lay in bed, overheated, and ended up falling asleep midday and having hallucinations/nightmares at night. I woke up in tears after a supposedly silly goofy dream(caine×kinger (i just knew they were a couple) arguing, well, more like kinger being very, very mad for some reason and caine looking at him with his pathetic sad eyes while trying to argue back/explain himself. Also there was zooble looking all smug at The Camera like in Office in a way only an asshole weedsmoker would do, all relaxed. Oh also it was a Zombie Apocalypse au and kinger just had a big booty for no reason) and hyperventilating, it was horrifying for some reason(maybe because i love the guys... royalteeth<3). I was Very Delirious.(i am a bit better after finally being taken seriously and given medication after

Anyway i said all this only for you to know about the dream, i liked it very much in the end, yummy angst.

So i was wondering, maaay i please req a worried itward trying to force sick!reader to go to bed but they bluntly refuse because "I have WORK to do and people to TAKE CARE of! I don't care, am just.. a little under the weather, yes, but its nothing a warm tea later wont fix. So i need to- no, i am perfecty capeable-" <- said before falling over a coffe table half dressed, almost landing on Mr. Midnights fluffy butt. When they finally give in they're kinda clingy and a bit whiny("..do you still love me?"; *stumbles out of the room to get to itward who decided to get them some tea, scaring him shitless in the process* "can we hold hands? Please")

(The dream and other info has nothing to really do with the request and has no purpose but to tell you abt the silly scenario, you can just disregard it. Anyway i'm going to sleep good noight!!♡♡♡)

Itward x sick!stubborn!Reader!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LOKG TO GET TO THIS SOBS

That said I hope youre feeling better man :( sickness sucks!! I hate sickness!! Beats up the sickness!!!

Also I know I already said this when you checked your request status, but you're not overwhelming me or annoying me!! Get down with the silliness!!

Also look at this goofball, how he almost falls

Loser

(Gently holds)

I think that he would treat most sicknesses on the same level of seriousness; like sure he wouldn't panic if you had a simple fever or cold.. but he's going to be firm on you not overworking yourself

In fact its likely that he will bar you from chores and work for at least an entire day after all your symptoms die down

Very quickly notices that something is wrong with you. I mean itward looks over a bunch of kids and kids get sick all the time, so I think he can see the signs even before you're fully ill

Asks you if anything is wrong and offers to do some of your chores around the ship (and that's assuming he even assigned you any) as well as offer to run the errands you needed to do that day

Gentle but firm when talking to you and trying to keep you in bed

Like gently pushing you back into bed and covering you up in a blanket or two

"Yes yes, I know dear that you've got work to do... but please, I need you to rest... can you do that for me?" And other similar pleas

Hes making you soup when you wobble in and ask if hes mad at you; because his tone sounded a little stressed when he last talked to you

He cant even answer before you face plant onto the floor of the ship...

Immediately rushes to your side; which likely only takes about two steps for him thanks to his long legs.. scoops you up and just

In this gentle quiet voice reassures you that hes not angry. A little stressed out for you, but not angry

Key words, "for you", not "by you"

I would say for comic value he would tie you to bed, but I feel even itward wouldnt go down to those extremes (and this man can get a little silly. I mean he literally locked Fran in a room so he could make her a surprise birthday party. Itward can get a little intense, I think)

No instead I think he would just stick by your side to ensure you're actually resting

One of admin favorite tropes; character b is sick/very tired and in bed, character a who just put them to bed goes to leave only for b to grab their sleeve/hand/arm/whatever to stop them and just. "Plesse stay"

That happens with you two, I think

And most likely, if itward doesn't have anything super time sensitive or important to do, he will stay with you

Besides, hes a skeleton from another reality. What are the chances that a human sickness can spread to him?

Well that's assuming it's a sickness from the third reality and/or one that cant jump species

But shhh

Itward pretty much becomes a mother hen and tries to prevent you from doing anything that may make your symptoms worse.. as well as caring for you via making you food, keeping you hydrated, and even carryout you around if your legs are too weak to support you

[ikeromantic]

Search and Rescue

This is a commission piece the requestor has kindly allowed me to share here. OC Athena is stubborn and insists on working despite being sick. Things do not go well, and Napoleon must go into nighttime Paris to find her. Approx. 3900 words.

Napoleon took the stairs two at a time, and missed the last three completely, leaping with one hand on the banister. He felt good today, full of a rare energy that burned through him from the first brush of Athena’s lips that morning. He wanted to find her and kiss her again.

Not that finding her was the hard part. Escaping Sebastian’s eagle-eye for a moment or two was the challenge. 

Napoleon followed the smell of baking pastries and brewing coffee. He pushed open the kitchen door expecting to find Athena bent over a breakfast tray. Instead, Sebas and Athena were faced off over the counter, glaring at each other. 

Her gold-flecked eyes were narrowed, her lips thin, while Sebas was wearing the expression of a stern tutor, his arms crossed. They both turned to look at him with something like relief. 

“You must talk some sense into -”

“Sebas is being ridiculous, tell him -”

Napoleon held up his hands for silence. They both obliged him. One of the perks, he thought, of being a former emperor and general. “One at a time, please. Sebastian?”

The historian smiled thinly. “Athena is unwell. She needs to spend the day resting.”

“I am not! I’m fine. My face is just hot from being too close to the steam.” 

“Nunuche . . .” Napoleon knew Athena would sometimes push herself too hard. Working while ill wouldn’t surprise him. 

She sighed. “Come on! You’re supposed to be on my side. I’m really fine. A little tired - which, by the way, is your fault,” she blushed as they both remembered why, “but I’m not sick. I don’t want to spend the day in bed when there are so many things that need to get done.”

“Why do you think she is sick, Sebas?”

He shrugged slightly. “Her expression is tense, her face is hot, and her hands shook when she poured the coffee.” Sebastian let out a small breath. “It might just be tiredness.”

Napoleon nodded. “Then keep an eye on her and let me know if she’s pushing herself too hard. But if Athena says she isn’t sick, I trust her.” He gave her a meaningful glance.

She straightened her apron, her eyes dropping to the countertop. “Good. Fine. I’ll let you know if I feel worse. Right now, we need to get breakfast on the table before it gets cold.”

He smiled. She could be so stubborn sometimes. Focused on whatever she thought was important at the moment. It was precious, and also a little worrying. Napoleon brushed a light kiss to her cheek. “Tell me if you start to feel worse. I will take care of the rest of your chores, alright?”

Her jaw softened. “Alright.” 

Napoleon took her hand and gently squeezed it, then left her to her work. He was worried, but he had to trust her. Forcing her to do otherwise felt wrong. Still, he promised himself he would check on her throughout the day. Just in case. 

She seemed better at breakfast, smiling as she served out the food and poured coffee. He noticed she didn’t eat much though, and wasn’t as talkative as normal. Napoleon wanted to ask her again if she was feeling ok, but instead, he tucked a lock of her honey-brown hair behind her ear and left a kiss on her temple.

“What was that for,” she asked, her cheeks turning hot. 

“Does a kiss need a reason?”

“Nooooo . . .” 

Her expression was adorable, he thought. Half pleased and half embarrassed.

After breakfast, Napoleon met Jean for sword practice. Neither of them really needed it. Jean was faster than ‘Leon but not as strong, and neither of them would tire no matter how long they sparred. Their matches ended with a tie more often than not. 

Between bouts, he stopped to towel the sweat from his face. He could see the garden beyond the window, the grass faded to a wintry silver, the plants in the garden beds all but gone - save for winter cabbage and holly. His Athena was hanging laundry to dry, her hair dancing in the cold breeze. She stumbled and caught herself on the nearby tree-trunk. 

Even at this distance, Napoleon could see the unnatural red in her cheeks and the pallor of her lips. He set down his towel, intent to rush out and bring her inside. Put her to bed, where she could rest. But he hadn’t gotten far when he saw Sebas hurry out, his lecturing finger raised. 

Perhaps, he thought, it would be better to let Athena sort this with her co-worker. Surely Sebastian could talk some sense into her. If he approached and interfered, she was likely to become even more stubborn. So Napoleon watched from the window, his brow creased with worry.

At this range, he couldn’t hear what was said. But he could see the tension in Sebas as he spoke, and the annoyed twist of Athena’s lips. The negative shake of her head, and the way she set a hand to her hip. Every line of her body was set to resist and defy.

He sighed. It seemed Sebastian’s tactics had failed. But at least Sebas was staying out with her, helping hang the rest of the basket of laundry. 

“Is everything alright?” Jean stepped up beside him, curious. 

“As fine as it gets, I think. I will have to keep an eye on Athena today.”

The languor of Jean’s posture disappeared in the flicker of an eye. He went from relaxed to ready, reaching for his practice sword. “There is danger to her?”

Napoleon chuckled. “Not like that, friend. If anyone threatens Athena, it’s herself.”

They exchanged a look of understanding. Jean knew more of self-destruction than most, and Napoleon, of self-sacrifice. 

“I’ll also watch out for her.” Jean smiled faintly. “Now, are you ready to finish our bout, or tired already?”

“Tired? Not even close.” Napoleon picked up his practice weapon and bowed to the other Frenchman. “En garde.”

When their practice wrapped up, Napoleon spent a few minutes checking up on Athena again. She was serving le Comte’s tea. He had her sitting on a chair, sipping at her own cup. Finally taking a break, ‘Leon thought. Perfect.

He slipped down to the baths to clean up. After, he promised himself to track her down and tempt her into a nap with him. It shouldn’t be too hard. Napoleon smiled at the thought of pulling her into his rumpled sheets. His thoughts wanted to take a naughty turn, but he reminded himself firmly that she wasn’t feeling well. Snuggling would be plenty, for now. 

The bath took a little longer than he intended. For one, Theo and Jean arrived shortly after he started. And for two, it felt so very good to soak his muscles in the hot water that he lost track of time. It was well past the lunch hour when he got out and dressed again. And Athena was nowhere to be found. 

Napoleon tracked Sebastian to the wine cellar, and asked if he knew where she was. 

“Town,” Sebas sighed. “She went to pick up this evening’s groceries.”

“Why would you send her to town? Alone?” 

Sebastian gave an elegant shrug. “It was more that I could not dissuade her. She did not wish to wait for a companion.” He paused, looking as if he’d bitten something bitter. “I did insist she take the carriage though. I am sure it will be fine. If she has enough energy to argue, I think she has enough to manage an errand.”

Napoleon wanted to be reassured, but he knew his beloved could be rebellious even on her deathbed. Instead of heading to his room or the library or the smoking salon, he waited on the steps at the main entrance. He sat on the bottom one and watched the road, looking for the returning carriage. 

The afternoon passed in a slow haze of anxiety. Napoleon was not used to being the one left to wait, and it grated on him. His emotions leapt from anger at Athena for being so stubborn, to panic that she was not back, to chagrin that he was so worried when she was likely fine. 

Leonardo came out for a bit, preceded by the sweet tobacco smoke that hung around him in an aura even when he wasn’t smoking one of his cigarillos. He leaned against the wall, looking relaxed. “She still out?”

Napoleon nodded. 

“Long time for an errand, yeah?”

“I’m going to give it til sunset. She sometimes stops for a pastry and talks to the cafe owner.”

Leo grunted. “If she’s not back, let me know.”

Napoleon nodded again. He appreciated the Italian’s concern. 

Leonardo stayed out long enough to finish his cigarillo, then patted 'Leon on the shoulder and went back inside. 

Napoleon spent the remaining hours of his vigil alone, but he felt a little calmer. Leo had that effect. 

Just as the golden disc of the sun touched the tips of the distant buildings in Paris, the carriage came around a bend and toward the mansion’s gates. Napoleon leapt from his perch on the stairs and ran down the drive to the gate. He had it open before the lead horse reached it. 

The carriage driver pulled through and drove the horses toward the stable. Napoleon trotted after. He threw open the carriage door as it rolled to a stop, but the inside was empty. 

“Sorry, friend. The lady didn’t come back and I needed to get these beasties fed and watered.” The carriage driver leapt down from his seat and began unhooking the horses. 

“You left her there?”

The driver nodded, unconcerned. “Not the first time, sir, if you don’t mind me saying. She’s got a mind of her own and a timetable to match. But don’t worry yourself. She can hire a ride back or even walk it. It’s not far.”

Napoleon grabbed him and spun him away from the horses and into the side of the carriage. It rocked under the impact. “You left my love alone in Paris at night?” He snarled the question, unable to control his surge of anger. 

The driver was not easily bothered. He just nodded and tried to tug his jacket out of ‘Leon’s hands.

Cold rage slid through Napoleon’s body, like ice freezing across a flowing river, it felt as if the flow of his blood and the beat of his heart slowed to a crawl. He knew he should not take out his anger on this man, who was just doing a job as best he saw it. But his anger spoke in a voice louder than reason. He drew back a fist.

“'Leon, let him go.” Leonardo’s voice cut through Napoleon’s wrath, a hot blade splitting open the ice. 

Napoleon dropped his hands to his sides. 

“Thanks, mister.” The driver gave Leo a nod as he pulled away from Napoleon. “If it’s alright, I’m just gonna finish up with the horses.”

“You should probably go home now,” Leonardo advised. “I’ll make sure the carriage horses are seen to.”

The driver paused and then gave a grunt of agreement. He left quickly and did not look back.

Napoleon took a breath, surprised to find he was shaking. “I’ll put the horses away for the evening. Saddle up my horse to take to town.”

“Good. I’ll come with you.”

'Leon gave Leonardo a nod, his gratitude too much for words. He wasn’t sure what he would say if he spoke now. He wanted to howl. He wanted to cry. He wanted to beat the walls. But more than anything, he just wanted to see Athena and make sure she was alright. That not a hair on her head was harmed. 

Any woman alone in Paris at night was in danger. It was the trouble of any large city, where men and women were desperate. Life became cheap when you lived so close to death, afterall. And she was ill, which only compounded her vulnerability. Visions of might-be and could-be took turns in his mind’s eye, and none of them were good. 

Napoleon barely registered the work of readying his horse to ride. It was only when he was mounted that he realized Jean, Arthur, and Theo had joined Leonardo in the stables. 

“Sebas is staying in case she returns,” Theo told him as he met Napoleon’s worried gaze. “And Vincent is running a message to le Comte and Mozart. They’re at an event tonight.”

“I’m sure they’ll come help us search for her as soon as they know what’s happened,” Arthur added. 

“Of course,” Napoleon replied, his tone wooden. He felt he did not have an ounce of emotion to spare right now. It was all wrapped up in his fears. 

The ride to town felt surreal. Cold wind numbed his face and hands, until his skin felt as icy as his heart. The sky overhead churned with clouds, first reflecting the scarlet and then the deep-bruised purple of the coming night. What stars there were above the riders disappeared behind a screen of heather-gray clouds and a thin, damp mist that devoured their breath and left dew-drops on their hair and clothes.

Paris rose out of the fog. The red glow of torches and the golden warmth of a smattering of electric lights illuminated the shadowed behemoths of the buildings along the lane. They paused in a small square, where a fountain whispered in the center, water pouring from the hands of some goddess or another. 

Here, a quiet discussion resolved in the men splitting to widen their search. Napoleon promised to meet them in this square when the clock struck ten, even if he had not found Athena yet. He mostly meant it. Afterall, one of them might find her first.

Napoleon set off through the winding side streets, leaving his horse tied at a public stall. This was the market district, but in the evening, most of the stalls packed up and the shopfronts closed. There were only a handful of sellers out and about, offering cigars or flowers from their little carts. 

He paused at each shadowed alleyway and overhang, looking for Athena. When he ran across some young men, huddled over a small fire, he paid them a few coins to help him search. But street after street, there were only the expected denizens of Paris at night. Finely dressed gents on their way to Montmartre for entertainment. Street toughs lounging near less reputable establishments. Working ladies displaying their wares. 

For every person Napoleon saw, he stopped to ask if they saw a woman with light brown hair, tied with a red bow. She was wearing a heavy skirt of dark wool, embroidered with little fleur-de-lis patterns in red at the hem and sleeves. No one admitted to seeing her, though one flower-seller told him to check one of the nearby squares. There was a street performance there, he said, and something like that would surely draw a lady’s attention.

Napoleon did not think Athena would detour for that, not when she was bringing home groceries for their dinner. Still, he turned down that road and walked along it until he saw the edges of a crowd. It wasn’t a very big crowd, and no wonder. The performers on the small, wood platform looked down on their luck. Worn clothes, greasy hair, and a look of long illness haunted their faces and forms. 

The audience was no better off. They were a pack of coal-stained men and loose women, shouting crudely at the actors on stage. Half-starved children darted through the throng, picking pockets and dodging kicks. 

Napoleon grabbed one of them as he ran past, and asked him the question he’d asked everyone so far. 

“No sir. Never seen no lady like that,” the boy replied, licking his lips. His eyes darted nervously away from Napoleon’s intense gaze. When he began to pull away, Napoleon lifted him by his shoulders.

“Are you lying to me?”

“N-no?” 

Napoleon knelt until his nose almost touched. “I love this woman. Anyone that helps me find her will be rewarded. Those that lie and delay me . . .” He left the threat unspoken. 

“Ok! Alright! Please . . . don’t hurt me, mister. I can tell you what I saw. For a price.”

'Leon counted out three heavy francs. “This to start. More if I find her.”

The boy’s eyes went wide and he snatched the coins from Napoleon’s hand. “I’ll show you.”

He led Napoleon away from the light and the crowd and down a series of narrow alleys, where the stench of night-soil and rotting garbage made the air thick and hard to breathe. They came out on a main thoroughfare, where a bridge led across the Seine.

Below, several small campfires kept groups of the homeless and poor warm through the night. It was to this camp that the boy led 'Leon. The people huddled by their fires barely looked up at the newcomers, too taken with their own misery to notice or care. In one of the coveted spots under the wide span of the bridge, they stopped beside a group of figures bundled against the cold. Some looked to be sleeping, while others whispered to each other, and some simply stared at the dark water of the river.

“Missus, this gent is looking for his lady. Thought you might have seen her. Girl with a red hem?” The boy’s voice had a tinge of fearful respect as he spoke.

One of the ragged bundles stood. The woman’s face was cracked with age, the skin sun-dark and wind-raw. Dark, hungry eyes stared out at Napoleon with distrust and greed. “Might have seen the like. What’s it to me?”

“A reward, if she’s here and unharmed.” Napoleon felt for these people. Their pain and poverty was wrong - but he would not forgive them if in their desperation, they caused his Athena harm. 

The woman gestured sharply, walking toward one of the piles of rags near the small fire. “Might be this is the skirt you want. Mind, looking isn’t free.”

Napoleon crouched, giving the woman an indiscriminate handful of money, paper and coin alike. Because it was her. His Athena. Her ribbon was gone, and so was her fine dress. Whatever groceries she had, likewise stolen. But she was here. Alive. He lightly touched her cheek. It was hot, feverish and dry. 

He lifted her, stinking rags and all, cradling her to his chest. 

“Hey! Hey! I said looking wasn’t free! Didn’t say what price to taking!” 

‘Leon spared her a glance, reminding himself it was only this hard life that made such hard people. “I will send along your reward. I need to see to my lady first.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his words or his glare that made the old woman back down. He didn’t care either. His Athena was in his arms, her body wracked with shivers. Napoleon pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Nunuche. What trouble you make.” A tear escaped the corner of his eye, releasing the bitterness of his worry so that he could finally smile. 

Athena’s lids fluttered and lifted enough that he could see the edge of her gold-flecked eyes. “Napoleon?” Her voice was as soft as butterfly wings.

“I’ve got you, mon petit chou. I’m taking you home.”

“Home.” Her lips curled in a tiny smile and her eyes closed again.

Arthur was waiting for him at their designated square. He took one look at Athena’s condition and sighed. “Your bird really must realize humans have limits. You can’t flitter around the city when you’ve gotten sick.” He gave her a sip of some foul-smelling liquid in a small metal flask, and then helped Napoleon mount, settling Athena in front of him.

“I’ll let the others know you’re headed home with her,” Arthur said.

Napoleon nodded. “There are some people there by the bridge. A woman and a boy. Please let Comte know they are to be rewarded. They kept my nunuche . . . alive.” He considered that theft and possibly kidnapping were a strange kind of safe, but better than dead. When Arthur gave his agreement, Napoleon took off for the mansion. The ride back felt as if it took hours too long. He was painfully aware of Athena’s thready breath and the pulsing heat of her fever through the bundled rags she was wrapped in. 

At the mansion, he lifted her carefully down and brushed past a worried looking Sebastian. “Tea and soup, Sebas. And some of those little petit fors!” Napoleon called back. He carried Athena to a private bath, smaller than the shared one downstairs. It had just one porcelain tub, barely large enough for Athena to stretch out end to end. 

He filled it with lukewarm water, and stripped the rags from her. Someone had stolen her dress and underthings, and left her muddy and covered in soot beneath the cloth they’d bundled her in. Napoleon did not let himself wonder what they had planned for his love. All that mattered was that she was unharmed, save for the illness she’d let run unchecked.

Athena barely stirred as he set her into the tub and began to wipe away the grime. He gently rinsed her hair and made sure not a speck of dirt was left on her. Then he lifted her out and dried her off. The whole time, a steady stream of reassurances poured from his lips. Telling her again and again how worried he’d been, how much he missed her, that she must promise to take better care. He could not - would not - live without her. 

Dried and dressed in a light cotton nightgown, Napoleon then carried her to his room. Sebastian had understood what was needed perfectly, and left a tray of clear broth and an herbal tisane on a tray there. 

With steady hands, he fed her a few spoonfuls of broth and made her finish the tea. She didn’t wake, but murmured in her daze, nonsense sounds and sighs. 

Napoleon curled up beside her and set her head on his chest. Then he covered them both in a mountain of blankets and drifted into uneasy sleep. His thoughts were still preoccupied, the tension still worming its way through his limbs.

It was not until dawn that he finally relaxed. Dawn, when a pair of gold-flecked eyes met his in that soft-lit witching hour, a pair of rose-pink lips pressed a kiss to his mouth. He pushed a damp bit of hair from her cheek. Then held her tight, so much that his arms ached. 

“Never do that to me again, nunuche. I cannot. I cannot be without you. Not for a moment. You precious, stubborn, beautiful woman.”

She laughed softly, and nuzzled his neck, leaving a little kiss at his shoulder. “It wasn’t on purpose,” she sighed. “But I promise, next time I’ll rest. When I’m sick.” 

“I’ll hold you to it. A single sneeze, and I’ll put you to bed.” 

Athena pretended to pout. “Just one?”

“Just one,” he confirmed, resting his chin atop her head.

“Sounds like an excuse to keep me in your bed.”

He chuckled. “It might be. Are you complaining?”

Her answering kiss said no. A thousand times no. This was where she wanted to be, wrapped in his arms and held aloft by his love. 

[star--nymph]

4, 19, 30, and 31 for eury and cullen c:

OC Ship Ask

4. Has either OC ever gotten a hickey off the other? What was their reaction?

Eurydice has a thing for biting, so Cullen has been the victim of more than just hickeys over the years. Cullen has mixed feelings for it because he very clearly loves being bitten (especially in the moment) but the side glances he gets the next day, Maker. He's heard every damn joke in the book about it. He's tried to half-heartedly stop her before she does but, ya know, he really doesn't want her to. At best, he's stopped her and told her where she can bite him so he doesn't show, which is really the best compromise they can come to because unless Cullen says 'I hate that, stop it' Eurydice's gonna do it. And he's never going to do that considering it gets him just a tad excited to see what's she's done to him in the mirror next day. I mean, she's offered to heal the mark away too and you'll notice he waves it away. All I'm saying is hmmmmmmmmmmm.

19. How good are they are communication?

At first, no. They're both notoriously bad at discussing feelings and would rather jump into the Fade (again) than sit down and deal whatever's actually bothering them. The thing about Eurydice and Cullen, though, is that I don't think they could have survived as a couple without communication. Eurydice needs things to be made clear to her or she just won't notice it--and if she knows something is wrong but not what, she's liable to keep asking until it blows up in her face. And frankly I think Cullen needs to be able to say what he needs to say without being judged for it. He spent decades containing the worst of his trauma and all it's done is hurt him and everyone around him. The good thing is they are also two pragmatic people and tend to attack problems head on. The two of them sitting down and saying right out that there won't be secrets, or double meanings between them. They will talk about it because they have to. Are they always good at it? No. But, that's why it takes work. You can't change yourself over night, no matter how much you love a person.

30. Describe how one character would cheer the other up after a hard day.

When Eurydice was nearly sick with stress during Trespasser (both from trials of motherhood and from political bullshit), Cullen made a day where he took all her mounts out to an open field out in the country, and had a picnic made for them. They left the children to be watched in Skyhold and he brought her out there, told her she can do whatever she wanted--the field is big enough for her to race any one of her mounts, and they're all content to graze and relax with her. It was one of the rare times he's ever seen Eurydice honest to God cry, nearly collapsing his arms from the sheer relief. They spend the day and night there, pretending like maybe this could be their lives forever. It couldn't be, but for the time being, it was a wonderful dream.

31. How would they describe one another.

Eurydice: "...Brave. Inflexible. Loud. Very loud. When he must make his opinion known, he speaks like the crows caw. Caw caw caw. For hours. Stubborn, stuck in his ways--like a...a stick in the mud. That is the term, yes? Yes, A stick in the mud. I've see halla like him who will ram their heads repeatedly into the gate because they are convinced one more slam will get them out of it. They will not notice they are bleeding because of it or they were put there to rest, they only keep going because they disagree with the situation. That is very much like Cullen. I told him once and he stared at me for a good minute with his jaw twitching. I believe that means he did not enjoy the analogy, but then I am not good at those so perhaps that was it. ...I occurs to me that I am not describing him correctly. I am doing my best but you are asking me to put him into words and I can not. I can not. You have to see him to know him. He is irrational and tiresome and broken and-and bright. Bright when he is happy, when he is brave. When he fights and when he tries. Even when he's hurt, he will go on because it is not him to give up. He does not know how. I have had him weep in my lap and beg for lyrium, and when those tears dry, I have watched him force himself up and say 'to work!' He would die then...then give up his capability to change and be better. Ma ena'vun. Evanuris aan atish’an ar hamin. Hamin." Cullen: "You want me to... -clears his throat- Even if this was any of your business I wouldn't know where to-- -sighs- The Inquisitor--Eurydice, that is, is a force unto herself. I doubt there is a single person on this continent who could string a single sentence together that would properly describe her--except maybe Varric and he'd only embellish everything to a ludicrous degree." "You're stalling, Commander." "S-stalling! I'm not--Eurydice is...unimaginable, alright? She scares me, she enthralls me, she frustrates me to no end. I've been baffled into silence more times than I could ever count by her just opening her mouth, much less by everything she does. You're asking me to put into mere words a woman who has sewn asunder in the sky back together and lived after a mountain fell upon her, and who is so obsessed with a baby halla that I've witnessed her trying to carry the thing up six flights of stairs. I feel like we've somehow trapped an otherworldly creature sometimes. And--Maker--despite all the blood she's spilled and all the questionable decisions she's made, I've never met someone who is so utterly...kind. Not to most but when she lov--when she likes you, she's the kindest soul. I don't...know what else you want me to say. Just go watch her; you'll be at a loss for words as well, I expect."