#he could pour hot soup in MY lap

[roxygen22]

SNIFFLES

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

Summary: Ben/Bean (age 2) and reader (mom) are sick. Willy takes care of you both.

C/W: Illness but nothing graphic

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You hadn't experienced this level of exhaustion since Ben was a newborn. The poor dear had been down with a cold for three days now. His hacking cough and stuffy nose kept him from getting comfortable enough to rest well at night, causing him to be lethargic and clingy all day. Granted, you enjoyed the snuggles, but you would give anything to have your happy, energetic Ben back. Unfortunately, though, you caught his cold with the constant closeness.

Willy was accustomed to coming home to happy noises of reading, playing, or cooking. But on the third day of illness in the Wonka household, there was nothing but silence to greet him upon entry except the occasional sniffles coming from the study. Willy came around the sofa with a pitiful pout on his face. You and Ben were just lounging on the sofa staring at the fire. You had a book in hand, but neither of you had the energy to look at it.

"Oh, [y/n]. You, too?" Willy took in the sight of your pale skin and dark circles under your eyes as he picked Ben up from your lap. Normally very excited to see his papa, the boy just nestled his head into the crook of Willy's neck and sucked his thumb. He could feel heat radiating from the little body. Willy then gently rested the back of his hand against your forehead. "Both of you are running a fever."

"I believe it," you responded weakly after clearing your throat. "My skin hurts. I'm hot and cold at the same time, and I can't breathe through my nose. Ben hasn't been able to get comfortable all day, either."

"I'm home now, so you should go rest."

"No, I need to get dinner started," you argued while trying (but failing) to sit up on the couch.

"Nonsense. You can't pour from an empty cup, my sweet," Willy chided as he helped you up with his spare hand. "Why don't you go take a hot steaming bath while I make my mamma's soup recipe? It's sure to help you feel better." You opened your mouth to speak before he held up a finger, "Before you say it, don't worry about Bean. I've got him. Let me take care of you, too."

You conceded. You knew arguing further with Willy once his mind was made up was an exercise in futility in your current state. Most of the time, your stubborness rivaled his, but not this day. Your fatigue outweighed the guilt of temporarily relinquishing your [self-imposed] role of caretaker.

You made your way to the bath, thankful for Willy's contraption that provided hot water on demand.* Once the tub was filled, you sank down into the water with a long sigh. Your muscles protested as you went about your normal ablutions, but the steam did wonders for your ability to breathe. You felt semi-human again as you stepped out and toweled off.

Willy was a bit slow-going on the soup since one arm was busy supporting the toddler on his hip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your boys. Their matching curly hair was in disarray thanks to the humidity from the soup. Ben looked up, alerting Willy to your presence in the kitchen with a quiet "mamma" as he reached for you. That was a rarity when Willy was home, preferring you only if he was tired or sick. Ben and his papa were as thick as thieves.

Willy turned around from the stove to look at you as he handed you the boy. "It's nice to see some color in your cheeks again, even if it's just from the warmth of the bath. Did it help?"

"A bit. I can actually breathe through my nose at the moment."

He chuckled and went back to stirring. "Good, good. Soup should be ready in a couple of minutes." You set Ben in his high chair and started to grab bowls and bread before Willy good-naturedly scolded you. "Nuh-uh. Sit." You pursed your lips and glared but complied nonetheless.

Willy set the table and dished out the soup. He scooted Ben's high chair closer to help him eat so you could focus on feeding yourself. The soup looked amazing, leaving you longing to actually be able to smell or taste it. Instead, you just enjoyed the warmth as it soothed your scratchy throat.

The family slowly ate their dinner in relative silence. Unable to smell or taste, Ben quickly lost interest and begged to be held. Willy obliged and set the boy in his lap. Having ate your fill, you pushed the bowl back and stood up to clear the table.

Willy tutted at you. "[Y/N]. I've. Got. This. Now. Go. To. Bed." Ben, however, was not ready to let you out of his sight. Reaching up to you from Willy's lap with grabby hands and pouty lip, he whimpered. Before you could react, Willy turned the boy around to face him instead. "Now Bean, Mamma takes good care of us all the time. It's our turn to take care of her. She is going to go night night a little early. You and I, little man, are going to read a story after we clean up the kitchen." Over Ben's head, you saw Willy mouth to you, "Go."

You smiled, blew a kiss, and quickly made your exit before Ben turned around. It felt deceitful, but if anyone could keep Ben distracted, it was Willy. You could faintly hear Willy bustling around the kitchen singing the clean-up song without further complaint from the boy.

Satisfied that Ben was in good hands and relatively happy, you readied yourself for bed. After two nights of interrupted sleep and a full day of fever, you were practically unconscious before your head even hit the pillow. You slept solidly for hours before you woke with a start. Why is it quiet? Where are the boys?

You tiptoed to Ben's room, avoiding the planks in the floor that tended to creak. You found Willy in the rocking chair, feet propped up and holding Ben upright on his chest so the boy could breathe freely. You picked up a blanket from Ben's bed and covered them both, taking in the sweet scene. "Rest well, my loves," you whispered before retreating back to bed.

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*Remember, Willy is an inventor, so it's totally plausible that this fictional character invented the precursor to the modern water heater, lol.

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Find more "My Little Cocoa Bean" shorts on my masterlist.

[linos-luna]

yandere!hyunjin x reader, i seen you did something like this for han and felix where you just described their behavior before and after the reader triggered them/pissed them off to the point they no longer hid their obsessive and aggressive behavior🦅

Yandere!Hyunjin 🔪

♡ ————————————————————— ♡

As a Pisces, Hyunjin takes romance very serious… perhaps too serious. He needs to be the perfect boyfriend and you must be the perfect girlfriend. Simple right? He just needs to steer you in the right direction.

Secretly Obsessive. He doesn’t want to show it too much but he is. He’s desperate for your love and doesn’t understand why you don’t just listen to him.

Possessive. He hates when other people look at you. You may not notice but he constantly gives people the side eye.

- no one can look at his darling

- he must know where you are at all times

- You may not realize that he’s controlling everything around you

- most of your friends don’t talk to you because he got rid of them

- he chased away your family

- he picks what you wear and what you eat

- he wants you to listen to him.

- that’s what a good girlfriend does right?

- but sometimes you resist and he hates that. Why cant you just listen?

- he’ll get angry and leave before doing anything he’ll regret.

- but don’t push him

- or else you will regret it

~~~~~~~~ ♡

Hyunjin doesn’t like you on the phone. And if you are on the phone, you shouldn’t talk to anyone he doesn’t like.

He doesn’t like you talking to certain friends of yours because he knows they can see through his façade.

So his anger wasn’t a surprise when he found you in the bedroom on the phone with a friend.

“Y/n!”

You looked at him for a moment then turned around, going back to your conversation.

“Y/n!” He yelled again before snatching your phone away.

“Hey!”

“What did I tell you about being on the phone without permission?!” He yelled.

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Excuse me?!” He was surprised at your boldness.

“You always think you can tell me what to do!” You yelled with a frown. “That’s not how relationships work.”

Hyunjin wasn’t sure what to say and threw your phone to the floor. It may not be completely broken but definitely damaged.

“What’s wrong with you?!” You say while getting up only for Hyunjin to leave the room.

You followed after him, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Why did you do that?!” You said while following him to the kitchen.

“Do what?”

“Break my phone!”

“I didn’t break your phone.” He replied with a smile.

“Hyunjin!”

“Go sit down, sweetheart. It’s time for dinner.” He said this so calm and causally, it was weird.

“Hyunj—!”

“And why don’t you call me something else? Something more loving.” He interrupted, looking around as if he’s thinking about it. “Hm. Maybe jinnie? Honey? Baby? It only fair. You are my darling.”

You were unsettled by his tone shift and left to go sit down.

Your boyfriend came back with soup, setting the bowl in front of you along with a spoon.

“I love you so much, that I cook for you baby.” He said while sitting down, taking a spoonful of soup and holding it up.

“Jinnie, what are you doing?”

“Well I’m feeding you, silly.” He said with a condescending smile. “You’re hungry right?”

“Not really—”

You screamed in pain as poured the hot soup from the spoon to your bare lap.

“Why would you—!”

Hyunjin did it again without saying another word.

“Stop! That hurts!”

“Hm. Are you going to eat it now?” He asked while tilting his head.

“Why are you doing this?!” You cried.

“Why?!” He suddenly stood up, looking over you. “You don’t seem to appreciate all I do for you, baby.”

“Because you’re too controlling!” You yelled back, gaining some confidence as you stood up. “This isn’t how relationships are supposed to—!”

Before you could finish your statement, Hyunjin grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to the bedroom.

“Ow! Stop!” You cried while trying to resist him, but he was too strong.

He threw you to the floor and stood over you with his arms crossed.

“I’m sick of you not listening to me! I love you! Why don’t you love me?!” He said the last sentence as if he was on the brink of crying. “I do it all because I love you, baby!”

“Jinnie, this is a sick form of—”

“Of course you don’t understand!” He interrupted, obviously frustrated. “It’s all those outside influences! But I know you’re a good girl. Your the sweetest girl ever!”

You were both scared and confused. Yeah he’s always been a bit controlling but now it sounded more like an obsession with you… a weird one in an unrealistic fantasy.

“So… my sweet girl. You’re going to stay here:” he said while trying to calm himself.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not leaving this house— no actually, you can’t even leave this room unless I let you out,” he said with a snarky smile. “Not until you learn to be a good girlfriend.”

“Jinnie, you can’t do this!” You cried with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry baby.” He kneeled down and rubbed your cheek. “I know you love me and will be a better girlfriend soon.”

He helped you up and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Like right now. We’re going to watch a movie and cuddle. Right baby?”

You only looked at him and nodded, not wanting to make him angry.

“See. It’s easy.” He smiled while getting the remote and turning the tv on that was in the room. He motioned for you to sit next to him and you did.

You quietly did so and he cuddled up against you.

“What should we watch, sweetheart?”

“Anything… a-anything you want, jinnie…” you replied shakily.

“Aw baby. How sweet of you.” He said before kissing your head and looking for some kind of romance movie.

“I love you, y/n… I hope you know that.” Hyunjin said while hugging you a little. “No one will ever tear us apart.”

“… I… I love you too, Jinnie…”

[rimaiahwrites]

My sick little baby (a mini read)

Finally finished this, been sitting in my draft for about a year and a half tbh:( When reader gets sick and and anddd she’s super subby and eren is soo daddy (fave eren) and just wanna baby her :) Sweet 🧁 (not proof read mb lol I’ll edit later)

When y/n got home from school she didn’t feel the best but she still pushed herself to clean up a little and make dinner for her husband Eren before he gets home from work, but when she woke up the next morning her head was pounding and her stomach was dropped when she sat up and the next thing she knew she was up and running to the bathroom and leaning into the toilet letting the rest of last nights dinner out. When she was done her eyes were watering and she was dizzy as she walked back to her bed.

She pouted when she realized her husband had already left for work and laid on his side of the bed. It was not long before tears was streaming down her face because she hated being sick especially when her daddy wasn’t there with her. She grabbed her phone from the other side of the bed and called him. She was in no shape to take care of herself and she knew it. It rang twice before his smooth voice hit her ears. “Wassup baby?”

“Papa…I don’t feel good.” Her lip quivered and her voice cracked feeling her stomach cramp up. “baby what’s the matter?” He cooed stopping his hand movement from writing on his paper now feeling worried for his little princess.

“Can you come home? I think I have the flu.” She whined, wishing he was home already to make her feel better. “You did feel hot when I was in bed with you this morning…you need daddy to come home to take care of you?”

“Yes please I need you, I already throw up and I feel so weak..” she whispered. That was all she needed to say before he was packing his suitcase up and headed to his car to get to his beloved wife.

When he got home he found her curled on the couch wrapped in her pink and white fluffy blanket watching finding Nemo. When he sat his keys down her head popped up he could tell what kind of mood she was in with the pout on her lips, his subby whiny baby.

“Oh my poor babyy.” Eren cooed picking her up bridle style sitting her on his lap. Her bottom lip wobbled and she grabbed on to him tightly. “My princess doesn’t feel good?” She shook her head cuddling his neck. “Have you eaten yet?” She let out a quiet no in the sweetest voice and it melted Erens heart. He sat her back down and headed to the kitchen looking around for something to give her to eat then his mom’s chicken noodle soup recipe popped up in his head. Whenever eren was sick as a kid she would make him chicken noodle soup and crackers and it alway made him feel better..So he got to it, it was a easy and quick recipe and it took no longer than 15 minutes, He also made a her a cup of liquid iv in her pink and white teddy bear water bottle.

Erens pov—

“Here drink this princess…” I shook her awake and gave her the cup, her shaky hands reached out to grab it. My baby was so weak it broke my heart, she was mostly dehydrated from barely drinking or eating for the whole morning. I put my hand on her forehead and she was burning up, i cringed a fever was a good sign because I knew that her body was fighting off whatever it was but I definitely needed to check her temperature.

I went and got the thermometer and her medicine, soon as she saw me coming with the bubblegum pink bottle of liquid she whined loudly, being very overly dramatic. She hated taking medicine with a passion but of course I wasn’t going to just let her sit there with a runny nose and a headache and not do anything.

I poured her a big tablespoon of the medication and lifted it to her mouth, her lips sat in a pout.

I sighed, “baby please open up, it’s gonna make you feel better, promise.” She shook her head no, she was in no way ever a bad girl but as soon as she got sick she was very testy with me.

I hated to get stern with her at a time like this, her eyes glossy and lips pouted so prettily on her face.

“Open, now I’m not going to say it again.” I tilted her head up with my two fingers.

“But pap—“ soon as she opened her mouth I shoved the spoon in her mouth, her little dramatic ass gagged as she swallowed it down, scrunched up face like she just teated the most foul thing in the world. I chuckled as I rolled my eyes.

“This will make you feel better promise, now let’s get some food in you.” She whined and rubbed her stomach.

“My tummy hurts I don’t wanna’ papa” she whimpered but of course she still ate, because no way was I about to let her go all day without eating or drinking. She drank half her cup of water and was all ready feeling a little better.

I grabbed her and carried her up stairs to our bathroom to run her a hot bath.

My bath was a jet tub so when I poured some of her favorite bubble bath there was more bubbles than water at this point, I made the water hot because she normally liked to be boiled alive every time she takes a bath or shower.

“I just wanna lay down..” I turned around to see her standing in the bathroom door way, her teddy bear in hand.

“I know but you’re sweaty baby, C’mere.” When her head touched my chest her whole body went limp and supported its-self against me.

“Let’s get you outta these clothes” I mumble, tossing her shirt to the other side of the bathroom, into her hamper. I lifted her up and placed her in the tub. I smile, Her aching body begins to loosen up from the warm water, her chunky little cheeks squashed from pressing them against the cold edge of the tub finally feeling like she’s able to relax she lies her head down on the edge of the tub, whimpering every time I gently message her scalp. Her once fresh braids now a bit frizzed for tossing and turning on my cotton pillow case without her silk hello kitty bonnet.

“You feel good baby?” I smile, she nods her head only before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. I grabbed her bath rag and wiped her runny nose gently trying to not irritate it more than it already was, red and raw from blowing it all day. I wash her body, starting from face to chest, to her bottom half to her feet, trying not wake her.

I grabbed her towel and carry her, her legs dangling at my side secured with my hands interlocking under her butt. She let a huffed breath, coddling her face into my neck.

I putt lotion on her whole body, head to toe. I placed my shirt that looked like a dress, stopping mid thigh to her.

“Papa?” I heard softly, looking up from sliding her panties on. Her big brown eyes filling with tears. Worried, I moved up to her face and wiped them with my thumb stroking her face. Her skin so soft and clean

“What’s the matter pumpkin?”

“I..I love you so much, you’re the best husband I could have ever asked for, you take such good care of me.” She cried her lip wobbling, my poor baby was always so emotional whenever she was sick.

“I know baby, I know, I love you and I’ll always take care of you. Through sickness and health till death do us part baby I mean it.” I grin seeing a giggle creep through her pouty face.

“You’re so corny.” She smiled, for the first time today.

“I know as long as I get to see that beautiful I’ll say whatever.” I mumble kissing her lips softly.

“You feel better?” She nodded closing her eyes briefly before answering me with a quiet yes. “M’ sleepy ..”

“Yeah? Alright let’s go to sleep.” I pulled her to the top of the bed and wrapped my arms around her, her arms tucked between us both, while her head rests in my chest.

My sick little baby .. I thought before kissing her on the forehead and drifting off to sleep myself

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — half return

track 4: the horse | masterlist | track 6: workaholic methodology

translation notes: nanay = mom; lola = grandma; ulam = a filipino dish that goes with rice; sinigang = a soupy dish containing meat, veggies, fish sauce, etc.

the air conditioning rattles inside the dining room, the noise serving as background noise to a scene that reminds hajime of home. an amalgamation of steamed bok choy, marinated pork belly, and acrid fish sauce wafts through the air. this week's ulam is sinigang. her favorite, he recalls.

the empty space beside the pair leaves a bitter taste of emptiness and longing on their tongues, but neither expresses it, nor are they aware of the other's parallel feelings. instead, they sit in comfortable silence while hajime's nanay spoons the soup into a serving bowl and his lola plates the freshly cooked rice, the scene reminiscent of childhood summers spent together under the blazing heat with the promise of good, hearty food.

billows of steam dance up, up, and up into the ceiling and drift away into nothingness, all while two chairs squeak against wood, alerting the table of the women's arrival. tooru thanks them for the meal excitedly. something is amiss.

"it's too hot to eat sinigang in this weather," his mother scolds, despite carefully pouring a spoonful of the soup into her own bowl of rice. "you should've asked me to cook something cooler. i would've been fine with cooking those korean cold noodles you always like."

"it's fine," her son responds earnestly. his words are slightly muffled from the bits of meat and veggies stuffed in his cheeks, a habit he hadn't grown out of since his youth. "it tastes good, anyways."

tooru's eyes light up with his own taste of the meal. "really good. it tastes really, really good. they don't have food like this in argentina, you know."

hajime's lola chuckles at his remark, her back flushed against her seat and her hands folded on her lap. "i'm sure you missed this," she remarks. something in her tone is airy yet playful. "hajime told me about your travels. have you found any lovers overseas? any romance?"

"oh, yes! it's good for you guys to find someone to settle with at your age," his mother chirps in, and the two men are choked with shock.

unease riddles itself into both of their bones. there's a truthful, honest answer that they're both capable of crafting in their heads. but if there is one thing they have in common, it's that they're stubborn. so, together (unknowingly), they push away their respective realities and opt for something vague. something that prances around the bushes of what they know to be factual.

the argentinian is the first to speak up. "i have a little bit of an interest in someone, but i don't think i plan on doing anything about it soon." there's an awkward chuckle tacked onto the end of his statement and a crack in his syllables, but he tries desperately not to think about it. he glances over at hajime in hopes that whatever his friend says will save them from the pressure.

"same for me. work's too busy these days, i can't focus on those things right now, nanay."

much to his demise, it doesn't save them, at all.

--

"...and we walked around the villages for quite a bit, talked to a few locals; it was fun. i think the scenery helped with my writing block."

the man across from her wears a corporate smile and it irks her, almost. he's not the ideal image of a manager. she'd envisioned something more friendly, something therapeutic, far from the person sitting on her couch writing down notes dutifully.

"that's good," he exclaims absentmindedly as he continues to jot down note after note after note. she wonders what he could possibly be writing about. her poor time management skills? her diminishing motivation and lack of individualism in a growing sea of competition? she doesn't want to imagine it.

he pauses for a moment. the notebook in his hands plops neatly onto the coffee table, and his hands settle onto his lap. it's too professional. too robotic. "have you considered going on tour?"

"sorry?"

"well, i was talking to your label, and they believed that it'd be a fitting time for you to do a tour around the country considering the rapid success of your most recent album." the man's stare burns laser-ignited holes into her flesh, as if he isn't asking her to consider the offer, but rather telling her to do it.

"but i thought they wanted me to begin working on a new album," she quips. there's a small edge of bitterness to her voice that leaks out against her will.

her manager, with all the neutrality and competence he can muster, chuckles softly at her concern. "of course, we already thought about that. we were wondering if you would like to try having a third party produce your instrumentals, in order to lessen the burden and ensure faster production. all you'd have to do while on tour is work on your lyrics and record. it's time efficient, and distributes all the responsibilities as opposed to you handling everything on your end."

she wants to laugh at him, but she knows it's improper and rude when all he's trying to do is maximize her profit -- the job that he was assigned to do. but she can't quite fight the twitch beneath her eye and the shifting of her weight in her disturbance. "look, i understand you're trying to help me, but-" her breath hitches. a tinge of anger bubbles up in her throat and she's scared it's going to make things worse. her hands grab at the fabric of her pants as if to restrain herself from unleashing something she doesn't quite mean. "i've been doing everything the same way every year -- i've composed every song, i've written every lyric, all the music videos are directed by me, and i don't get why you would think changing any of that would help."

anxiety crawls up the surface area of her spine and clings onto her. her manager is silent, evidently deep in thought, and his eyes drift away to the window. his hand smooths his hair away from his forehead, the action embedding some sort of fear into her that she knows is misplaced. "let's talk about this another time. i'll give you a while to consider the deal. i hope you can compose a clear and concise answer by then," he speaks, his tone far too formal for her liking. he excuses himself before she can respond, and before she can think about what he said, the door closes (nearly slams) shut behind her.

she can't help the small yet fleeting curse that spills from her lips, nor the sigh that escapes shortly after. irritation is a cruel and ugly feeling, she decides.

but the door squeaks open just as quickly as it was shut. footsteps -- heavy, loud, and slow -- approach the couch from behind. when she looks up, she's met with a pair of faces looking down at her.

"we brought drinks," tooru chirps out in an attempt to alleviate the friction coagulating in the air. "and food. from iwa's mom, of course."

the upturn of her lips is beyond her control. "i really need that," she breathes out. hajime shakes his head at the misery before him.

"what'd you do?"

"i didn't do anything. it's just more grievances from the industry. they want this, they want that; anything that'll grant them more money will do."

the two make themselves comfortable beside her, with the more lively of the duo on her right and her muse on her left. tooru pops open the bottle of soju unceremoniously while hajime pries open the tupperware lid on the table. the scene is welcoming and warm, a stark contrast to the cold monotony of her manager and the white-hot resentment simmering in her lungs. it feels right.

her eyes fall to the desktop at the side of the room and the haphazard arrangement of materials on her table (a leather notebook filled with vague compositions of soon-to-be-lyrics, the same pen she's been using since her second year of high school, an expensive microphone provided to her by her label that she needs to clean more often), and for the first time in a long while, she finds herself questioning the importance of her career. gone are the days of drafting cheesy songs in her bedroom and singing about the infatuation that seems to have altered her perception of the word permanently; she's become a cog to the machine and she only realizes it now. something in her aches.

hajime's stare follows hers, his cheeks puffed up with warm sinigang and rice. he questions the furrow in her brow and the displeasure in her gaze and finds his mind running back to the other night. the syrupy words and heartfelt verbiage clearly addressed to someone he may or may not know plague his mind, and he wonders if he'd find something similar in the notes sprawled across her desk.

tooru is silent. as opposed to his friends, whose eyes are cast to the same point, he's stuck watching them. the proximity of their legs, the coordination in their movement, the warmth that exudes from their combined presence; it all slowly chips away at whatever buried hope he'd carried with him from argentina to his home country.

it's a half return to normalcy. they're all bound together by long-time loyalty and care, but with the transfiguration of their hearts, it's different. there's a shift in the air attributed to maturation and growth. they don't want to acknowledge it.

♪ sorry if this is vague </3 i don't want to explain too in depth in fear of exposing too much plot but essentially this a moment where they realize that they can't really go back to normal (as in, the way they used to be as friends) with all of their changing lives and changing feelings

♪ i say this every time but i hope this chapter makes sense LOL its a lot less silly and more just a feeling of dread

♪ slightly based on half return by adrienne lenker (such a beautiful song)

♪ tooru definitely did gossip with hajime's mom and grandma while they were cooking. he loves listening to them rant about their annoying neighbors or lovesick coworkers

♪ i hc that hajime speaks in taglish (tagalog + english) on accident sometimes with yn and tooru but they've listened to his mom and lola talk enough that they understand

♪ i dont have much to say i just want to get to the next chapter already

taglist: @froyaoya @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes

[jacksprostate]

For a moment, my world is a single concussive blast, shattering my skull and sending my soul straight to hell. Direct flight. Short enough, there's no single serving refreshments to match the minty white hot incineration of my mouth.

When I open my eyes, cavern the size of Kansas blown through my last good cheek, the afterimage light of the bullet inflicted on the world — it's with the distinct sense that I fucked up.

I had told Marla, I wasn't killing myself. I was killing Tyler. But doesn't anyone with a gun in their mouth want to die?

I try speaking, and it works about as well as one would expect. I wave them away. Even Marla. Strangely enough, they listen. Or maybe they go to find a paramedic. No one ever told them to staunch the massive source of blood flow first. That's alright.

This is time to think. Solo reflection before group therapy.

I am alone, and Tyler is nowhere in sight.

Maybe it really was a murder suicide. Both victims, Tyler Durden. Cause of death, his stupid, stupid creator stopped wanting him. I realize this puts me in the stance of God, and I shudder. Tyler is not one of millions axeing themselves because daddy dearest and holy didn't love them enough.

And yet, I'm standing in his paraffin iconography. His pointless tomb.

Tyler says, "That's not quite nice, you know."

Tyler.

Cortisol receptors, burnt, back on fire.

Houston, we have a problem.

Tyler.

Tyler says, "Did you really think that would work? Tied it up in your head with a little bow, metaphorical gravestone marked with my name?"

Tyler says, "Didn't think you had it in you, psycho boy."

I stumble. I fall onto the ground and my head should ricochet and get scrambled like hens who've just met the fox. I fall on the ground, and my head falls into Tyler's lap. He looms over me, eyes crinkled like when he kissed me and introduced me to lye.

Tyler.

He cards his fingers through my hair. Supports my head with his palm. Turns it this way and that, tsking, humming.

Tyler says, "You did quite the number on yourself, psycho boy."

It feels like he could crack my skull open, pour out the contents like it's egg drop soup. There is sweetness to how he handles me.

"I told you," he says. "We won't really die."

Did Tyler move the tip of the gun? Did Tyler save my life?

"No. You fucked up killing yourself all on your own," Tyler says.

I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wanted to kill Tyler.

"Same thing," Tyler says, and my eyes water.

He lets his fingers slip close to the mangled chops of my cheeks. It is something that should probably hurt, but when he sticks his fingers in my face, I feel nothing. I can't tell if it's because it's not real and I don't have the energy for Tyler to use my hands, or if it's because my pain has become the ultimate white ball of healing light.

Two of his fingers slip into the gash of my old scar. It's been open since I learned about Patrick Madden. He fingers my mouth, traces the bitten chunk of my tongue. Tyler chides me. How could I ever expect fight club to release me from myself, now? It loves us too much.

"Not just Tyler Durden," he says.

Tyler says, "You might be my shadow, but they love you, too. They see you."

Be still my beating heart.

Why paraffin, Tyler?

Why not blow up the building. Doesn't this mean anything?

I thought it was my secret will to live. Tyler had come to me, perfectly handsome and an angel in his everything-blond way. My will to live tried to commit suicide, sure, but maybe he didn't. Did Tyler add the paraffin, just like how he tipped the gun?

"I told you," Tyler says. "I didn't tip the gun."

I didn't though. I wanted to die.

Why paraffin?

Tyler says, "Look at what you are now. What you've come to accept. In the best operas, the best stories, you don't really die. You learn a lesson. You up the stakes."

He pulls at my newest wound, stretching the skin tight. It gushes blood direct into my throat. Tyler opens me like a chip bag, and now I have no corners to my mouth but the ones all the way back at my ears. I've got four nice chops, ready to be pared.

Dragon of avarice.

Rough cut of beef. Pork. Good enough for stew, maybe.

I can hear the police helicopters, closer, closer. The impending doom of my discovered resurrection.

Tyler says, "You've been here since the start. I wouldn't be here in the first place if you didn't want me."

Trying to kill myself would never kill Tyler. I love him too much. It's the experience of being me I want to let go of. I stopped wanting to wake up.

That means I'm the hallucination.

Tyler says, "Think of it as metamorphosis."

Tyler is a sculptor. Carver. He is slicing the unneeded and unwanted parts of me away. This is just the largest cut of his knife. I think of little soap bears made by Boy Scouts. I am his self portrait.

Tyler says, "This is only the first step."

The helicopters land. There's stitches on every single officer.

[holy-puckslibrary]

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

chief crosby's got a date... and its not with florist!reader

... was in a bit of a silly goofy mood, forgive me (and be sure to read the endnotes!)

gif from @littlemessyjessi

This is the last thing Sidney Crosby imagined he'd come home to: another man settled in his chair.

His cat is curled in the intruder's lap, and said intruder's hand is curled over your knee. And Sidney's soup—homemade and hand-delivered—split in bowls between you.

"Thought you didn't need a babysitter?"

Sidney watches the gleeful expression wilt on your pretty face—color drained like his bank account succeeding the egregious bid he matched to make bail—with equal measures of self-satisfaction and self-contempt.

"I-I didn't, I just—"

"Settle down, Chief," the ranger laughs. "I knew our little lady here was feeling under the weather, so I thought I'd stop by after my patrol shift and keep her company while you were indisposed."

Sidney glares into the bright cerulean eyes of one Anthony Beauvillier, a park ranger in the Atlantic Coast Uplands region.

If memory serves, he was recently transferred from Waverley to Blue Mountain but resides in Peggy's Cove. This is a 50-minute detour.

In the opposite direction.

The Fire Chief's jaw is painfully tight, his blood scalding. If it were't for his, albeit dwindling, sense of self preservation, Sidney would've marched up those two steps—recently refurbished at his hand, might he add—to forcefully remove the park narc's grubby paw from your body.

Mercifully—for all involved parties, you do so shortly and of your own volition before joining Sid in your driveway.

Guilt smeared over your sickly features, your mouth parts, an explanation hot on your tongue, but all that comes is a grizzly cough that stings Sid's chest just hearing it. Despite his vexation, he's patient with you; he owes it to you both to wait it out. He hopes this is just one big misunderstanding somehow.

But, before you're able, the absolute last person Sidney wants to hear from pipes up.

"Resting, ma biche. You're meant to be resting," Tito attempts to coax you back onto the porch—back to his side—with an outstretched, up-turned hand.

(my doe / my darling — reminder: see end for important notes!)

Not as quick with his French as he'd like to be, he growls at the perceived insult. However, rather than running his fist through the opposition's teeth in your honor, Sidney defiles it.

The park ranger, and everyone else who happens to be out and about tonight, are treated to an unexpected eyeful of their Fire Chief's innermost feelings rushing to the surface. They pour into your mouth with reckless abandon, unconcerned with his public image or the utter lack of privacy; this kiss could be broadcast on the Nightly News for all he cares.

All that matters to Sidney Crosby is making his intentions known, and crystal fucking clear. Staking his claim is just a bonus.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done."

At your dazed expression and Sid's bewilderment, Tito stands from the rocking chair with a genuine smile fixed on his face. As he deposits evergreen Stetson atop his wind-swept hair, he pauses.

"Y'all have a nice night," he winks with a tip of the brim, bidding you farewell before slipping into his government-issued Ram.

As gravel crunches under the vehicle's wheels, gears click into place behind Sidney's burnt umber eyes, now gleaming with clarity.

"Nate and Emmy." — Statement, not a question.

"Please, don't be angry. They just wanted to help because... because I didn't believe that... y'know." You gesture to the sliver of space that still separates you, a bashful little smile pushing up your feverish cheeks.

He couldn't find it in himself to be ticked off about your best friends' not-so-harebrained scheme—which, honestly, deserved more credit than he would ever be willing to give it—if he wanted to. Not while standing so close he can smell the PEI tulips you've been elbow-deep in all month, and definitely not having tasted the whisper of herbal tea lingering on your tongue.

Smirking, he closes the gap with a gentle tug.

"Oh, I know." Voice dropping to a thick hush, his lips hovering a lick above your skin, "D'you believe it now?"

The pinkish skin crinkles around his warm eyes as you pretend to think.

"I could do with a little more... convincing," you ultimately quip. "But, only if you're up for the t—"

The remainder of your cajoling is overtaken by a fit of giggles as he corrals you up and across the porch. The front door slams shut with a satisfying air of finality. Though, not before little Ember slips in with you.

Chief Crosby was thorough by nature, and he'd be damned if he didn't dedicate the evening to dispelling any and all doubts threatening to take root. Feigned, or not.

—

gotcha! teehee 😋 sid really said sick germs?? no match for my LOVE!!! ALSO! tito anon, this ones for you bbyyyyy 💓💓💓💓

***** 'ma biche' was chosen because its typically humorous and rarely intended seriously, + can be considered majorly outdated (even by 60s sitcom standards)—and its not always romantic! ... it also sounds a lot like an english insult, hence sid's reaction lol (at least, according to my french-canadian grandmother who remains very confused by my random call for a french lesson on infrequently used terms of endearment lol) *****

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

[zvdvdlvr]

Can u do more uhhh HCS with like dating Johnny n stuff? I'M SORRY I JUST LOVE THEMSELVES SO MUCH! Anyway tyyyy

- 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐇𝐂𝐬

-> navi. | -> outsiders masterlist

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 { 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 }, 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍, 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖥𝖫𝖴𝖥𝖥

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼!𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: 𝗎𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝖺 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 ��𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝖨𝖳𝖲 𝖮𝖪𝖠𝖸 𝖨𝖬 𝖨𝖭 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖬 𝖳𝖮𝖮 <3

{ 💍 }

- humble af

- absolutely 100% let people walk on over him when he was by himself

- but when you came into the picture, everything was flipped upside down

- dally seemed tame compared to you when you were upset

- im talkin: "you even breathe 'round my boyfriend again, i swear to everything on this damned planet, you'll be scared to take a step outide your house again, savvy?"

- JOHNNY LOVESSSSS BEING HELD BY YOU (later on in the relationship)

- the first couple weeks you guys started dating where kinda awkward, speaking as johnny had to really make himself vulnerable in a romantic relationship

- but all the waiting was worth it <3

- big on linking pinkies if i havent already said that

- johnny's hands get sweaty for one, and two it's something unique and different and johnny loves that sm

- needy when tired

- A DAMN KOALA WHEN Y'ALL CUDDLING I SWEAR

- it's so cute, fam. like, he'll have his head buried into ur chest, smothering himself but refusing to leave bc he needs to be that close to you

- the kind to seek you out in crowds or whatever

- sloppy kisser

- i

- he's super shy, so please let him know it's okay that he's not that good of a kisser, etc.

- LOVES when you compliment/praise him

- dally was wary of you at first obvi

- he didn't like how close you were getting with johnny, so he kept an eye on you

- but he realized johnny was smiling a little more, branching out, speaking up the smallest bit, cracking jokes

- dally absolutely sat you down to talk about your intentions with his son (/j?)

- BLUSHES AT EVERYTHING CHILE

- it's so sweet tho, like,

- hug from behind? red. a kiss to the sensitive skin under his ear? squirming. praising him? woozy. calling him 'pretty boy', 'sweetheart', 'angel', 'my love'???? passed out.

- you could pour hot soup in his lap and he'd apologize for wasting your time

- simp, tbh

- reassure him. constantly. please.

- if you smoke, SHOTGUN WITH HIM PLEASE

- he thinks its so hot

- yearns to do it with you, but wont say anything in case you get icked by it

- if you don't smoke, johnny's very careful to keep his cigarettes and cigarette smoke away from you

- either a physical touch, acts of service, or affirmation kinda guy, mainly depending on how you show your love

- goodbye kisses are a must

- wouldn't really talk about his parents unless you guys where like way into ur relationship

- PLEADE KUSS THE SCAR ON HIS FAXE

- mb

- please kiss the scar on his face

- it makes him feel vulnerable n shiz, but when u like brush a thumb over it with a small smile, johnny always wonders whats goin through ur head

- one time when you did that really late at night, johnny finally asked why you looked at that little scar with so much emotion

- you shrugged, only offering "it makes you look tuff" but he knew there was more behind ur words <3

- 102829282029202974389347902999/10, where can i get one

johnny taglist: @paxdawg

[biancasreign]

STAYING HOME (SHORT) | JEY USO

summary: jey’s the biggest baby when he’s sick

warnings: none

“Yeah girl, I’m gonna have to pass on lunch.”

“No worries sissy. I understand you wanna take care of your man! Just text me later so I can tell you the tea.” Her close friend, Nicole told her.

“I got you sis.”

After getting off the phone with Nicole she went to the fridge and instantly pull out the items to make a soup. She didn’t know what it was but Jey came down with something that made him extremely sick.

All last night he was throwing up, sweating, and sneezing like crazy. It drove her crazy not knowing what was wrong with him. All night she found herself dozing in and out of sleep, checking in him to make sure he was okay and still breathing.

When she work up this morning she spoke with a nurse to figure out what could’ve possibly been wrong with him. After listing his symptoms is was clear he had some kind of seasonal virus that was going around.

He rarely got sick but when he did he was the biggest baby in the world. He would stay in bed all day and hold Whitney right up under him.

Gathering the items for the soup she instantly started cooking so it would be done sooner than later. She made sure to add the extra spiciness the way they liked it and then started on the dumplings.

“Mmh, this is so good.” She danced to herself as she tasted the soup and then scooped some in the bowl for Jey. She then poured him a cup of lemon honey ginger tea and made her way upstairs.

When she got to their bedroom she placed the bowl and the cup down on the dresser and walked over to the bed where Jey was sprawled out. The room was freezing cold but his body was still hot due to his fever.

“Sweet face, wake up.” She called out to him a sage placed the food on the night stand and opened the blinds to let some light in.

“Baby close that.” He sucked his teeth and pulled the cover over his head to block the sunlight.

“Jey, come on.” She sat down on the bed, rubbing small circles into his back.

“Hmm?” He moved his head from under the comforter while adjusting his body to face her.

“Eat for me and you can go back to sleep. I made you some soup and tea.” She ran her hands through his small curls as he laid his head in her lap.

“I thought you were going out for lunch?” He asked.

“No, I gotta take care of my baby.”

“You don’t gotta do that. Go out with your girls.” He told her but she ignored him and picked up the humidifier so she could change the water in it.

As she did he grabbed the bowl off the dresser and instantly began eating it. If there was one thing Whitney could do it was cook her ass off. He loved all of her cooking especially when he was sick.

“How is it?”

“You know it’s good baby.” He licked his lips.

“Good, how do you feel? You look way better than yesterday.” She asked as she sat down on the bed next to him.

“Damn, I looked fucked up yesterday?” He sucked his teeth and turned to face her.

“Just a little bit.” She giggled.

“You’re not right for that. I couldn’t fucking breathe. He narrowed his eyes are her.

“Well you didn’t want to drink the tea. I bet you’ll drink it all now. It cleared your sinuses right out after I forced it down your throat.”

“That’s how you’re gonna treat me when we’re old, huh? Abusing me and shit?” He took the tea from her as she busted out laughing at how dramatic he was being.

“Hmm, maybe. You can be difficult sometimes we might have to send you to a nursing home.” She laughed once she saw the expression on his face.

“Yeah fucking right. You’ll be real upset when I find a young thang to take care of me.”

“And I’ll beat both of y’all asses. Old or not.” She pursed her lips at him. No longer thinking it was funny.

“Babe, you’re a trip.” He shook his head at her.

——————————————————————————

tag list: @bebesobrielo @trentybenty @amandairene88 @kiki1704 @paigereeder @uceyliyahh

[valiantstarlights]

[Dreamling Week Day 6: Sick] In Sickness

It's a fluffy sick fic featuring eldritch goo Dream of the Endless idk what else to tell you

CW: if you're fine with Dream being an eldritch being, then absolutely nothing. 😊 Enjoy! 🖤

Hob stares at the large black puddle of goo that flooded most of the living room. He just got back from work and found Matthew perched on a branch near his flat, looking as frantic as a raven could get.

Said raven is now perched on Hob's shoulder, eyeing the mess on the floor gravely.

Hob had been warned that Dream is 'in a state,' but he didn't exactly expect that 'state' to be liquid.

Because it is Dream on the floor, Hob can see that very clearly. Though the goo simply looks like dark glittery slime poured over the floor to the uninitiated, Hob recognizes a couple of nebulas on its surface. There, by the telly, is the Horsehead Nebula, there by the bookshelf that contained none of Shaxberd's works is the Trifid Nebula, and just by Hob's feet is the Lagoon Nebula.

"Darling?" Hob calls out, unsure if he's going to get an answer. This is his first time encountering Dream like this. "Are you alright?"

No answer.

He looks at Matthew a bit helplessly. "Do I just...scoop him up with my hands?"

Matthew fidgets. "Definitely don't vacuum him."

"Why the hell would I--"

"Well, why are you asking me? I don't know this shit! I was literally a human a year ago!"

Hob pinches his nose. They were like blind drunks stumbling down the street together. "Is he even sentient like this?"

The dark puddle vibrates, and Hob feels Matthew's talons dig into his shoulders from the jumpscare. He himself almost drops his suitcase. "I can hear both of you," the puddle grumbles, "and you are making too much noise for my liking."

"Oh, sorry, love," Hob says, his boyfriend instincts suddenly awakened at Dream's sulky morning voice. "Did we wake you?"

"I want some of your chicken pot pie."

"Chicken pot pie." Hob repeats. His brain is still processing the fact that his boyfriend is a literal puddle of goo on the floor. "Yeah. Okay. Let me just get some ingredients from the shops real quick. Can you get to the bedroom while I'm gone? I don't want to step on you when I return."

--

He leaves Matthew...not in charge, but overseeing goo Dream's long and arduous trek to the bedroom.

He hears the raven mutter something about this being like hell all over again.

Hob ignores that because he has a different set of problems to tackle.

--

Hob's panic sets in as soon as he gets out of the car carrying all the ingredients for chicken pot pie, as well as some other food and drinks good for sick humans.

Once the pie is done cooking and cooling down a bit, how will he feed Dream? Where is his mouth? Does Hob just...pour it on the goo and hope for the best?

What if that were the equivalent of dumping hot soup on his boyfriend's lap?

--

"Any improvement?" he asks Matthew, who has kept an eye on Dream while perched safely on the back of the couch.

Hob checked, and Dream's form is thankfully all contained in the bedroom, still looking like a lake of stars.

"Nope. But he says he wants you to make extra crusts because he likes that. I would also like some extra bits to snack on, if that's alright."

"Sure." Hob goes to do just that. Chicken pot pie for the boyfriend and a lot of extra crusts for the boyfriend and his raven.

No problem. This is all totally normal and fine.

--

"Dream? Darling? The pot pie is done."

The puddle looks a little smaller in size, and Hob can see a couple of hill-like formations near the middle of the mass. He hopes it's a sign that Dream is slowly getting better.

At his words, one of the islands move closer to him, like a shark. Its progress sends ripples throughout the lake.

"Finally," the island nearer to him says. Its peak splits open to reveal the inside of Dream's human mouth. "Feed me."

At this point, Hob isn't even questioning anything anymore. All he knows is how to be a good boyfriend, so he's gonna do just that.

He sits down at the very edge of the lake near the hill with the mouth, and scoops up a portion of the pie, making sure to blow on it before feeding it to Dream.

The hill hums in appreciation.

"Good?"

"Delicious," Dream's mouth says, before opening once more, like a baby bird waiting to be fed. "More. I want a larger portion of the crust this time."

Hob couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face and obediently gets more of the crust for the next bite.

--

"What kind of juice do you like?" Hob asks, a few hours later. The goo now looks less like a puddle and more like gelatine that didn't set properly. It was on the couch, bundled up in one of Hob's soft knitted blankets, watching an earlier season of Game of Thrones with Matthew.

"What kinds do you have?"

"Uh, orange, apple, and pineapple. Oh, and I still got some banana milk from the Korean grocery store, if you prefer that. Or almond milk."

"All of them."

Hob and Matthew share an alarmed look behind gelatine Dream's back. "What, an equal amount of all those drinks together in a single glass?"

"Yes."

Hob looks heavenwards and prays for a little more sanity before complying.

And just for fun, he goes down to the Inn and gets a blue cocktail umbrella and a heart-shaped drinking straw to put in gelatine Dream's very questionable drink.

Gelatine Dream hums in delight and tells Hob he loves him.

Hob beams and kisses the top of the gelatinous mass, while Matthew chokes, very possibly because the scene on TV is Hodor...doing his thing, and that always gets to Hob.

(Matthew chokes because he is disgusted, he is revolted--)

--

Something thick and long, like an anaconda, slithers into bed with Hob, and it is only through his 600 plus years of living in this world does he calm his frantically beating heart and open his arms so big ass snake Dream can curl up next to him.

"I hate being sick," the snake hisses, its huge dark head tucking itself under Hob's chin. "I can't hug you like this."

'Please don't wrap around me and squeeze me to death,' Hob does not say. "I think you're adorable," he murmurs instead against Dream's coils, and kisses the nearest scaled skin in front of his face.

--

Dream is mostly back in his human form come morning, but he still dripped viscous dark liquid wherever he goes. It reminds Hob of Howl Pendragon from the Howl's Moving Castle Ghibli movie.

"How are you this morning, darling?"

"Wretched," Dream says as he drips onto his fry up. Hob mentioned preparing porridge for him as they got up earlier, only to be informed by Dream that he fucking hates porridge and would hurl it into the sun if he could. And so Hob cooked some fry up instead. "Must you go to work?"

Hob, already running late and in the process of putting on his shoes, stops and looks back at the pathetic picture Dream makes. He is sadly looking down at his perfectly cooked eggs, dripping dark sludge on the sun-yellow yolks.

"I'll call in sick," Hob decides, and takes his phone out to do just that. The department head is going to verbally flay him alive for only giving notice at the last minute, but nothing is more important to him than Dream. Hell, they could fire him over the phone and he'd be fine with it.

Dream hugs him around the middle as Hob puts his briefcase down, ruining his white dress shirt. Hob hugs him back and kisses the top of his head.

It's fine. He'll just buy another shirt, or get another job. But Dream is irreplaceable.

--

"Have I told you that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me?" Dream asks him a couple of days later, when they're both lying in bed after two rounds of fantastic sex, celebrating Dream's full recovery.

Hob kisses him on the nose and cuddles him closer. "Maybe once or twice in the last 24 hours," he says. "But it never hurts to tell me again."

--

Dream shyly hands him an unbreakable ceramic mug made from the sands of the Dreaming. It says, "The best boyfriend across all of time and space," in Dream's handwriting.

It takes Hob a solid month to stop grinning like a fool.

[znerac]

hello!! i love your fics. i was hoping for maybe a pedro x reader fic, established relationship where you are sick and he takes care of you? or visa-versa. (alt maybe you are sick on a weekend he was coming home to surprise you while he’s away filming)?

This is such a cute idea idk how i never thought of this! 😧 also so sorry i would of gotten this out sooner but i went out on vacation with like barely any service ❤️❤️

I'll also keep in mind to maybe write a ver where Pedro's sick. And sorry its a bit short :P

Anyways i Loved writing this, here ya go 🥰

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader. Warnings/tags: no specific gendered reader, No y/n, Petnames, fluff, Just cute stuff :) Summary: Pedro comes home to surprise his partner with a visit, But the Reader is sick and he takes his time caring for them <3

Feeling under the weather always sucked, How could it be enjoyable? Laying in bed, feeling down and crappy, And unfortunately you had come down with something. You were fevered, stuck in bed, sleeping all day and whimpering in pain from whatever you caught. It sucked enough being alone, since you had to force yourself out of bed to eat. When all you wanted to do was rest like your exhausted body asked you.

You body shivered, leaning up against the counter as you waited for the water in the kettle to boil. Wrapped up in a blanket while you attempted to feel warmer. Sighing when the kettle whisteled, and you poured yourself a cup of tea to your taste. Bringing the hot beverage to your lips and humming as it soothed your throat.

Day two of feeling like shit, what a start to the weekend. You stood in the kitchen drinking your tea, revelling in the warmth it gave you. Furrowing your brows as you heard a door open, and even heard your name. It almost sounded like-

Pedro. He walked into the kitchen with a big smile, that only faltered as he looked at you. "Oh mi amor, You don't look so good" he said, coming over to you and wrapping you in his arms. Pedro gave you a few kisses on the forehead, you groaning as you leant into it. "I thought you were filming" you hummed.

"Well, i was missing you, thought I'd surprise Mi hermosa compañera. I flew home for the weekend just for you" he says, petting your hair. "So are you not feeling well? You feel clammy" pedro asked, looking into your eyes with those brown orbs. You shook your head with a frown, which he met. "Ah, don't worry baby. I'll make you feel all better" he said with a smile, kissing your forehead again. "Go sit on the couch, pick a show you like mi amor. I'll be right out there with you"

You nodded, squeezing his hand briefly before leaving with your blanket and tea, making yourself comfortable on the couch. A show you like acompanying you. Pedro took a while, but when he came back with soup and water, and a couple of meds your heart melted.

"Awh.. You didn't have to-" you hum, taking the soup and setting it comfortably in your lap. Pedro laughs, "Well, what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn't take care of my partner?" he replied, handing you the meds along with the water. He sat down beside you, pulling you close.

"Thank you" you mumble, swallowing down the pills. He just nods with a smile, planting a kiss on your cheek. You shivered, a rush of cold flowing down your spine. In a quick whim to get rid of the cold, you take a couple spoon-fulls of your soup which almost immediately cures it.

On days like this you were more than thankful to have pedro. He was always willing to take care of you. And when he felt like this? You gave back just the same.

Eventually when you were done eating, pedro just pulled you into his lap and rested his head on your shoulder, littering your neck with kisses and small whisperes of his affection. Just by being with him, you felt better.

When Pedro noticed you passed out cold, he chuckled, Saying to your unconscious self affectionate words and how much he loved you. A few things that were cheesy, and others that were just him admiring you. But then he put you in his arms, got up and carried you to bed.

When he set you in, he lifted up the covers and made sure you were comfortable and warm. Crawling in and hugging you into his arms. He had no plan on going back to filming until you were better.

A/N: Usually i try not to write micro's but i was a little stumped. Sometimes cute little drabbles are good though when you need a bit of a readers-block breaker i guess.

[aquanthis]

can I hear about Adelia. I think that’s the name your night elf mage. please

YES ABSOLUTELY!!! ADELIA MY BELOVED!!! oh there's a lot wrong with her. a lot. there are many layers to this little mage good lird. look at her

^ seb's art ofc

i hope you like weird girls because that's all she's got!

Archmage Adelia Starweaver, Eternal Magus

ok the general info like usual: she's an arcane mage, an archmage, and she wields aluneth. she's a bisexual nonbinary woman and a complete disaster. she's a whirlwind of a woman and i'm absolutely obsessed w/ her.

personality-wise, adelia is a pile of masks so high that she doesn't really know who she is underneath them all anymore. she tries desperately to fit in and to pretend like nothing hurts or phases her, when in actuality every mean word clings to her like cobwebs. she puts on an act of being bubbly and loud and brash, trying to get people to like her, but the other people around her actually just can't stand her and think she's annoying. she's very much the "you could pour hot soup in my lap on purpose and i would apologize to you" type except it would be her laughing it off with a big smile and going to clean it up herself and never speaking of it again. this is how she copes. she's so normal lol <3

her childhood was fucked because her mother died shortly after adelia's younger sibling was born, and her dad basically put everything into trying to control adelia and "make her mom proud" or whatever. he tried to force her into druidism, and adelia was, uh. Not Happy! her autistic ass did not do well in druid school. the other students hated her guts and also made fun of her for the situation with her dad and that's when she picked up her Annoying Mask.

anyway, she was obsessed with stories about illidan. like, OBSESSED. special interest level obsessed. she felt validated and vindicated by illidan's rejection of druidism to become a mage, and she began studying magic in secret, all while disappointing her father and her teacher. despite the fact that illidan's life should've, by all means, been a cautionary tale, she did NOT take it as such, and look up to/aspired to be like him. she took the brunt of her father's anger/pressure/abuse, inadvertently protecting her younger sibling for the most part.

so! that was her life up until the draenei landed on azeroth. when the draenei came to darnassus, adelia met paleri (who avid grims oc fans will recognize as aemara's wife!) and they became fast friends. aemara had just disappeared to join the alliance military, and paleri was left aimless and lost, feeling like she couldn't protect her people as a simple engineer and wanted to become a paladin. adelia became determined to help her (had a bit of a crush on her too) and very quickly convinced paleri to go exploring with her. they left darnassus together, paleri determined to become a paladin and adelia determined to become a mage.

the funny thing about adelia, see, is that she's incredibly powerful. as in, her magic is like raw magic energy itself, unwieldy and volatile and unpredictable and dangerous. she has largely unparalleled skill at actually conjuring up the magic, to the point of eventually allowing her to become an archmage, but she's so fucking bad at controlling it. she's like a bomb about to go off at any given moment. so, when she and paleri go wandering together, there are a lot of. Incidents. lol

their journey takes them from burning crusade up to legion, all the while they made names for themselves as wandering mercenaries or minor heroes. and then, in legion, they join up with their respective class halls, pretty much go their separate ways, and begin climbing the ranks (surprisingly quickly).

adelia gets some bad flashbacks to childhood in the mage class hall. everyone fucking hates her. she doesn't know how to not be annoying because that's the mask she's used for so long so she just keeps up with it. khadgar is the only one who really tolerates her but even then he brushes her off (at first. they're kind of friends now). HOWEVER. when they're seeking champions to hunt down the artifacts, she gets chosen to hunt down aluneth. is this a little bit of a plot to get her killed? yes! but also she is the mage champion with the strongest ability with arcane magic, to a point that they can't just ignore her. so off she goes to hunt down the most volatile staff ever to exist lol

the aluneth questline goes as planned and everything and she picks up the staff. but it immediately starts berating her, as aluneth does. constantly. and at first she laughs it off like she always does, but after a while of the constant snide comments and contempt, she starts crying while trying to laugh it off, and aluneth suddenly gets slapped in the face. because, huh? what? this cringy loser girl who picked up the damn staff actually has feelings?

so it goes a little easier on her. just a little. and over time, aluneth starts to grow a bit of possessive attachment to her. a sort of "you're the only one who is strong enough to wield me so that means you're mine and i have to protect you" relationship. and at one point, adelia gets in a fight with her sort of nemesis (raquesis, one of august's ocs, a frost mage!) and is just kind of letting raquesis beat the shit out of her because adelia doesn't really have much fight in her when someone's being mean to her, and as she's about to pass out, aluneth fucking possesses her. and defeats raquesis on the spot. to save adelia.

it's like. all of the sudden, aluneth—this being made of pure, volatile arcane energy, that up until now was seemingly incapable of feelings other than contempt and pride—protects her. not for itself, but for her. no one has ever protected her before. she wakes up on the beach beaten half to death but alive and aluneth makes some smug comment like "you know, you can't rely on me to save you from everything" and adelia just starts wailing and hugging the staff as if it'll do anything.

she loves her fucked up magic staff :')

anyway uh she's still obsessive about illidan in legion so it's really funny that she's there when he's revived in the nighthold. she has some moments in the stuff i wrote about aquanthis in nighthold and it's all really fun. she's so silly. but yeah she's all starstruck by him

OH ALSO she ends up dating illidan's adopted daughter without knowing that and finds out later and it's REALLY FUNNY. adelia fidgeting like "can i meet him can i meet him can i meet him" trying to be so normal about meeting her hero. she meets him and he's like 😬 LMAO he does not like her. unfortunately

after legion she's just kinda, Around. when she's needed. she meets her little sibling again at some point and it's wild but that's something seb and i haven't developed too much so i don't wanna talk about it :P

to give you an idea of how silly she is, here's an excerpt from the gul'dan fight lol

my silly <3

anyway ermmmm it's 5 am and that's as much as my brain can spit out rn but just know she's a disaster bisexual and i want to pick her up by the waist and spin her around. my bestie

[fangirlshrewt97]

My Best Friend and My Brother

Ok this was partially inspired by a Tumblr post, but mostly came together in my head intended to be one thing, but the final piece turned out different than what I anticipated. I am also not super confident in how ...sensical ? this fic might be, so let me know your thoughts.

An attempt at Jai (Jai Lava Kusa) x Harsha (Magadeera)

///

"I can't believe you never told me you had such a hot brother." Harsha murmured to Lava from where they were eating their evening snack. Lava had invited his old friend to Annayya's mansion once Kusa and he had decided to stay here on a more permanent basis.

"Well I didn't even realize he was alive-" Lava froze with his samosa midway to his mouth. "Did you just say hot?"

Harsha tilted his head at him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah? Look at him. He's freaking sexy."

Lava gaped at Harsha, opening and closing his mouth several times, but no words would come out.

"What?" Harsha asked defensively.

Lava sputtered, "He's, I'm...He's my twin brother!"

Harsha shrugged. "Only in appearance. I love you Lava but your ... um…vibe? It's the type to scream that if someone poured soup on your lap, you'd apologize to them. Him on the other hand..." Harsha turned to look in Annayya's direction with sultry eyes. “I’d love to get to know him more. And I think he feels the same.”

Lava punched his shoulder softly.

"Hey!" Harsha said as he rubbed the spot.

"Stop that. I just. You can't. You-" Lava's brain was still trying to process the situation. And failing miserably.

Harsha pouted at him. "Does he already have someone?"

Lava shook his head.

"Does he only like girls?"

"I-I'm not sure." Lava admitted hesitatingly.

Harsha brightened, a determined look in his eyes. Lava grabbed his forearm, gripping it tight. "Harsha, please. I just -"

Harsha's eyes flashed. "What is it, Lava? Is it that I'm also a guy? I know we don't really talk about it but like. I am not going to force myself on your brother you know."

"No!" Lava shouted quietly, lowering his voice to avoid drawing the attention of his brother's...henchmen. "No! It's not that, Harsha it doesn't bother me, I promise! You’re my best friend, you know I don’t care about that stuff."

"Then what man?" Harsha asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Lava bit his lip, thankful that Jai hadn't looked their way yet. 

"He's ... He's dangerous. He has a temper.I don’t want you to get tangled in his mess, or get hurt."

Harsha rolled his eyes. "I'm a big boy Lava, I can take care of myself."

And before Lava could reply, he was up and walking towards Jai, a distinct sway to his hips. Lava watched him go with wide eyes, hand still outstretched towards him. Lava didn’t miss the way Jai’s gaze slid to Harsha immediately, or how he stopped talking to watch his friend approach. Oh devuda, please let there be no bloodshed.

"Yo! Why didn't you tell me there were samosas!" Kusa's voice came from behind him. Lava managed to tear his gaze away from his friend to see his brother stuffing the second samosa on his plate down his throat.

Lava's lips pinched in disapproval, only to be met with a playful wink.

Lava turned back to see Harsha had reached Jai. He whimpered.

"What's your friend doing?" Kusa asked as he stood up to turn the chair around before sitting again, this time folding his hands over the back of the chair and resting his chin there.

"He... he's asking Annayya out." Lava said faintly.

Kusa guffawed loudly, only for it to morph into shock when Lava turned to him despairingly. "You're serious? Is your friend suicidal?"

Lava hit his brother's thigh. "Kusa! I'm worried."

"You should be. Annayya is going to tear him to pieces, look!"

Lava shipped his head around so fast he heard a snap. Jai had stood up and was chest to chest with Harsha, towering over him. Harsha did not look worried at all.

Lava clenched his fist tightly, until Kusa yelped at him to remove his hand.

"You know your friend could have asked me on a date if he just wanted adventure." Kusa said through a mouth full of food.

"Even I would pick Annayya over you." Lava answered absentmindedly. "Ow!"

Kusa was glaring at him, and Lava glared right back. "Why did you pinch me?"

"Oh, because you're such a catch are you?" Kusa retorted.

Lava's eyes twitched as he forced himself to take a calming breath. No one ever riled him like Kusa. It was infuriating, because it was exactly what the other man wanted and Lava hated how easily he fell into his brother's trap.

"Will you just help me?" He asked urgently.

"Help with what? Rescue? Or search and recovery?" Kusa bit back.

"Who are you recovering?" Harsha's voice interrupted.

Both men jumped and looked at the young man with astonishment.

"He lives." Kusa said to no one in particular.

Harsha raised an eyebrow at him before turning to Lava and smiling wolfishly. "I told you I'd be fine."

"What-what happened?" Lava asked.

"He said yes."

"WHAT?" Both brother exclaimed simultaneously before swiveling to look at their eldest. Who was looking back at them. Or, rather, at Harsha's back.

Even from the distance they could make out their brother was ... enthralled by him.

Their eyes were the size of dining plates when they turned back to Harsha. He threw them another cheeky, grabbing the last samosa from the plate before walking away. He was definitely putting an exaggerated sway to his hips.

That is, until he reached the doorway, where he paused to throw a wink at Jai over his shoulder.

Kusa choked slightly, and Lava flicked his ear hard. "Stop it!"

"That hurt!" Kusa swore as he rubbed at his ear. “Also, he’s your friend so you can’t ogle at him. I however-”

Lava flicked him again, returning his glare in equal strength. 

"It was supposed to hurt." Lava hissed.

Suddenly a shadow fell over their table. Both brothers gulped before looking up their brother in sync.

Jai seemed to be giving off a more threatening air than usual. Lava was half certain his heart would jump out of his chest and run away.

"Jai! So good of you to join us! We were just having samosas, do you want some? I can ask the cook to-" Jai cut off Kusa's rambling with a raised eyebrow and glare.

He turned to pin Lava with his gaze. Lava whimpered. "Can I help you Annayya?"

The silence seemed to drag on forever, and Lava felt each nerve light up as a drop of sweat rolled from his forehead down his face, his neck, his collarbones before finally disappearing inside his shirt. Jai's stare felt hotter than the midday sun they were sitting under.

"What does Harsha like?" He finally spoke.

Lava's thoughts screeched to a halt. His breath may have too.

"...huh?"

Jai leaned forward to wrap a hand around the back of Lava's chair. Lava squeaked.

"He has a huge sweet tooth. And loves biriyani. Dogs. Action movies. The color red. Um, and… and dancing! He loves clubs."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Kusa looking at him like he had lost his mind. Lava wouldn't argue against that notion.

Jai's gaze seemed to bore into him, as though to confirm he was actually telling the truth. He must have been satisfied because after a minute he leaned back, giving them a curt nod before walking away. He disappearing into the mansion, trailed by a stunned looking Kaakha.

"Holy shit." Kusa swore softly.

Lava keened as he collapsed against the chair, sliding half way to the floor. "I thought I was going to die."

"What just happened?"

Both brothers looked at each other, astonishment coloring both their faces.

"Did...did Annayya just ask you for ideas about dates?" Kusa said.

Lava's eyes widened.

A slow but feral grin took over Kusa's face. "This is the best day ever. Where's Harsha?"

Lava looked panic stricken.  ”Why?”

“I want to know what he said to Jai! I mean come on, Jai is captivated! I want to know this guy better! That way we can guarantee Annayya seduces him!”

Lava grimaced. “This feels like a recipe for disaster.”

Kusa threw a used tissue paper at him. “Come on Lava! You are always the one pushing for us to do nice things for Annayya! Now that we have a chance of possibly setting him up with someone he likes and could maybe have a relationship with, you are backing away?”

“I-” Lava had to conceed the point to Kusa.  For all his apprehensions, Harsha was very clever and also knew how to fight. And if Annayya had really been angry about Harsha’s …proposition, Annayya would not have asked him about what Harsha enjoyed.

Kusa looked at him with eager eyes.

Lava sighed, rubbing his face, praying that this would not blow up in their faces.

“Okay. Let’s help Annayya,” and dear god, this was painful, this was Lava’s friend they were talking about. “seduce Harsha.”

Kusa whooped as he jumped up from the table, grabbing Kusa by the upper arm. “Let’s go!”

In the recesses of his brain which weren’t still clouded by fear of Annayya, Lava thought that Harsha might actually be a great match for his brother.

///

Man, my comedy stuff sounds way funnier in my head than on paper...

@rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally @jadebomani @stuckyandlarrystuff @veteran-fanperson @ohfuckoffpls  @carminavulcana @boochhaan @doodlesofthelastpage @filesbeorganized @meownique @ssabriel @meastradeur @ronika-writes-stuff @umbrulla @ladydarkey

[howaboutalittlehelpneos]

Going through the list of people I have blocked on main so I can update the blocklist of my side blogs, and sometimes if an account has no posts but their likes are visible, I have to look there to see if this is just a bot or a porn bot or just a weirdo, and I just saw a post about someone's headcanons for a yandere Yugi, and like. I'm sorry but that is the most unbelievable Yugioh character you could possibly headcanon as a yandere. He is such a good boy. You could pour hot soup in his lap and he'd say thank you.

[tomscottsredshirt]

can i please have a story where he’s sick and we snuggle and i feed him homemade soup. ultra super mega fluff please 🥰

tom scott x gn reader - sickness, cuddles & homemade soup

"how am i gonna film like this?"

"you've been coughing all day, your temperature is through the roof, you've used up so many tissues you could fill up the house with them. the answer is, you won't."

tom lets out a defeated sigh, which just makes him cough again. it sounds dry and painful. you can't help but caress his cheek lovingly, noticing how hot his skin is.

"bloody hell. i have a flight next wednesday. i can't just cancel it."

he pulls the covers all the way up to his chin, trembling underneath. your expression turns soft, eyes full of worry for your boyfriend.

"i really wish i could make your cold go away, but i can't, tom. let's just hope you recover as fast as possible. i'll take good care of you."

"i know you will. thank you." his voice is hoarse and weak. he blows his nose for what feels like the millionth time.

"my head feels twice as heavy as it usually does. ugh."

your heart aches seeing him like this, but you know you're doing everything you can. cough medicine, ibuprofen, lots of tissues, hot tea and soup. still, you feel a little helpless. you look at his form underneath the covers, only his head peeking out, and you climb onto bed with him, lifting the sheets and wrapping your arms around his weak form.

"what are you doing? you'll get sick as well," he croaks.

"don't care. i want to hold you," you mutter with a smile, burying your face in the soft fabric of his grey hoodie. tom chuckles, gently wrapping an arm around you as you let your legs intertwine with his, wanting him as close as possible. you absentmindedly play with his hair, holding each other in comfortable silence. tom can hardly breathe through his blocked nose, though. you put the back of your hand against his forehead, a concerned look on your face as you feel his hot skin.

"gotta measure your temperature again," you mutter, mostly to yourself as you let go of tom's embrace to get the thermometer, gently placing it in his mouth. you sit next to him, rubbing his arm, trying to comfort him a little as you wait for the little beep. it reads 38.1, lower than it was this morning, which makes you feel just a little relieved. you press a kiss on the top of his head before making your way to the kitchen.

"where are you going?" tom asks with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"i'll make you some soup. you just rest, okay?"

putting on some light music, you wash, chop and boil vegetables in hot water, adding salt and preparing the chicken and noodles for a good old traditional remedy for tom's cold. he scrolls on his phone and pulls out a book to read until then, coughing and blowing his nose what feels like every two minutes.

the pleasant smell of boiling chicken soup fills the air. once it's done, you turn off the stove, pouring a portion into a bowl.

walking over to tom, you gingerly give him the bowl of soup on a tray, careful not to spill it in his lap. he looks at you lovingly, even more tired than usual, yet you still can't help admiring that pretty face of his, even when he's sweaty and sick. you're head over heels for the man, damn it. a cold won't change that.

"thank you," he whispers. you sit down next to him, taking a spoonful and gently raising it to his mouth. he doesn't have the energy to argue against being spoonfed, so he just goes along with it. he only finishes half the plate, and you can't really blame him; you don't really have the biggest appetite when your body is doing its best to fight against whatever nasty germs are attacking your immune system. gently stroking tom's hair, you put the plate aside and bring him into your arms again, showering him with little kisses wherever you can reach; his cheeks, jaw, forehead, nose, neck. all he does is giggle softly, flustered by the sudden attention.

"you know, i might be feeling better already."

[seedsofagony]

Tomcat (GK)

Series: Golden Kamuy

Characters: Hijikata Toshizou, Nagakura Shinpachi; in alphabetical order: Ienaga Kano, Kadokura Toshiyuki, Kirawus, Okuyama Kantarou, Toni Anji, Ushiyama Tatsuuma

Summary: I don’t want to let the Hiji-cat-a out of the bag: SFW, fluff, alternate timeline, spoiler free

Word Count: 1,945

Notes: Inspired by the ohiru neko (sleepy cat) prize figures and this comic by tyag53, along with my desire for everybody to be together under one roof. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Image Credit: Alexander Possingham

Hijikata sat up slowly, blankets puddling in his lap, stretched and yawned. Light filtered in through the windows, cutting golden angles across the tatami mats and walls. He was surprised by the hour. Normally he would never sleep this late - it was a waste of daylight - but his futon was warm and soft, practically begging him to stay just a little while longer. His jaws cracked with another yawn and he rubbed bleary eyes.

No. He slapped his hands to his cheeks and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. Hair falling over his face, he tucked it behind his ears. The long grey strands fell loose back into his face. Absently, he tucked them back again, but the strands fell into his face. Furrowing his brow, Hijikata swept back his hair a third time only to realize there was nothing to hold it back.

Not a man to panic, he reached up and carefully felt the sides of his head. No ears. That couldn’t be - he could hear the birds outside the window, chittering and singing in a way that suddenly seemed to draw all of his attention. Soft movement on the top of his head amplified the sound. Tentatively, Hijikata smoothed his hands over his hair to discover two triangular ears covered in sleek fur.

His tail bristled - tail?! It stuck out straight behind him, a slender exclamation point with every grey hair on end. Taking a deep breath, Hijikata felt it relax slightly. The fur was still fluffed, but the tail curled around and into his lap for closer inspection. Tentatively, he stroked the raised fur, surprised by the pleasant buzz - not unlike a comb run through your hair.

Frowning thoughtfully, he held the tail - his tail - in his hands. First, he wondered how something like this could happen. Was he dreaming? He pulled a few hairs from the tail and winced. If he wasn’t dreaming, then why had no one else noticed? It was unusual for him to sleep this late, so why hadn’t anyone woken him up? Rousing himself with great difficulty from the warmth of his bed and stretching with markedly feline languor, Hijikata slid open the screen.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

At the sound of the screen sliding open behind him, Nagakura couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of relief. If that old demon wanted to sleep in - if he’d found some woman to spend the night without him knowing - that was his business. But there was always a part of him that worried. Hijkata Toshizou might be a legend, but he wasn’t immune to the ravages of old age. A heart attack or a stroke might take him as easily as any bullet.

He half-turned as Ienaga ladled miso soup into his bowl, knitting his shaggy brows together to disguise his relief. “I trust you slept well?”

The whole lot of them were early risers. It went without saying that Nagakura himself was awake before dawn - he practiced his sword, but the older he got, the less he found he needed to sleep. Ushiyama always got himself up early to train, and Toni was never long after. Ienaga busied herself with cooking breakfast or gathering herbs, and Kantarou had wisely learned to keep to her schedule. Kirawus was up early to hunt or fish - it was only his layabout companion, Kadokura, who couldn’t be bothered to rise in a timely manner. Ogata, well, he came and went and was little more than a stray cat.

Cat. Nagakura didn’t even notice the hot soup spilling over into his lap - didn’t even notice that Ienaga had not stopped pouring, her eyes fixed on Hijikata standing in the open screen. They all stared - chopsticks halfway to open mouths, conversations left dangling in mid-air. It was Ushiyama who finally spoke first.

“Well,” he said, returning to his rice, “I saw that in a brothel once. I just didn’t expect you to go in for that sort of thing, Hijikata.”

Nagakura exploded to his feet, half-foaming with wordless sounds, soup bowl sloshing over in his white-knuckled grip. “Wh-”

Hijikata held up a hand, the triangular ears on top of his head flicking back mildly. “I know this must come as a shock,” he began.

“Shock?!” Nagakura spluttered. “I expect this kind of prank from them,” he jabbed his chopsticks at Kirawus and Kadokura - who echoed a soft and simultaneous, Hey! -”But, Hijikata… you?”

Hijikata pursed his lips in a patient smile and began again. “I know this must come as a shock - to no one more than myself - but this is the way of it until we can find a cure.”

Still clutching the pot, Ienaga crowded around him, squinting at his ears. “They’re real?”

“Apparently,” said Hijikata. “And there’s more.” He coughed softly into his hand, a sinuous grey tail suddenly curling into view.

For a fraction of a second, you could have heard a pin drop - then the room erupted. Nagakura’s eyes rolled back into his head and he hit the floor, soup spraying across the tatami mat. Ienaga wondered if, at some desperate point in time, Hijikata had ever eaten a cat. Kantarou squealed then immediately covered his mouth, eyes wide but sparkling. Kadokura could only stutter and flush bright red while Kirawus banged him on the back, convinced he must be choking.

Only Ushiyama and Toni failed to react. Wiggling a finger in his ear, Toni grimaced. “Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Once the excitement died down and Nagakura had been revived, Hijikata tried to conduct business as usual. He went over the day’s plans, talked strategy, and doled out the necessary funds, but all the while, he couldn’t shake the heaviness of fatigue. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and take a little cat nap for, say, ten to twelve hours. After that? Something to eat and maybe a bath before going back to sleep. It was utterly unlike him, but he didn’t pay it any mind - it was instinctively feline hedonism.

The feeling only grew as the day progressed. His men came and went, while Hijikata found himself following the rays of the sun as they moved around the room. When the sun sank below the horizon, bathing the room in cool blue shadows, he nestled up to the brazier, nearly close enough to singe the fur on his ears and tail.

Stifling a yawn, neither seemed all that strange to him now. They weren’t entirely convenient - when Kadokura and Kirawus began to bicker like an old married couple, Hijikata’s ears flattened against his head, tail lashing in annoyance. That shut them up faster than his feline glare. It was becoming impossible to maintain his usual cool facade.

By the time dinner rolled around, the house was full again. Ienaga served up bowls of rice (which Hijikata mostly ignored) with grilled fish (which he devoured). Sake, while not quite as palatable as the fish, was still welcome, and deep into their cups, Hijikata’s new appendages became the center of attention again.

Kantarou sprawled out on the floor, face flushed, entranced by Hijikata’s lithe grey tail. “Can I touch it…?” he asked, words thick with drink.

Before Hijikata could answer, Kantarou circled his hand around the tail, gently stroking it from bottom to top, letting it fall from his loose grip. Hijikata sat bolt upright, struck by that pleasant buzz again, and a soft, deep Prrp! rumbled in his chest.

For the second time that day, you could have heard a pin drop. And for the second time, the room absolutely exploded, everyone crawling over the top of each other to pet ears and tail. Nagakura reacted better this time, emboldened by his sake. Swinging a broom like a katana - deadly if domestic - he chased them off or at least in circles. Hijikata slunk out of the room unnoticed. He’d had his share of the commotion and it was long past time for bed.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

In the morning, Hijikata found himself curled up on the blankets, tail wrapped snugly around his body and over his nose. It was dark still, but he could make out each sleeping shape as easily as if it were daylight. His ears swiveled toward the window, catching the chirping of birds - fascinating stuff. Rousing himself, he arched his back into a full-body stretch and padded toward the shades for a peek. Hands caught him up before he could even make it off the blanket.

“Hijikata?”

Nagakura peered at him, holding him under his arms. Hijikata flicked his tail in annoyance.

“Is that really you?”

Apart from his own name, the rest of Nagakura’s soft sounds were lost on Hijikata, totally unintelligible. He was more interested in those birds, and he’d just about enough of being held. But instead of putting him down, Nagakura hugged his small grey body to his chest, tucking his fuzzy head beneath his bristled chin. He tolerated it, and the longer Nagakura held him like this, the more pleasant it became. A deep purr emanated from his chest as Nagakura buried his nose into his fur.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

At breakfast, no one knew what to say. The old grey cat lay curled in Nagakura’s lap, dozing, purring in its sleep as he stroked its fur. Of one thing, however, they were certain. The Hijikata Toshizou they knew was gone, his nightclothes in a wrinkled heap on his futon, his sword untouched. He had been replaced, every whisker, by this feline and showed no signs of recognition. Although, now that he was a cat, it was hard to tell if he really didn’t know them or if he was just doing as cats are wont to do.

Kantarou was the first to speak. “So… now what?” He stared down at the cat, torn between heartbreak and desperately wanting to hold the little animal himself.

Kadokura rubbed his stubbled chin. “Do we continue the mission?”

“Can we?” Ushiyama frowned, arms folded across his chest. “Is there a mission without him?”

“The gold is still out there,” said Toni. “We have a copy of his tattoo. We could try.”

“Carry on his dream?” Ienaga tapped her finger on her lips. “I suppose there’s no reason why he couldn’t turn back someday…”

Kirawus took a drag on his pipe. “It’s worth a try.”

Nagakura cleared his throat, but his voice was rough with emotion. “If you all want to keep going, then have it. As for me… I'm staying with him.”

He looked down at the cat and scratched it behind the ears, tender in a way he could never have been before. The cat purred louder, stretched, toes splayed, then looked up at him, blinking slowly. Nagakura pursed his lips, whiskers bristling, as he held back tears.

“Then it’s decided,” said Ushiyama suddenly. He rubbed furiously at his nose and sniffed hard. “Kantarou, today you’re coming with me. Kadokura, Kirawus, you two are-”

Assignments and funds were given. Breakfast was cleaned up, the dishes washed and put away. The house emptied out save for Nagakura and the cat, who remained where they sat, bathed in warm rays of morning light.

“If you ever get well,” murmured Nagakura, “I hope you remember this day.” The cat did not stir, but sat in a loaf on the old man’s lap. “Alive or dead, Hijikata Toshizou still commands the hearts of men.”

At this, the cat opened one eye - its slitted pupil meeting Nagakura’s gaze - before closing it again. A deep purr rumbled through its chest, and Nagakura could not be sure that the demon vice commander was not still there, somewhere, in the soft body of a small grey cat.

[slashingdisneypasta]

M.I. again :) Thanks for the turtle gif it was very sweet. Enemies to lovers is totally my jam, so I'm glad you like it. Though, if you ask Blackie it's just a friendly rivalry where people's souls hang in the balance...harmless fun

(BTW, read the thing you wrote about Wayne and lmao..."It's not cake, only Wayne. Disappointing" is such a sick burn. And good luck on your future wedding to breeding kink grandpa lol)

1972

The woman is shaking when she comes in, tucking herself into the booth furthest from the door. Keeping a watchful, wary eye on it as she does. She's fashionably dressed. Obviously comes from money, and you doubt she's ever let a hair slip out of place until now. The gray-streaked brown strands look like they haven't been brushed today.

"What can I get you," you chirp, maintaining a cheerful air even as you notice the gun shoved haphazardly under the jumble in her partially-zipped purse.

She keeps the purse in her lap, clutching it closed as best she can. But the gun is simply too large to be entirely hidden by the small bag.

"Just coffee," she says, never once looking at you.

All the same, you notice her eyes are glassy. She's been crying.

You hurry away, breathing a silent prayer that The Cafe had flickered into view before she could do whatever it was she'd meant to do. Adding a mental note to the freshly-brewed pot that she needs decaf. The sight of the weapon has made you uneasy, bringing to mind memories of a night filled with pain and hopelessness, but if you don't get back to her before Blackie shows up...

The amount of victories to failures has finally started to skew in your favor. Not that it stops him from trying. Though you've got to admit he helps as much as he hinders, the latter is practically a compulsion for him. He's forever trying to convince you or Tommy to make a bet with him on something. Or ignore a customer in need. Just let him handle it.

"Comfort food," you whisper hastily through the kitchen window to Tommy. "Tomato soup or something light."

He nods, then tilts his chin in a warning way. Look behind you. For a moment, you freeze in fear but upon forcing yourself to turn around it's replaced by irritation.

There's Blackie. Right on time. Sauntering in through the entrance. Making a beeline for the woman as she takes out a cigarette, smoothly offering a light as he sits down. She looks startled, but thanks him without protest.

Grabbing up the coffeepot and an empty cup, you nearly sprint back to her table. Narrowly avoiding sloshing the hot liquid all over the place with how quickly you pour.

"Is he bothering you?"

Not waiting for ana answer, you fix him with a stern expression.

"Go away," you order.

He holds up his hands in surrender, vacating the booth. The ease of it makes you trust him even less.

"Blackie, I swear-" you hiss in warning, grabbing his arm with your free hand.

"I know. At me. All the time."

He looks down at your hand, then back up to meet your eyes. Giving one of those grins that leaves you feeling violent. There are worse things than a disappearing dishtowel. Like thumbtacks appearing every time you sit down, waiting until after you've given the seat a thorough, paranoid once over. Or flopping into bed to find that your pillow is actually a rock. If you go past angry words into actions, he's definitely going to retaliate. While smugly acting as if he's got the moral highground for not physically touching you.

He's practically daring you to fall back into the habit he's broken you of. Maybe even do worse than swat him with the towel. And you know exactly why. There's a nervous, would-be murderer sitting at the table. If you give in, you don't have the right to tell her violence is never the answer.

You're not losing this one.

You let go of him, wrinkling your nose in disgust when he winks at you before walking away.

"I'm sorry," you say to her, loud enough for him to hear. "He's kind of a terrible person."

"Worse than someone who gives his mistress his wife's grandmother's engagement ring?"

Spinning around, you gape at him. Blackie's behind the counter, now, leaning forward; chin resting in his hands. He flutters his lashes like some wide-eyed ingenue as you give an outraged exclamation of his name. You'd been working up to gently asking her what the not-so-secret weapon was for..

"How did you-" the woman asks faintly at the same time, the words nearly drowned out by your cry.

"What," he asks. "I'm just saying. Guy like that should be shot. Don't you think?"

He looks past you at the last question, directing the remark toward the shocked woman. Pushing off from the counter, he turns toward the kitchen window with a languid grace that makes you incredibly angry. Swanning around all nonchalant, as if he didn't just detonate a conversational bomb.

"Soup ready? I'm starving."

Tommy's glaring as hard as you are, dipping and passing a bowl through the window. Blackie takes the booth right behind your customer, in the seat facing her. Sighing, you take the empty spot he left at her table. Apologizing again for his very existence and giving her the rundown of her situation.

She's at a crossroads. The Cafe came to her because she needed help. And for the love of God, please ignore Blackie and his thousand little interjections because he's a complete dick!

"Look, it's not an easy thing, taking someone's life-"

"-Is with a gun," he interrupts, tone absent. "Just pull the trigger, keep your distance and it's almost not even your fault."

"Shut up and eat," you snap, not giving him the satisfaction of looking behind. Keeping your eyes solely focused on the woman.

You try talking her around by pointing out that killing even one of the people who'd wronged her means they'll win. She'll be the one punished. But she's fully-prepared for jail, not caring as long as they aren't breathing. It's the only way either of them will know how much this hurts.

But wouldn't it be better, you ask, to get grandma's ring back the legal way and take her husband to the cleaners in the divorce? Imagine how much he'll hate signing the alimony check every month instead of spending more on that homewrecker.

Plus, you just happen to know a guy who can recommend some absolutely ruthless lawyers. (You know he'll do that much for her, even if he is likely the one who sold her the gun. He likes to amuse himself by handing out what he deems poetic justice.)

"Could I have some of that soup," the woman asks with a watery laugh.

"Sure thing. Tommy, soup," you call, raising your voice to carry into the kitchen.

You're a little peeved that he took Blackie's obvious hint and kept his distance from the lady with the gun. As if you aren't also afraid of them.

You immediately forgive him when the woman takes the gun from her purse, freezing Tommy in his tracks and making a chill crawl up your spine. Then you sag in relief when she only slides it across the table. He finishes bringing over the soup with an air of extreme caution.

"Here. I won't need this," she says.

You pick it up gingerly, unsure what you're meant to do with it beyond passing it along to Tommy.

"Get rid of it," you say and receive a confused, helpless glance in response.

He's not sure, either. Just carries it off to the kitchen. Who knows where it'll wind up from there.

The woman eats her soup and goes on her way with a different sort of determination than the one that brought her in.

Later, the three of you gather to watch the divorce hearing of Sarah and Jonathan Berkowitz. Blackie's perched on a stool, cigar in hand. You're standing directly across from him, arms folded and one hip jutted against the counter. Tommy's just behind, his taller form meaning he has no trouble seeing over you. His hand rests on your shoulder and you're okay with that.

You've slowly come to realize that you didn't love him anymore by the time your lives ended, only clinging to the words as a point of comfort. But since you've been here, he's started to become someone you could almost like. Introspective. Thinking before he acts.

You're even glad, now, that he hid from the gun. A little sad, too, because you remember a time when the only thing that scared him was your rightful anger. Still, his lack of involvement means that when Sarah hits the jackpot in court, it only compounds your already stunning victory. Yours.

Turning your head, you throw Blackie a triumphant smirk of your own.

He touches his index finger to his forehead and nods slightly, the tiniest salute but still an amazing acknowledgement of your latest win. Your first encounter with a would-be killer (sort of, but you're not counting the one who got you) and you've managed to stop her all by yourself.

Nice of him to admit that's a pretty big deal.

Your smile turns a little more sincere. This time his answering grin -stretched too wide around the cigar- feels more like a friendly challenge than condescension.

MMMMMMMMM I AM LOVING THIS SO SO MUCH YOU'RE A GENIUS WRITER XD

I can f e e l the chemistry! Ughh. I need her to compare Tommy and Blackie so b a d-

And thank you- wedding is set for the 31st of February ^^ XD