#i have a sore throat or something now which i had last month too so i think its just

[lalacliffthorne]

because it does have it's perks that Azriel is running cool sometimes

(brought to you by me remembering how awfully sick I was a few months ago, and how I wished for something like this. now you do too. you're welcome.)

“Ugh.” Burying my nose in my pillow, I slowly breathed out through my open mouth, feeling a scowl form on my face, even though it felt a little weak.

I hated being sick.

An awful scratch started forming in my throat, and I coughed, my body shaking with the force of it and tears building at the corners of my eyes from the pain.

Groaning softly, I pushed myself up on an elbow, still coughing lightly, the sound rattling my body as I reached for one of the many cups on the nightstand. The tea within was one of the things Feyre had brought yesterday.

She had appeared in the middle of the apartment out of thin air, cringing at the sound of the cough welcoming her, carrying two bags, one of which contained homemade chicken soup and the other supplies Madja had given her, including drops against the stuffed nose so that I could at least try and sleep at night, teas and syrups against the sore throat, paste for the fever – it felt like she had whizzed once through the whole infirmary.

It was clear Madja had not believed me a bit when I had told her I was fine.

But the whole of Velaris was currently plagued by a rather nasty flu, and she and the other healers had their hands full. It was the only reason I had been helping in the infirmary in the first place – and probably how I had gotten to where I was now: Sick and miserable.

Carefully taking a sip of tea, I pushed the cup back onto my nightstand, breathing against my closed up nose and carefully sinking back into the pillows, my head thrumming with the movement.

Ow.

Blinking, I felt my eyes begin to burn and scowled as I squeezed them shut, breathing through my open lips as I tried to blend out the way my body ached and how my head pulsed.

Help.

I felt a soft brush of air that should not have existed, because all the windows were closed, and when I furrowed my brows and cracked open an eye, my heart skipped weakly.

The last two and a half days, since I had locked myself up to not get anyone else sick, the only person who had visited was Feyre, mostly because when she had appeared in my apartment on the first day without prompt, I had first thrown a pillow at her head for risking to get sick before I made her promise to not let any of the others get in here.

Of course that had not kept him away.

Azriel's eyes moved over the apartment that was unusally dark even in the middle of the day, the curtains drawn because even the halflight made my head pound. His shadows whispered curiously, moving over the big carpet that was covered with tissues, the nightstand crowded by used cups and cans with tea, the sink full of unwashed dishes – and me, buried deep under my blanket and trying to glare at him.

“What are you doing here?”, I croaked, almost cringing at my own voice, hoarse from coughing and nasal from my stuffed nose as I slowly pushed myself up, wincing at the way my head protested. “Get out, you'll get sick.”

Azriel threw me a look, and even if the halflight, I saw the way he scowled back.

“I knew Feyre played this down.” His deep mumble caused my heart to skip weakly again, and I glowered at him.

“Yes, because I told her to, so that no one else would turn up here.” My voice broke with the last word, and a new fit of coughs shook my body, my eyes tearing up as I turned, but before I could reach for my mug, a gloved hand picked it up, and when my gaze darted up, Azriel crouched down next to the bed and handed it to me. A wrinkle had formed between his brows as his gaze moved over my face. His cheekbones were tinged pink from the cold outside, his dark brows were furrowed, his lips looked soft -

Maybe it was the fact that I was so sick, I felt a little delirious. But he looked so beautiful, it made my chest ache.

Forcing down a few sips of tea, I breathed out through my mouth, burying back into the pillows when Azriel took the mug and placed it on the bedside table. The crease on his forehead deepend, and then he slipped off a glove and reached out.

My breath hitched a little, something turning over in my chest, and in reflex, I pulled away.

Something shifted through Azriel's eyes, and his face froze over, his scarred hand stilling in the air.

My heart tightened as I realized what it looked like, and I breathed out in frustration at myself.

“I don't want you to get sick,”, I mumbled, my voice raspy as I dropped my head into the pillow, my lids heavy and eyes burning from being open.

I could feel Azriel's gaze, could feel it piercing the side of my face. Then something brushed my shoulder, and the next, he carefully placed the back of his hand on my forehead.

I sucked in a soft breath, because his skin was cool, even after being under his lined gloves, like it really was freezing outside and he had been flying the whole morning. It felt heavenly.

Which is why I blamed it on the fact I was sick and delirious that when Azriel pulled back his hand, my own shot out to catch it, and without missing a beat, I tugged it close, dragging his whole arm towards me as I tucked Azriel's hand, rough and far bigger than my own, against my chest, almost whimpering with relief when it pressed against my too hot skin.

I could feel the shadowsinger grow rigid. His fingers froze in mine, and I felt my cheeks heat a little more as I cracked open an eye, ready to defend myself. But the words got stuck in my throat.

Azriel was staring at me. His lips were a little agape, the crease still between his brows, but almost smoothed over, like what I had done had made him forget about the reason it had been there in the first place. His fingers twitched, and I already prepared for him to pull his hand out of my grip and away from my body – but then Azriel blinked, and his hand shifted, gently closing around mine as the back of his forefinger carefully stroked over my chest.

“You're burning up,”, he mumbled, and I was almost sure his low voice sounded a little raspy.

“Knew you think I'm hot,”, I mumbled back, my head thrumming as I blinked heavily and grinned weakly, and Azriel rolled his eyes, but for a second, I caught his lips curving.

For a second, his gaze moved over my face, then he blinked and dropped his head, and something flickered a little in my chest when he pulled his other glove off with his teeth, dropping it carelessly as he raised his free hand.

My eyes fluttered shut and a blissful whimper left me when Azriel pressed his palm against my forehead, his thumb slowly brushing over my cheek. I nuzzled my face into his hand, not caring about anything but the fact that his skin was cool, the fever made my body feel like it was on fire and this was the closest to being a little more comfortable I had gotten in days.

My eyes fluttered shut as the movement triggered another wave of pounding headaches, and I coughed lightly, the rattling sound making my own face pull into a wince as I sniffled against my blocked nose.

“I still don't want to get you sick,”, I mumbled, my voice hoarse, and Azriel's hand shifted in mine, his fingers carefully linking with mine as his deep voice gently rumbled over me.

“You won't.”

“I think you're overestimating yourself.” Tipping my head slightly, I stared at him in exhaustion, feeling my lips curve as I raised an eyebrow tiredly. “Even big bad Illyrian warriors can get the flu.”

Azriel's eyes flickered over my face, and the shadow of a crease formed in his cheek. Then he blinked and straightened up, his hands slipping away from me. Something tightened a little in my chest, but when I opened my eyes that had already started to droop again, my heart jumped so high, it got stuck in my throat.

Azriel was stripping out of his chest armor, the winter leathers heavy as he peeled them off and dropped them to the ground with a thud. Muscles shifted under his skin, causing his tattoos to shift as well, like they were moving over his shoulders like his shadows, and suddenly, breathing felt even more difficult than before as my eyes dragged over his torso, chiselled like carved from marble, the dip of his shoulders where they met his neck, the planes of his chest over his lean, muscled middle -

Azriel's thigh holsters with his knives hit the floor, then he kicked off his boots and moved towards me, and I felt my lips part, my voice so croaky I couldn't even blame it onto the flu anymore as I mumbled: “You know, I'm not sure I'm in the shape for that right now -“

Azriel huffed, and I was almost sure to see a twinkle flash through his eyes when he glared at me.

“We need to get your temperature down.” The mattress dipped, and I could just stare with hitching breaths when Azriel climbed over me, dropping onto the mattress and propping himself up until he could spread his wings comfortably. Then he raised his eyes, and something started fluttering weakly against my ribs when they met mine, twinkling just a little bit as he held out his arm. “Come on.”

I felt my lips part, my head thrumming as I stared, stared at the male that just had to be so godsdamned gloriously perfect, and one corner of Azriel's lips twitched a little. Then he softly arched an eyebrow, like a silent challenge.

And maybe it was because there was pain thrumming under my temples and my skin was burning up and I was just utterly exhausted, or the overwhelming urge to be close to him had just finally gotten too much – but I just breathed a soft grumble and turned around, simply flopping onto his chest. My cheek met his skin, my arm wrapping around his middle as I curled into his side, and I almost purred at the sensation of his cool skin against my own, way too hot and flushed.

I would have been completely content like this, my eyes already drooping, ready to doze off to hopefully get a reprieve from the thrum in my head – only the shadowsinger had other plans.

His arm snuck around my back, sliding under me, the other wrapped around my waist, and smoothly, like I weighed nothing, Azriel pulled me up onto his chest.

I almost groaned at the sensation of his cool skin pressing against mine wherever it was exposed. I had long shed any shirts I used for sleeping and was only wearing underwear and a soft bra under a short flimsy thing with thin straps, and I had never been happier about little clothing before.

Draping my arm over his chest, I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, feeling my eyes flutter shut when just for a second, the pulsing pain in my head seemed to subside a bit. I thought I could feel Azriel shudder a little when my nose brushed over his throat, then I shuffled a bit, pulling up my leg and draping it over Azriel's waist, almost shivering blissfully when my bare thigh pressed against his cool skin.

Azriel's muscles shifted under me. I could feel it ripple through his body as he grew still, his hand tensing where it was pressed against my hip, my top ridden up far enough for his skin to be flush against mine, and my heart stumbled a little.

Suddenly, the pounding in my head was back, only it had transferred to my chest, the ache growing as I felt myself grow stiff, because maybe I had gone too far, crossed a line –

Quickly, I raised my head, almost wincing at the way the movement caused my head to swim, and my eyes found Azriel's, only inches away, so close I could see the golden sprinkles in his honey-colored iris, so close I could count the shadows of the few freckles on his nose.

Azriel blinked. Then something shifted in his eyes, and a deep exhale left him. His head dipped forward, and I simply lost my breath when his arm wrapped tighter around my waist and hauled me up, up until my whole body was completely draped over his, his rough hand slipping under my top and up my back until his whole arm pressed against my spine and his other hand – his other hand grabbed my blanket and threw it over us before it slid under my knee, pulling it up further until his arm slipped under it and his whole forearm was curled around my thigh.

And again, maybe because I was delirious with fever and pain thrumming through my head and whole body, my heart just fluttered softly and warmly as I curled deeper into his chest, burying my face in the crook of his neck and closing my heavy eyes.

And when Azriel pulled me closer, dropping his nose into my hair as his thumb started to gently brush over my spine and I began to slowly doze off, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this stupid flu had turned out to have some perks after all.

[peachybeom]

hickeys ♡

slight suggestive

beomgyu x reader

You stared intensely at the empty bottle of concealer in your hand, as if your continuous gaze would magically refill the product which was now hollowed out inside it.

Defeated, you set down the bottle on the slab and inspected yourself in the large mirror situated in front of you.

You were dressed in a strapless black dress, for which you had saved up for almost an entire month.

Your makeup was light but sophisticated and hair rested gently on your shoulders in long beachy curls.

This look was as admirable as you can present yourself to be, and you were satisfied with it- until your eyes again travelled to the giant reddish blue bruise imprinted firmly on your neck.

You cursed your luck, when you found out that you had run out of the concealer, one you usually used often to cover these love bites, because everything else in your makeup kit just seemed not to be doing the trick.

You tried everything-using three different shades of foundation, excessively rubbing your skin with a toothbrush, even spraying your hair stiff to hide the sore spot but nothing seemed to be working.

You let out an irritated scream and slammed your hands loudly on your vanity.

Today was one of the most important day in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. You two had been going out for almost an year and Beomgyu’s parents had invited you to their yearly business celebratory dinner.

You knew this dinner was a big deal because it was supposed to be attended by important people along with family, the higher ups who held valuable assets in Choi Businesses so naturally you had planned well in advance, picking out your dress weeks ago, practicing civil conversations one could have with their boyfriend’s parents again and again in your head so you could leave a good impression on them.

“Is everything alright babe?” Beomgyu asked in a concerned tone.

You turned to look at your boyfriend and your breath almost got caught up in your throat.

He was still in the middle of getting dressed, hair slicked back neatly and shirt buttoned up halfway through the top.

Choi Beomgyu screamed perfection, without even trying.

You quickly brought yourself back to reality and scowled at him.

“This is your fault,” You said pointing at the hickey now almost turning red.

It was indeed his fault. Last night Beomgyu acted unusually needy and demanded attention. One too many glasses of wine later you both found yourselves on the couch exploring every crook and crevices of each other’s body while a marvel movie played out in the background softly.

Beomgyu stepped closer, and bent slightly almost closing the gap between the two of you.

“Wha-what are you doing?” You stuttered at the sudden proximity.

“Hmm I think I could have done better,” Beomgyu responded in an amused tone, touching your neck gently.

“Beomgyu!” You slapped his arm and pointed at the clear bottle placed at the side of your table.

“I ran out of the concealer and now I have no idea how to cover this up, I’ve tried doing everything-oh my God we only have an hour and half left!” You panicked burying your face in your hands, this was not how you planned to start your evening.

“Hey hey hey it’s fine we will figure something out,” Beomgyu said holding your hand in his, biting back a smile.

The truth was that you were making a big fuss of the party. Though today was an important day, Beomgyu knew that his parents would adore you as soon as they met you.

They wouldn’t mind if you didn’t act perfect- nobody would but still he let you plan and plot every move for tonight just because he thought you looked cute doing it.

“Let’s try looking up on the internet yeah?” Beomgyu said in an attempt to calm you down.

After a few minutes, there you both sat on the floor of the bedroom, makeup brushes and palettes scattered everywhere in the room.

“How about we cover it up with a band aid?” Your boyfriend suggested as he scrolled through his phone searching for remedies on hiding hickeys- his search history similar to a teenage girl who just spent the night at her crush’s house for the first time.

“No that would look too odd,” You responded pouting.

“You know what I think I should just give up and change into something else, even though this dress costed a fortune,” You continued in a disappointed tone.

“No I found something! wait a minute,” Beomgyu exclaimed loudly before getting up and leaving the room hurriedly.

After a while Beomgyu returned with an ice filled bowl and sat down next to you.

“Tilt your head,” He ordered.

You carefully obliged and closed your eyes involuntarily when the small block of ice came in contact with your skin.

“I’m supposed to rub it on the hickey for a few minutes and it will disappear,” Beomgyu explained, but you hardly paid attention because the sensation of the ice mixed along with his breath on neck for even just a second had you on cloud nine.

A few minutes would be torture.

Beomgyu seemed to have caught on your reaction and decided to tease you further.

He purposely added another ice cube between his fingers and your neck and applied slight pressure causing it to melt faster.

“Almost done, just a little more,” He whispered, lips grazing your ear seductively.

You bit your tongue in response holding back your breathe successfully.

“Or we can speed it up a bit,” Beomgyu moved closer to your neck and gently licked the droplets of water forming just on top of your hickey.

“Oh my god,” You let out breathy moan, tightening your grip on the chair next to you.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you Y/N?” Beomgyu smirked as he moved his lips upwards to nibble at your ear.

You tried to reason with yourself, reaching out for Beomgyu’s hand which was now slowly making its way towards your cleavage. He applied a bit more pressure pressing the now melted cube of ice to your hot skin, this caused you to squeak.

“G-gyu...”

He was right, you couldn’t ask him to stop, you won’t ask him to stop. Maybe if you were in the right state of mind you would, you both had to leave in an hour and neither one of you were close to being ready- but to hell with it, you thought as you grabbed Beomgyu by his shirt collar.

“No don’t stop,” You pleaded, eyes filled with desperation.

This was enough of a response for Beomgyu to pull you towards him and hurriedly pull down the zip of your newly bought dress.

You were late to the party- fashionably late, as Beomgyu described it.

But you had a good time. With Beomgyu by your side, you seemed to have bonded well with both of his parents.

His mother adored you, continuously passing lovely comments, few directed especially at the slick turtleneck dress you were wearing that night.

[thebestofoneshots]

birthday girl | marauders x reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Ravenclaw Reader Word Count: 3.8 k Warnings: none Prompt: It's your birthday but you're sick. The boys are just total darlings and care for you no matter the risks, making sure you have a super happy speacial day regardless. Comfort Fic // Birthday fic Written for @kquil

Soooo… thanks to @kquil's 1k follower celebration we discovered our birthdays are super close together, and it made me so excited I had to ask when her birthday was exactly and then I knew and then I had this idea in my head. 

And gosh, Kquil, I absolutely love the way you write love, so I wanted to make a little something for you. Hope you’re having a fantastic day sweetie, even if you’re sick with that goddamned awful virus, it feels like shit, I know it does, so I thought, perhaps a little comfort fic could make you feel better. 

This is just a little gift I wanted to make, a token of appreciation for you always sharing your lovely fluffy fics (that honestly make my days brighter)  with us, hope you enjoy <3

You woke up with a headache, sighting as you shut your eyes close again, the brightness coming from the large castle windows causing you to wince. You had felt the signs, the sore throat, the mild headaches and stomach pain, you were well aware you were getting sick but you honestly hoped your body would hold at least after your special day to break down. 

Hopes be damned, it was your birthday and you felt like shit, actually, no, you felt like you had been run over by a truck, which was slightly worse. You took your wand out and cast a spell to muffle the sounds of the already waking castle, especially the sound of your roommates, whom you adored but were too loud for your sick mind to tolerate. You grabbed your pillow and placed it over your head, groaning from how uncomfortable and sore you felt, you’d hoped the pillow would at least muffle the sound a little, no such luck, since just minutes after Mal was popping her head through your curtains and looking at you with brows furrowed in concern. 

“You all right luv?” 

You shook your head in response finally lowering down the pillow from your face, “feel like shit,” you admitted. “Remember I mentioned my throat was feeling funny?” Mal nodded “Well, it looks like it finally decided to give in.” And it really did, it felt like sandpaper every time you said a word. 

“Hold up a sec,” she said and pulled her head out “Hey Sage, do you still have those lemon caught drops we made in potions last month?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Sweet!” she said, you heard her step away and the rest of the conversation was toned out by your charm, after less than a minute later, Mal popped her head back in, small cystal jar in her hands “There you go love,” she said with a smile “Happy Birthday!” 

You chuckled and took the jar from her hands, cranking it open and placing one of the yellow candies in your mouth “Thanks!” you said with a smile. 

From the other side, Sage popped her head “Happy birthday sweetheart,” she said with a smile. 

You smiled at the two girls, shaking your head as you continued to suck on the candy, it was nice to know you had them in your life. You then heard the door creak open and another girl poped her head next to Mal “Hey luv, Happy Birthday!” she said, and then waved her hand, a tower of pancakes with a candle on top appeared on the side of your bed, you sat up, smiling wildly, and completly ignoring the headache and soreness. 

“This is– Thank you girls…” you said, looking at them with a grateful smile, making room for them to sit on the bed.

“Only the best for our best girl,” Eryn said with a wink as she sat on the edge. 

“She’s feelin’ sick thought,” Sage added, with a small pout. 

“The cough drops–“ 

“–we’ve already given them to her,” interrupted Mal “How’s the throat?” 

“Much better,” you said honestly, the caught drops really were doing their magic “The headache and the soreness is still there, unfortunately.” 

Sage pouted now, looking at you with a bit of a frown as you munched on your pancakes “Eating will make you feel better. You can skip breakfast if you want.” 

“Oh no, she can’t,” Eryn said shaking her head. “There’s a certain someone waiting for her just outside. And he looked just about to pick up a fight with the eagle for not letting him in.” 

You opened your eyes in shock “Don’t tell me it’s…” 

“Yup,” Eryn said with a smile “he might bring the door down if you don’t actually get out.” 

You shook your head in disbelief but nodded “I better hurry then.”

“You sure luv?” Sage asked “We can tell him to screw off and come back when you’re feeling better.”

You shook your head “I’ll just pass by Pomfrey before class or something,” you said with a smile and the three girls nodded, they were already wearing their uniforms, blue ties shining over their crisp white shirt. 

“You done?” Mal asked, pointing at your plate, you nodded and she vanished it right after. You looked at her surprised “I’ve been practicing evanesco lately.” 

You nodded and made an O in between your thumb and finger to indicate it’d been a fantastic casting. She nodded excitedly in response and the three girls went back to their respective beds. You stood from your bed, taking a long deep breath as you felt the pain and soreness after moving just a little, and started to slowly put your uniform on. 

You struggled so much while attempting to tie the tie with your scrambled mind that you decided to leave it as is, and deal with it later, genuinely worried one of the boys would actually break the door down if you took too long. You grabbed your bag and lousily threw your books and some parchment inside before walking out of your room and towards the entrance of the common room. 

The door opened easily and the first thing you spotted was his bright red converses, tapping against the stone floor impatiently. He ran straight to you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, which you enjoyed as much as it made you squirm, the pain in your muscles being very present. He started to slather soft kisses over your face when you gently pushed him off you. He looked at you with concern, trying to search for what was going on in your eyes. 

“I’m sick,” you told him, still trying to move away from his grasp. 

“Don’t care,” he said pulling you into a hug again. You shook your head but hid your face on his chest either way 

“You’re gonna catch my cold.” 

“Will be worth it as long as I can hug my birthday girl,” he said, still hugging you “And kiss her,” he whispered sneakily. 

“James!” you whined, It was already hard enough to resist his charm without him actively trying to charm you. 

“What’s the plan today?” 

“Class, probably,” you said with a shrug and went back to look at your tie, attempting to tie it by yourself, only to groan and let it hang over your neck either way. 

James frowned “You have a headache, don’t you?” You nodded as you leaned into his chest, not bothering to answer. 

“And my whole body aches, I’m more sore than that one time we fell off the broom.” 

James winced, remembering how bad that time had been “Moony should have something to help, let’s go!” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him. 

“Where are we going?” You asked as you allowed him to pull you along. 

“Gryffindor common rooms,” he said as he sneaked the two of you behind a statue. 

“Your portrait’s not gonna let me in.” 

James stopped and turned to you, taking your tie in between his hands and gently pulling it off your shoulders, it slid right off easily. He placed it in his pocket and took off his own, placing it over your head and accommodating the neck of your shirt with ease. 

“The tie wasn’t the only…” you started, but he was already taking off his vest and putting it over your head. “But what about the…” With a swish of his wand, your robes turned wine red instead of blue. You started at the boy in disbelief “Could’ve just charmed my entire uniform instead…” 

He shrugged “Maybe, but you look too cute in my clothes, there was no chance I passed the opportunity up.” You smiled and shook your head at his antics, he placed his hand over yours again and started dragging the two of you through the passageways until you were just outside of his common room. You stood beside him with an awkward smile as he told the lady the password. You swore she threw you a look, but instead of saying anything she just smiled, as if she knew something that you didn’t, and allowed the two of you to come inside. 

You noticed some stares on James, but no one dared to say a thing as he pulled you along the stairs and towards his room, when he opened the door you spotted your two other boyfriends inside, Sirius was buttoning up his shirt and Remus was lacing up his boots. 

“Happy birthday dove,” he said when he spotted you, finishing the bow he was working on and walking towards you in three long strides, he placed a hand on the top of your head, letting it gently fall down as he brought your forehead to his lips “what brings you here?” 

“James,” you joked, you saw Sirius finish up his buttoning and he ran up to you, planting a kiss right on your lips, but you pushed him off with a worried expression and attempted to wipe his face with the sleeve of your hand. 

“What’s with her?” Sirius asked when he finally managed to get your arm off his face.

“Says she’s sick,” responded James.

“I AM sick!” you said “I had a cough drop in the morning, my head is dizzy and everything hurts. That’s why James brought me here.” 

“I should have something to lift your spirits,” Remus said thoughtfully as he moved towards his desk and started rummaging through his medicine cabinet.

Sirius pouted “Does that mean you won’t kiss me today?” 

“Well, I don’t want you to get sick too.” 

“But it’s your birthday,” he argued “You should get all the kisses in the world.” 

“Not at the expense of my boyfriends getting sick.” 

Remus came over again, handing you a small potion “Should help with the pain and headache,” he said as he handed it over to you. 

You took it in one go, “How long will it take for it to… oh.”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded with a smile “Pomfrey gave me the recipe for that time of the month, it’s great innit?” 

You nodded in response and Sirius inched closer “Does that mean I can kiss you now.” 

“Not because I don’t feel sick does it mean I’m not,” you scolded. 

“What if we take something to stop us from getting your cold?” 

“Is there such a potion?” James asked. 

“‘Course there is, isn’t there Moony?” Sirius said looking straight at the boy in question, who quickly deciphered Sirius’ intentions and nodded “Yeah, yeah… I’ve got some in my closet.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the boys, you knew of no such potion, but your head was a bit too cloudy to argue, and Remus was better at potions than you were anyway so you decided to trust them in this one. 

Remus grabbed a small potion and they divided it between the three. Sirius smiled and brought you close to his face “Wicked! Now do I get to slather you with kisses?” 

You looked at the boy, his curls falling beautifully at the side of his head, there was a slight blush on your cheeks as you nodded, but you weren’t quite sure if the blush was because of Sirius’ beautiful face, his adoring eyes, or because you were getting a fever, or perhaps all three. 

He leaned in and placed a kiss on your eye “Happy birthday love,” he said and pressed a kiss on your other eye “Happy birthday,” he said and then pressed another kiss, this time on your cheek “Happy birthday...” 

And he would’ve gone on, but James stopped him, removing the boy from your face, which earned him a glare “All right, that’s enough, you’re hogging her!” 

“We should get to class,” you said as you grabbed Remus’ wrist and brought it closer to your face to check the time on his watch. It was something you did rather often, and Remus enjoyed it a lot more than he let on. There was nothing like the soft touch of your hands over his wrist, over anywhere on his body, if he was honest. 

“Should we?” asked James as he placed a hand on your forehead “I don’t know sweetheart, it seems to me like you’re a bit too sick for class.” 

You looked at him in disbelief “Too sick for class but not too sick to kiss you?” 

“Hey I don’t make the rules,” he said raising his hand with a diverted smile “What do you think Pads? Does she look well enough for class?” 

The boy in question placed a hand on your cheek, and looked at you attentively “Now that you mention it Prongs,” he said slowly “Our lovely Kquill does look a bit pale, doesn’t she?” 

You took his hand off your face and turned to Remus, hoping he’d be the only sensible person left “Come on Rem, you know we have to go to class don’t you?” 

He tilted his head “How many classes have you missed this year Sweetheart?” 

“I…uh-“ 

“–She hasn’t missed any,” James said, very sure of his answer. 

“I have.” 

“Really? Which one?” 

“I… I missed History of Magic last month.” 

“And what else?” asked Sirius, stepping closer now.

You looked to the side “No-nothing else.” 

“Then, my love,” Remus started “I think it’s best if you stay and rest. You said it yourself, just because you don’t feel sick anymore it doesn’t mean you’re not.”

James smiled and placed his hand over your shoulders “There we go sweets, Doctor Moony’s orders. You’re stayin’” 

“What, you mean here?” 

Sirius nodded, and with a wave of his wand both his bed and Remus were next to each other, making a huge one, another wave and there was soft rock playing in the background.

You raised your eyebrows “There we go luv, we can chill and listen to some of your favourite tunes,” he said with a smile “Your mixtape’s on.” 

You still looked at the boy in disbelief, and then you heard a knock on their window. James frowned but approached it either way, an owl was waiting there, with a letter on its beak. James grabbed it and took a treat out of his pocket to feed the owl who hooted merrily before leaving, “It’s for you,” he said, walking towards you again. 

“For me?” You asked confused. 

“Yeah, go ahead, sit on the bed, you can read there more comfortably,” he added and held the letter between his hands as you tried to reach for it “Sit on the bed, I’ll bring it over,” he insisted. 

You rolled your eyes and did as told “May I have my letter now?” 

James nodded and handed it over, you looked at it and a smile grew on your face as you read the envelope “Oh! It’s from my brother!” you said as you unfolded it and started reading its contents. He was wishing you a very happy birthday, telling you how much he loved you but not to let it go to your head, and he also told you to kick Sirius in the balls if he kept trying funny things. 

“What’s with the hate?” the boy said as he read the letter from over your head. You laughed, your brother had been the one to leave you at the station that summer, and he had seen Sirius approach and hug you from behind. But then he’d also seen the boy dig his head into your neck and give you a whiff, long story short, he thought Sirius was weird and that you should stay away from him. Of course, he had no clue Sirius was an animagus, and a dog no less. 

You shrugged “He’s crazy let him be.” 

“I just hope he doesn’t actually kick me on the balls next time we meet.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic Puppy,” you told him as you ruffled his hair, he let his entire head fall over your lap then, looking at you contently. What a twat, you thought looking straight into his eyes and charming smile as you continued playing with his hair. Your brother had also left a couple of galleons on the letter, for you to buy yourself something next time you went to Hogmeade. Which is why you stopped playing with Sirius’ hair and left the letter on the table, the boy complaining just seconds afterwards. 

James and Remus joined the two on the bed eventually and chilled for a while, Remus took out a book and you asked him to read out loud for you to listen, and he did, he was reading Peter Pan, and the story put you in a surprisingly good mood, even if you were in that place between sleep an awake as his soft and yet deep voice gently soothed you to sleep. 

When you woke up the lights were off, you heard a couple of whispers coming from the door and you felt Sirius shift, you wondered how you’d ended up leaning on his chest but then you heard Remus whisper a spell and suddenly a bunch of candles had turned on and he and James were approaching you with the cake on his hands. You smiled, at their silly antics, the three of them started singing Happy Birthday.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear–“ they started. But the three of them said their own pet names to you which is why it turned into a completely uneven choir of “dove”, “Love of my life” and “Kquil”. Which obviously had you giggling. 

“Come on make a wish,” James said once the cake was close enough. 

You stared at him, taking a deep breath and leaning in to blow the candles, closing your eyes as you made your wish, more of this, you thought, more of them.

“Can we turn on the lights?” 

James shook his head “We certainly can’t.” 

“But I want to see the cake!” you said, “Where did you get it?” 

“James made it sweetheart,” Sirius informed “That’s why he doesn’t want you to see it.” 

You smiled at that and fetched your wand from the bed, using it to turn the light on and look at the cake, you smiled, they had used your favourite colour for the cover, and it was lopsided and uneven, with a “Happy Birthday Kquil” written with white on top. That was definitely Sirius’ handwriting, you could tell since it was the neatest part of the cake. You wonder how he could write it if you had been laying on his chest, but perhaps it was one of those mysteries you would never decipher. 

“I love it,” you said honestly, as you dipped your finger in the soft buttercream and threw it in your mouth “Did you put flavouring on it?” 

James smiled and nodded “It was Remus’s idea, to use extract of your favourite fruit.” 

You smiled at the three boys, “Now give it a bite!” Sirius said, still from behind. 

“What?” you asked in disbelief “Aren’t er gonna cut it?” 

“Nah, it’s just for us,” James said “We brought spoons and we’ll eat it straight from the plate.

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“It’s economic,” said Remus “less dishwashing.” 

You gasped “You don’t do the dishwashing, Remus! The elves do.” 

He shrugged “Yeah, less work for them, isn’t that better?” 

You scoffed but smiled, “Fine then, with spoons it is.” 

“But you still have to bite,” James insisted. 

“What for?” You asked him. 

“Cause it’s your birthday,” Sirius responded, “go ahead, give it a bite.” 

You rolled your eyes but finally leaned into the cake, close enough to give it a small bite, and then you felt a hand push your head into the cake, you sprang back out with a gasp completely surprised and feeling a little betrayed by the boys.

“What the hell was that?” 

“A tradition we read about in an old book,” James said with a shrug “They say is for good luck.” 

“Good luck my ass,” you said as you started to wipe the buttercream with your hands, until you an idea popped into your head, with your hands filled with the creamy thing and them looking at you diverted and completely unassuming, you extended your hands towards both Sirius and James’ faces, successfully slathering with the meringue. 

“How dare you?” James gasped with an amused expression. 

“I’m just sharing the luck,” you said with a shrug and a small, innocent-looking smile. 

Sirius was cleaning his face and hair, who’d also been the victim of the buttercream slathering, “Why is it that only me and James that got this mistreatment?” 

You shrugged “Something tells me it was your idea,” you said as you shrugged and grabbed some of the cream from your face and dipped it in your mouth. Remus took his wand, and with a short spell vanished all the cream from your faces. 

“Can we eat now?” he asked with a smile, handing everyone their own spoon. The cake might have been a little lacking on the decoration part, but the taste was so on point you asked James three times if he really had baked it himself. 

“He did! I saw him!” Sirius said, “He was carefully measuring the ingredients and all.” 

Maybe it’s the potioneer in him, you thought as you continued enjoying the cake, the rest of the night went on in fits of laughter and singing along to your favourite song, talking with the boys and in general just passing the time with them. It was absolutely lovely, even your sick birthday had been one of your best birthdays. 

Later that week you figured the boys had lied to you and that the “contagion prevention” potion didn’t actually exist. You smacked them playfully but took soup up to their room several times. You still had James’ tie, and the lady from the portrait seemed to always be willing to let you in.

“Go take care of your boys,” she told you one time with the same enigmatic smile as the one on your birthday.

A/N: Hope you like this little thing sweetheart, and I hope it makes you feel better, even if it’s just a lil wee bit. It sucks to be sick on your birthday, but I’m sure you’ll be back up in no time, enjoying time with friends and loved ones, lysm. 

PS. Sorry is there are any spelling mistakes, I really wanted to get this out and ready for you to read and I couldn’t spell check like usually…

[sovereignjojoz]

Syzoth vs human pregnancy

Summary: he’s dealt with zaterran pregnancy so how will he fare with human, it shouldn’t be too difficult, right?

Notes - this is my first time writing for syzoth so I hope it’s okay still getting used to his character!! Also some things could be wrong with the “zaterran” aspects I mostly based it on reptiles because “reptile” lol.

There was a certain human idiom that syzoth had found appreciation for recently, “get a second bite at the cherry”, as luck would have it he had been blessed with a second chance at fatherhood yet contrary to his first partner his second partner was human, leaving a lot of ambiguity surrounding the baby.

Each day that passed his mind was plagued with wether the baby would take more of the human aspects similar to you and his human form or aspects of his zaterran form, or perhaps even a combination of both! Irregardless of how the baby looked he’d still love them with his whole heart, it was just harmless curiosity.

As he had already had experience in catering to his zaterran wife’s need so he was confident he’d be able to cater to your needs during this time, he presumed zaterran and human pregnancy had many similarities.

Immediately he started preparing some of the minor things such as reducing the temperature down to the coldest setting and moving around the furniture for when his young hatched, since that wouldn’t be a long time from the present it was better to get the hassle out of the way now rather than when it’s too late.

The change stuck out like a sore thumb, the cool draft instantly hit your skin causing goosebumps to flare up on your skin while majority of your furniture was seemingly gone.

The sole item that remained in the living room was the couch, which your boyfriend was currently lounging on. You quickly made you way over to him and plopped down on his lap, giving him a small but sweet little kiss.

He used one hand to pull himself back so he was in an upwards position against the chair cushion so you were in a more comfortable position.

You smiled at him and put his hand to rest on your stomach, his touch was extremely calming.

“You changed some things around in here?” You asked snuggling up to his muscular form.

He stroked your slightly protruding stomach, “yes, I thought it was a necessity to make things easier as the babies will be here soon.”

You supposed he was right, time would move rather quickly so it would be better to be prepared.

“I suppose so, but soon is rather early don’t you think?” You questioned.

He raised a brow at you, innocently intrigued, “whatever do you mean my love? There is merely twenty days left before our babies are born, I’d even go as far as saying we were almost pushing it.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “syz, what do you mean there’s only twenty days left? I’m only like 9 weeks along?”

He nodded, “exactly, that is almost full term, correct?”

You opened your mouth to speak before closing it once more, thinking on his customs. “No…?” You said tentatively, “a human pregnancy lasts 9 months syzoth.”

His viridescent eyes widened as curiosity painted his face, “oh really? How interesting.”

“How long do Zaterran pregnancies last?”

“The babies are usually born after sixty days, it is honestly not a long process which is why learning of this lengthy time has left me speechless.” He rubbed his short hair as he thought about the complexity that came with humanity.

You squished his cheek, “wow, that’s amazing but can I ask you something?”

“Of course my sweetheart.”

You continue stroking the soft flesh of his cheek, “why do you keep saying babies, plural, instead of baby?”

He kissed the inside of your palm, “because it is natural? It is common to have up to 10 kids at once within my species, that’s why the furniture was moved so there will be space for the babies are born.”

Your jaw hung agape, “t-ten?” You cleared your throat, “Zaterran woman are strong, however I think we’re only having one child.”

“No I assure you that we are having more than one child.” He ruffled your hair and smiled as if he was bemused by your naivety.

You arched your brow, “well how many do you think?”

“Perhaps three, or four, or maybe even five-” before he could even finish his sentence your hand was on his mouth preventing him from speaking, five kids wasn’t something you wanted spoken into existence.

“On that note, I’m going to bed.” Syzoth nodded and released your hand so you could get up from his embrace, “are you coming?”

His soft lips placed a tender kiss on your own while you lingered at the doorway waiting for his answer, “I will be in bed shortly.”

You nodded then went to tuck yourself in.

But even though four hours had passed, there was still something missing…something besides you to be specific. And why was it so cold.

Quickly, you grabbed the fluffy pink blanket that laid atop of the bed and wrapped it tightly around your shivering frame. Normally you wouldn’t have to worry about such things as even though he was cold blooded syzoth provided an abnormal amount of warmth yet when you reached beside you for him all you felt was the untouched side of where he usually lay.

You shuffled out the bedroom with a small nightlight in your hand in sought of where your boyfriend could possibly be.

“Syz?” You peered from around the corner into the nursery, shivering with each step you took.

The taller male groggily rose up from the small confines of a plush stool he’d tucked himself onto.

“[name]?”

Honestly you had so much to say yet nothing at all at the same time, “I- what are you doing in that,” you made a gesture with your hands “tiny space, and why is it so cold?”

Syzoth rubbed his hands into his eyes, groaning a little as he stretched his lithe limbs. “I thought you would feel more comfortable.”

You walked over to him and grabbed his calloused hand, attempting to drag him back to bed however he broke your hold before you could even take two steps further.

He knew by the quizzical look on your face you were slightly confused about his actions, “I understand you might miss my presence, I miss yours tenfold, but it is probably for the best that we sleep separately.”

“Why though, it’s cold?”

He seemed hesitant to answer, “well isn’t it common knowledge that pregnancy makes people aggressive, my zetattan wife tried to kill me when she was pregnant with our son so I thought this would be easier? And my mother always used to tell me that coolness is good for a strong baby and the mother? Have I presumed wrong?”

You giggled and cupped his cheeks, “you’re so cute and thoughtful y’know but I want you in the bed.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “maybe sometimes I’ll have mood swings but I’m not going to eat you.” You glanced him once over, “well unless…”

He chuckled at that and pinched your cheek lightly, “let’s just go back to bed, I now understand zetarran customs are different from earth realm, but there’s plenty of time for me to learn.”

“Exactly.”

He extended his hand out for you to grasp, “wait actually now it’s been mentioned I am kinda hungry.”

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Yeah!! I’d especially love to try a bowl of those insects you eat with milk and cookies right now. Ooo! Like some sort of sprinkled garnish!”

Nevermind, perhaps he’d never understand the complex ways of earth realm.

[tenderfxck]

al haitham would be such a sore loser.

he picks and chooses so carefully what battles he takes on to assure his victory.

until little unassuming you waltzes up to him one night in the bar, challenging him to a drinking game. the prize? whatever the victor wants to be fulfilled by the loser.

what’s the risk? he’s larger than you so al haitham knows he can process the liquor more efficiently than you can. he drinks wine often enough so he knows that he has some tolerance at least. it’s logical, is it not?

cut to him, face flushed, head slumped against the table top, head swimming from the alcohol rushing straight to his head and other parts of his body he’d rather not admit. he inhales deeply, picking the scent of your cologne out from the deep odor of alcohol pervading his senses. he leans closer, sensing the warmth of you so near to him.

"mr. scribe, you never answered my question."

oh archons. you were prattling on about art or composition or some inane thing you always talk too long about. how could he focus on your words when the lips they come from could be put to a better use?

you sensed his drunken mind had wandered from the conversation, so you decided to steer it back to your little competition.

“another round?” you asked clutching another shot glass, rosy-cheeked and smiling wide. you suspected this self-proclaimed “feeble scholar” couldn’t take another drop.

he groans. it’s not a yes or a no, but it’s definitely a sound of resignation.

“good effort.” you coo, pressing the bottle to your lips, emptying the last of its contents in one swift motion. “but i believe i win, mr. scribe.”

“fine.” he hiccups, barely able to piece together the words. “i-i secede.” he lifts his head, green eyes finally focusing on your face across the intimate table you had found yourselves at.

his gaze met with a look on your face he couldn’t quite place. Determined with dark eyes.

“i demand my winnings then.”

“archons. . .” he groans. what will it be? a ticket into the akademy’s private library? buying you drinks for the month? him to be your personal butler for the day?

“come with me.” you whisper, grasping him by the hand.

he follows with surprisingly little fuss until he ends up in a dim, secluded corner of the bar, somehow seated in a chair and looking up at you.

he had half a mind to question what inane scheme you were plotting until he suddenly felt you mount his lap, catching his lips in a deep kiss before he could make a noise of surprise.

archons. he swears that even the liquor on your tongue, can’t overpower the overwhelming taste of you.

it’s quick, it’s needy, it’s lewd the way your tongue swipes along his lips, soft thighs straddling his while your body moves so provocatively against him. he breaks the kiss moments later, puffing for air as he feels your hips shifting so purposefully against his.

fuck. he’s dreamed about something exactly like this before. finally having you sat on his lap, all to himself, grinding so sweetly against his now aching erection. you’d look so pretty out of those clothes, bouncing on his lap, cumming on his cock.

the parting of your lips didn’t last long before you found another expanse of skin to entertain yourself with. you dipped your head, laying a few kisses along the column of his throat as your fingers deftly peeled his collar from his neck. his adam’s apple bobbed in anticipation, breath ragged before catching all together. a surprised moan escaped him as you finally latched on to his neck, sucking a pretty little hickey onto the canvas of his pale skin.

his mind moved too quick, and the reactions from his body weren’t too far behind. he was trembling beneath you, pitifully bucking his hips up to meet yours. his hands which previously remained white knuckled to the side of seat finally moved, reaching up to cup your plush ass and give it a healthy squeeze.

“m-more. . .” is the only word he could form, a small trail of drool sliding from his panting mouth down his chin.

“oh, haitham, poor thing.”

you suddenly remove yourself, al haitham groaning as you stand, sent absolutely reeling from the loss of you.

“we can finish this little encounter somewhere a little more secluded tomorrow evening. I’ll cash out my prize in full.”

he sits disheveled in that chair, cock pressing hard against his pants, dumbly watching as you turn heel, pay your tab, and walk right out into the cool night.

. . .

after regaining enough composure to stand, al haitham returns home in a huff, not even acknowledging his roommate’s greeting before he locks himself in his room. he roughly shucks off his shirt and shoes before falling onto his bed, palming at the tent in his boxers that has been plaguing him since he got the hell out of that bar.

al haitham lets out a heaving sigh, dragging his pants and sash from his waist, indulging himself in desires a more sober version of himself would be too proud and oblivious to yield to in a bout of burning desire.

[new-revenant]

A so Called Tamaranean | Part Two

So, people seem to really like this little story I made, so I guess I’ll continue it! Part 1 if you haven’t read it yet or forgot something from it :) Also I am going to put both parts onto Ao3 in like, a day or two.

Edit : Ao3 Link! Also unsure if I’ll continue this because I don’t want to stress out over it. This was partly inspired by the “Grudge Match” ep from the JLU cartoon(go watch it it’s so good). Don’t ask what continuity this whole fic is set in, because I am making it up as I go. Warning for mentions of blood, I think there’s slight dehumanization, and mild elements of horror. There’s a fight scene. You know, regular superhero stuff.

Tag list since people wanted to be tagged(there are many of you ๑╹ω╹๑):

@spectralstardustandphantomnights - @skulld3mort-1fan - @ballzfrog - @toomanyfandoms11 - @blueflipflops - @everest-nightshade - @terzatheunderscorerima - @thegatorsgoose - @mnemovoid - @ace-aro-as-shit - @pikakaistudios - @phoenixcatch7 - @alice-hazelwood - @idfk-man20 (I can’t tag this person for some reason???) - @keimiwolf - @cankoking - @dxrksong - @learning-to-fly-on-my-own - @chaoticmistake - @ectoplasm024 - @akikkobara - @nerdypaintbrush - @worthlesswall - @stargirl1331 - @treepainting - @that-awkward-fae-nerd - @kawaiikenna - @raspberry-muffin

♥︎♡♥︎

“Alright kid, this is one of my safe houses,” Nightwing said, “We’re going to stay here for a while until I figure out what to do,” they muttered the last part. They both were in a small apartment in an abandoned building. It was stocked with some med kits and rations, with a mattress tucked into a corner. There was a single window that they used to get inside, facing another building.

“Small house,” Danny commented, trying to hide his smirk.

“Yeah it’s supposed to be small-now I need to call Starfire for the first time in a few months,” Nightwing groaned, “Man I’ve been busy.”

Danny sat on the mattress while Nightwing out a phone to call this “Starfire” person. Danny was sweating bullets, because surely she would notice that Danny is definitely not a Tamaranean. Maybe he should just come out and say what he really is…Nah.

He hasn’t even told his own parents that he’s actually…whatever he is, so he certainly isn’t going to be telling this stranger who he is. Maybe once he can find out how to get back home he’ll tell them. He’ll just have to keep his secret to himself, which shouldn’t be toohard. And Danny’s stuck in his ghost form now, for some reason. But that means that it’ll be easier to pretend to a Tamaranean! And he could just say he wasn’t raised wherever Tamaraneans were from, and was experimented on by the people who raised him. Not too bad of an idea from a C-student.

Danny was humming happily as he came up with his plan. He had to ignore what Nightwing was saying because he was pretty sure Tamaraneans weren’t supposed to know English. Honestly he was sure of nothing and probably should’ve eavesdropped on Nightwing. But once he thought of that idea, Nightwing finished their phone call.

“Okay Nightgale, Starfire’s going to be here soon, and you need to eat don’t you-of course you need to eat, what am I talking about?” Nightwing sighed, “Do you have any preferences? Like, sweet or sour foods since you probably don’t know any Earth foods.”

“I will eat anything and everything you give me,” Danny responded, “I have no preferences other than survival.”

“That’s…so sad oh my god. I wish I could give you like, a honey crisp apple or something other than granola bars and military rations.”

“Food is food I guess. Oh, do you have any water my throat’s kind of sore.”

“On it,” Nightwing went and grabbed a couple of granola bars and a bottle of water and nearly tossed it over to Danny before stopping and just handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Danny said as he smiled innocently, before wolfing down the granola bars and chugging down all of the water in less than a minute. Nightwing could only watch in horror as when they tried to make Danny slow down, he tried to bite them.

“So,” Danny made direct eye contact with Nightwing after he finished eating “What’s Starfire like?” He was oddly proud of himself for this rather simple question.

“Oh! Well, she’s the Princess of Tamaran and-“ Nightwing was stopped by a sudden knock at the door. They froze and swiftly went over to the door.

“It’s me! Starfire!” a muffled voice said from behind the door. Nightwing let out a visible but silent sigh of relief before they opened the door.

“Starfire, you got here quickly,” Nightwing commented.

“Of course! There’s a baby Tamaranean here who needs help! Plus, I was nearby already,” Starfire floated a few inches off the ground as she went inside the tiny apartment.  Nightwing pointed her over to where Danny was, and she gasped happily with a gleeful shine in her eyes. Danny tried his best to hide his grimace and prepare for whatever was going to happen.

“Hello! Hi there!” Starfire shot over to Danny-which he thankfully expected to happen this time-speaking Tamaranean. Starfire had long, red, fire-like hair, flickering at the ends like a flame. Her skin was an unnatural shade of a bronze-like orange-but it was probably very natural for Tamaraneans. She was also wearing this odd, purple jumpsuit-looking outfit. Not only were her irises were green, but her sclera had a green tint to it. Danny could swear that she was glowing slightly.

“Can you not do any sudden movements Princess?” Danny said, fully grimacing, “Or get too close.”

“Oh! Sorry young one,” Starfire backed a few away from Danny a smile plastered on her face, “What’s your name?”

“I assume that Nightwing already told you but I’m uh, Nightgale. It’s…nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too Nightgale! I’m Princess Starfire of Tameran, but you may just call me Star or Starfire.”

Starfire went over to Nightwing and spoke to them in English. Danny thought this would finally be a good time to eavesdrop.

“He doesn’t know any Earth languages right?” Starfire asked.

“Nope and he seems far too touch-adverse to do…that language acquisition thing,” Nightwing answered, sighing and rubbing their temples, “He’ll shoot anyone who so much as attempts to even reach out a hand to him-I should know, because that’s what happened to me.”

“Oh no! Are you okay?”

 “Yeah I just got shot in the face but it only hurt for a moment-actually, it hurt Nightgalemore, his powers seem…unstable.”

“Unstable?”

“His arm was in a lot of pain both times he shot a starbolt at me, so I’m pretty sure his powers are at least somewhat unstable. God how-what are we going to do-WHERE did he even come from?”

“He could’ve come from anywhere I think-but! I think we might need to get him some sort therapy for the touch-adversity. So it’s a good thing that it is just physical touch in general that makes it so we can learn other’s languages, so he could just poke someone and boom! He learns English!” -Starfire spun around a little bit- “I…also think we might need to get the Justice League involved.”

“Yeah, we probably do,” Nightwing leaned up against a wall, probably pondering about what to do next. Danny was also wondering about what to do next. He could probably just punch someone in the face and pass that off as a language-acquisition thing. He looked out the window and right at that moment, a green bird landed on the windowsill.

Danny made direct eye contact with the bird. Its eyes were the normal black void of sparrow’s eyes, but the entire bird was green. It wasn’t glowing so it probably wasn’t a ghost.

“Oh hey! So you’re that Tamaranean-“ the bird said, it spoke, and Danny blasted it on pure instinct, obviously. He screamed, it screamed, but it swiftly dodged and flew inside. Its body shifted and grew, turning into a human-a green skinned human with dark green hair, but human nonetheless.

“WOAH! Never seen a talking bird before?” The green person chuckled.

“Beast Boy, are you okay?” Starfire asked.

“Yeah, but that kid seems jumpy.”

“Of course he’s jumpy, he just fell from the sky not even an hour ago,” Nightwing sighed, “Also why are you here Garfield?”

“Oh, she texted the whole group chat about the little Tamaranean here, didn’t you see it?” Beast Boy-Garfield was probably their real name but Danny could only think about a certain orange cat-pointed over to Starfire.

“Kori why?” Nightwing groaned, “So do just the rest of the Titans know?”

“Yes it’s just the rest of Titans, I’m sorry I was just so excited!” Starfire apologized, “He’s a fellow Tamaranean with powers nonetheless!”

They continued to argue and Danny knew that this was his chance. He had to get out of here. He’ll come back obviously, but he really didn’t want to keep looking at people’s mouth to figure out if they were speaking English or not.

He stood up and placed his hand on the windowsill, looking back for a moment before jumping up and bolting out of of there.

He turned quickly, just barely scraping his arm against the other building. He focused on just going faster and faster, constantly taking wild turns and changing his altitude.

He kept going and going, ignoring everything else, and he felt like he was reaching his limit in no time at all. He shoot high into the sky, spotting docks nearby. Shooting back back down like a lightning bolt, he almost slammed into the ground nearby. He didn’t make a noise or dented the concrete, so it was a win in Danny’s book.

The docks seem unused and abandoned, but oddly enough the warehouses didn’t. There was one warehouse that was bigger than the others, and it had a clearly visible side door on it. Danny looked around both at the sky and the docks. The skies were clear, but he could definitely hear something coming from that big warehouse.

Danny looked at his hands. Yeah, there might be some criminals in here. If not? Well then he’ll just give some poor folks a handshake or something. Taking his gloves off and tying them onto his belt, he noticed his veins were glowing a bright green. Danny did not know if they always were like that, but it was probably for the best to not use his powers, which was completely fine as he could still throw a mean punch.

Walking up towards the door, he had to take a deep, deep breath. What was he doing? Why was he pretending? Why does he always have to be constantly lying? He could go back now, tell them all the truth before things get more and more out of hand.

‘But it’s too late,’ he kept repeating to himself. The same thing he had always repeated to himself whenever he thought about telling his own parents who-what he was.

He gripped the handle of the door, already able to hear fighting coming from the inside. It didn’t fully sound like normal humans fighting, but a bit like ghost fighting. Shooting, burning, the ground being ripped apart and crushed. People with superpowers exist in this world, Danny could see that much from what he’s noticed so far. He felt like he was definitely not ready to fight anyone who can punch as hard as Shulker per say, but he was already here. He had to do something.

Danny looked around for those heroes who helped him out. Seeing no one around, he took in another a deep breath, and opened that side door.

♦︎

Nightwing really did expect the kid to run off at some point. He just did not expect the kid to just be gone after he looked away for a single second. Just one second, he just wanted to talk with Kori and Garfield, but no, now he has to search for a glowing, physically andprobably mentally unstable Tamaranean child. If it was only as easy as it sounded because Nightgale was gone gone. Which meant that everyone was freaking out, obviously.

“Starfire! Do you see anything?” Nightwing called out from a rooftop nearby the safe house. Starfire was high in the sky so she could probably see a glowing person much more easily, and she shouted out ‘NO!’ which did wonders to Nightwing’s sprit.

“Beast Boy, how about you?” Beast Boy swooped down as an eagle and shook his head no. Nightwing sighed, “Well, we’ll need to split up then. Beast Boy you go west, I’ll go north, Starfire will go-“

“Nightwing,” Oracle’s voice had suddenly spoken from Nightwing’s earpiece, interrupting him. He put his hand on his earpiece to answer.

“What’s going on Oracle?” Nightwing responded instantly.

“An illegal meta fighting ring has been reported coming from the abandoned commercial docks in Blüdhaven. Do you think you can check up on it?”

“If I had a nickel for every time a meta fighting ring has happened here-yeah I’ll deal with it quickly.”

“Even with the Tamaranean child?” Batman’s voice interjected.

Nightwing’s face dropped. Of course Batman knows about Nightgale, he’s Batman. God damn it.

“Yep, even with them.”

“Their name?”

“They said their name was Nightgale. Now, I’ll get back to you later goodbye!” Nightwing took his hand away from the eyepiece and groaned.

“So we have to deal with a meta fighting ring as well?” Beast Boy asked, “Oh wait! What if the kid got caught up in the fighting ring?”

“Nightgale got caught up in a fighting ring?!” Starfire had come down and was very concerned.

“No-well,” Nightwing thought of how likely it was that Nightgale could actually get caught up in a fighting ring, “There could be a chance-“

“We have to go! Where is the fighting ring?” Starfire eyes were filled with determination.

“Yeah! Let’s save those metas AND that Tamaranean kid who’s name I can’t remember. Sorry,” Beast Boy nervously chuckled a bit during that last part.

“It’s Nightgale,” Nightwing repeated. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more strange it was that the kid’s name was Nightgale. It was pretty close to Nightwing, and there was also the problem of accidentally mixing the two names up. Maybe he should call them Gale, or Night Jr. Damnit, he was turning into Bruce wasn’t he?

Nightwing shook off that thought process, focusing on the matter at hand, “Now, let’s go to the docks!”

“Yeah!” The other two exclaimed. They all bolted towards the docks, towards Nightgale.

It didn’t take too long to get over to the docks, especially since Nightwing knew the way there by heart and the other two could fly. The trio still looked around for Nightgale on the way there, but had no luck with that. Nightwing really hoped that Nightgale wouldn’t be at the docks. He felt like there was a good chance that they would’ve gotten hurt, or worse.

Once the trio did get to docks, they saw the biggest warehouse had a giant hole in its side. People were running away from it, screaming and tripping over themselves.

As the heroes got over to them, they noticed just how scared the people acted. “P-please take us in, we’ll go to jail, just get us away from here!” One of them shouted. All of them were heavily bruised and bleeding lightly, large, but very shallow claw marks across either their chests. 

“So this the illegal meta fighting ring I’ve been hearing about,” Nightwing muttered, “Alright, I’ll cuff these guys real quick, get them to the hospital, and then we’ll-“

“Please get us away from here first! That-that monster in there will-“

“Oh! That might be Nightgale right?” Starfire asked.

“Yeah! They seem strong enough,” Beast Boy added.

“Let’s check it out. You criminals stay here or I’ll get that ‘monster’ to hunt you down.” The threat seemed to be very effective against them, which was very worrying, but right now Nightwing needed to focus at the situation at hand-someone dangerous was inside that warehouse with the metas, and that someone could very well be Nightgale.

As they rushed towards the hole, Starfire caught a criminal being thrown out of it. The criminal also had a large, shallow claw mark across their chest. She placed them down and told them to stay with the other criminals, and they ecstatically did as told. The trio were finally at the hole.

Nightwing now believed the criminals when they said there was a monster here.

He couldn’t focus on anything other than-that thing standing in the center of the warehouse. It was a shadow, fickle and dark, glowing green-bleeding green out of its hands and eyes. Eyes that stared right at him, right into his very soul.

It was pulsating with light, unsteady and bright, drawing Nightwing’s mind to nuclear waste. It’s body seemed to flicker in and out of existence as fast as a blink of an eye, small, almost invisible sparks of electricity jetting out of it.

Its hands looked sharp, fingernails indistinguishable from flesh. They were stained red, blood dripping towards the ground. Blood was splattered at its feet and the ground around it. But he couldn’t see any blood on the rest of it’s shadowy body.

This was it, this was how Nightwing was going to die. He couldn’t move couldn’t think about anything else other than the horrors that awaited him. It was all going to be over and he couldn’t even help that one kid-

“Nightgale!” Starfire exclaimed and flew inside. Suddenly, Nightwing was snapped out of his trance, and the monster disappeared, leaving a tired and trembling Nightgale behind.

Nightwing looked over at Beast Boy, and it was clear that he saw the same thing as Nightwing. Beast Boy looked at him for an answer, but all he could do was shrug slightly. Whatever affected him and Beast Boy didn’t affect Starfire, so he could easily pass this off as some Tamaranean thing, but something in the back of his mind said that he shouldn’t.

Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right about Nightgale.

But he’ll think about that more later. Right now, Nightgale and the metas needed help.

“Beast Boy, you look after the metas, I’ll deal with the rest of the criminals,” Nightwing said and then immediately sprang into action.

“R-right!” Beast Boy responded and followed suit.

Nightgale had taken care of most of the criminals involved, but the ringmaster, Roulette, had nearly escaped. 

“Roulette! I see that you haven’t changed at all,” Nightwing commented when he caught up to her. He could see that her left arm was bleeding, baring the same shallow claw marks as the other criminals had. “This is what, the second time you’ve set up a meta fighting ring in Blüdhaven? Why’s that?”

“I didn’t expect to get caught so quickly I’ll tell you that much,” she replied, “Much less did I expect to get caught by your son.”

“Okay, Nightgale isn’t my-“ Roulette took this opportunity to kick Nightwing square in the face. In retaliation, Nightwing grabbed her foot and flipped her over, and the fight commenced.

Back in the warehouse, Starfire was checking Nightgale for any injuries. And he had a lot of injuries. No cuts but a lot of bruises had formed already.

“We have to get you to the Watchtower right away-it’s basically the Justice League’s base and they’ll have everything we’ll need to fix you up okay?” Starfire told Nightgale. Only after she finished talking did she realize that she was speaking in English, so she readied herself for having to repeat that whole thing again.

“I’m okay,” Nightgale muttered, back in English.

Starfire gasped, “Did you learn English while punching all those criminals?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s why I took my gloves off, I’m sorry if I wasn’t-“

“No no! It’s okay, it great actually, because now you can communicate easier with everyone else! Good job Nightgale,” Starfire smiled at them and they shyly smiled back.

“Thank you,” Nightgale muttered, “Do we help those people now?”

“I got it!” Beast boy shouted. He had rounded up all the metas and there were a concerning amount of them.

“There’s at least 9 people here,” Nightgale commented, “Or more. I’m not good with counting.”

“That’s okay Nightgale,” Starfire lightly patted Nightgale’s shoulder, and they didn’t even flinch! Which was great, progress was being in one way or another. “Now, how about we check up on Nightwing hm?” Nightgale nodded, and Starfire quickly checked up on the metas before bringing Nightgale with her outside.

Nightwing and Roulette noticed the two immediately, and Roulette’s eye widened in horror.

“That kid-“ Roulette started, before becoming yet another person who got cut off by Nightgale shooting at them. She dodged but Nightwing was quick to knock her unconscious with his Escrima sticks. Nightwing cuffed her while Starfire helped out Nightgale, who was currently doubled over in pain.

“Are you okay Nightgale?” Starfire asked.

“I want and feel like death, but other than that I’m fine,” Nightgale groaned, “At least this blood isn’t mine.”

“Yeah you need to go get help right now,“ Nightwing commented, facing towards the warehouse, “First we just need to take care of metas, the criminals-this criminal, in particular, and then-“ Nightwing suddenly whipped his head around and faced Nightgale, “-did you just speak English???”

“Yeah I punched a bunch of people. No big deal. What’s that shadowy figure over there?” Nightgale pointed over towards their left, and Nightwing immediately knew who it was.

“If I look over and I see it’s Batman I will not be surprised,” Nightwing sighed. He turned around and did not see Batman, so clearly he needed to spin back around and there he was, Batman. 

“I’ve notified the League about the Tamaranean child,” Batman had began, quickly getting to the point, “You and Starfire can take him to the Watchtower with the Zeta-Tubes and preform a check-up before any questioning.”

“Doesn’t the Zeta-Tubes only work for registered members?” Starfire asked.

“And what about the bad guys?” Nightgale added. He was looking at Batman with a sense of awe, for some reason.

“Beast Boy and I will take care of it. I was able to collect a DNA sample from the initial crash site and registered Nightgale as a guest,” Everyone noticed how Nightgale very visibly flinched once Batman talked about collect a DNA sample.

Nightwing gently patted Nightgale’s shoulder, and they looked up at him with their tired, scared eyes. Nightwing gave them a little smile, “It’s going to be okay Nightgale.” But Nightgale’s expression stayed the same as the trio made their way towards the nearest Zeta-Tube.

It was going to be fine, Nightwing was sure of it. Yeah, something bad might happen because life, but Nightgale would be okay soon enough. But Nightwing could only think about what he saw before he entered the warehouse. Was Nightgale really a Tamaranean? Starfire wasn’t effected by whatever he and Beast Boy saw, and they were both human.

Nightgale wasn’t a human, that’s for sure. But what if was a human, a meta more likely. But then why did he fall from the sky? A portal could’ve opened-actually, a portal would’ve been the only way they could’ve came here, since they definitely don’t seem to have the energy to fly all the way to Earth from…wherever they were from.

So what was Nightgale? Who was Nightgale?

Nightwing didn’t know what was the truth yet, but it wouldn’t be long until he found out. He was sure of it. But for now, he just wanted to make sure Night Jr. was safe.

[edutainer2022]

So I got under the weather - fever, sore throat, snuffles, the works. But I am "busy" (tm) and, therefore, need to be "fine" (tm). So I'm indulgently reposting a little fluffy Tracy-fever piece I wrote out this summer. I may or may not be eyeing another fever-snippet in my notes. Depends on how "fine" (tm) I am. Please, enjoy!

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often.

He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there  was no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but it appeared he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stopped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful moan escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better and a soft stroke. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

The sight that greeted him upon return to the bedroom tugged the corners of his lips up despite himself. Seeing his sons sick or hurting in any way brought him no joy, but the picture was just too precious and hilarious at the same time. John had shifted upside down, somehow, so Virgil was now cuddling his brother's feet. John was also curled in an upside down ball, head resting on Scott's stomach. Scott, in an attempt to cool off, cast his long, long limbs every which way, including over Virgil's lap and head, in a comical replication of the Vitruvian Man. As Jeff stepped in, though, the eldest shifted again, to curl himself around John protectively and to draw Virgil into a side hug. Jeff needed to go ahead with the med scanners and to get the boys awake long enough to make sure they got a drink of electrolytes and some saltines, but first he paused to reach for his comm watch and snap a picture of the puppy basket. He would cherish the moment while it lasted. And he could always use it as blackmail backup against these three running themselves to the ground - under the threat of the photo being leaked to the Tinies.

[izvmimi]

cw: unrequited love. angst.

it's only when he coughs suddenly that you're acutely aware that this is the first time you've been alone in the same room for months. you remain quiet, although the silence is so heavy you feel as though your bones will creak under the pressure. but you can breathe, which is enough. you can breathe easy, a sort of relief.

you don't know why you came here today. perhaps out of habit, perhaps because that is what friends do, although you're not sure you're truly friends still but rather traipsing in that awkward space between would-be lovers and sudden strangers. you've tried to lead the way, even tried to force his hand into a timeline where you are together and in love, but the truth is he won't go.

and it's no surprise why.

you're still leaning by the small sink, avoiding his gaze now, but you've run out of messages to answer in your texts, and you've run out of notifications to clear. your heart pounds in your chest. there is an elephant in the room. it's you. you are the unexpected person. you are the intrusion.

you turn to face him.

he's not smiling, but you shouldn't expect that of him. not after your conversation last night, and just like many times before, he's injured. you could help him with his wounds, you help often, but you're off-duty and doctors don't like it when you interfere. the most you can offer is pain relief, but something tells you not to try to touch him. he's not yours to care for.

he looks tired, weary even. you should probably leave and let him rest instead of being an eyesore.

"when was the last time you had meds?" you say. your voice is businesslike, you've overshot in your attempt to mask your hurt.

he looks at the clock above you. "an hour and a half ago."

"pain out of ten?"

now you're treating him like your patients.

"i don't know," he answers. his voice falters by the end of the sentence. you can feel your feet push towards him but you stand in place. you know he just doesn't want you to worry.

you sigh.

"izuku, should i leave?"

he blinks, but he says nothing. his arms are bandaged and casted, otherwise you wonder if he'd fidget with his hands.

nothing is as clear of an answer as yes, however.

heat rushes to your face, then cools quickly. this is embarrassing. just accept your place, you think. you are second. he likes you. he does not love you. that is not a crime.

you grip your phone tightly.

"i'll take my leave," you offer.

there is no protest, just like there is no contest. not when it's you versus him. in fact, he probably wishes you were not the one in here with him today, rather his precious Kacchan. bile would rise in your throat if you had any left.

you move to leave and as you open the door, you hear him call your name.

"___..."

your heart thumps again, and the small, petty part of you wants to ignore him and let the door slam. but you are not a sore loser, and don't want to be one.

"yes, izuku?"

"i'm sorry," he croaks out.

a sound that's more derisive than it's meant to be comes from your throat. it's not a laugh, it's not a scoff, you're not sure what it's meant to be. frustration maybe? you're not sure.

"you're allowed to be in love."

even if it's not with me.

"i..." he trails off, then looks down in his lap, covered in too many bedsheets. the ones you've just adjusted for him. he's thankful for everything you do. it's not enough. you still have to earn love and affection, but he would have still have izuku's devotion even if he scorned him for the rest of his life.

and perhaps you are happy for him in that sense. to be so in love with another that anything you ever say or do will fall on deaf ears. perhaps one day you will get that kind of devotion. perhaps one day, in some other universe where katsuki doesn't exist, or you meet him first, you won't disappear in a crowd of people he is meant to save no matter how loudly you say his name.

you sigh and you are about to forgive him, because that's what he needs right now, even if you'd rather lick hot coals. but you can see a name flash across your screen.

his beloved.

where's deku's room? asshole's not picking up.

your fingers tighten in your palm, and you let out an exhale.

409B

you click send and leave. you do not storm out because that tempest of emotions has settled by now. what you dream of he cannot give you. you are a good friend. you will be happy for him. for them.

[eebydeebyderby]

I Missed You

A one-shot in which Egon struggles to express his feelings after Reader returns from a month-long absence.

Based on this request sent in by @saltedtoast about 49 years ago.

General info:

Egon x fem!Reader, fluff, confessions, no content warnings

~3.1k words

The lab had never known loneliness until it felt your absence. 

Egon peers into his microscope, adjusting the focus on a newly prepared slide of Xylaria polymorpha he recently cultivated. This was a particularly hard specimen for him to raise in captivity, and he feels a sense of pride that it was doing quite well under his care. He tries to focus completely on his work, but a sense of emptiness tugs on the back of his mind, threatening to once again disrupt his work flow. It’s an internal struggle he’s been wrestling with for a month now. He'd grown accustomed to the solitude of the lab for the first few years before your hire, and he was quite content with just his own company. In all honesty, he initially found the idea of sharing his lab with someone full-time quite disdainful. He was distant, almost cold for the first few weeks as you settled in, but he quickly became used to your company, even looking forward to seeing you in the mornings. 

He sorely misses you. He's clung to every ghost of your presence during your month's absence, finding your lingering influence in its tasks, its equipment and daily rituals. You’re due to return tomorrow, and he can’t deny the nervous excitement that built up over the past few days. 

Rapid footsteps descend down the stairs, breaking into his thoughts. He groans a bit and scowls, not looking up from his microscope. Every night, Peter barrels into the lab to pester him for the purpose of extorting a candy bar from the sweets’ drawer in exchange for staying away from your things. Tonight more than ever he’s not in the mood for Peter’s antics a second time. The footsteps hit the basement floor and he rises to his feet, still adjusting the focus on his microscope. “Venkman—"

“Egon!”

The sudden sound of your voice nearly makes him jump out of his coat. He turns around just in time for you to fling your arms around him, nearly knocking him off-balance. Your familiar scent floods his nostrils and his mind blanks. For a split-second, he’s absolutely intoxicated. 

“I missed you.” Your grip is so tight that he almost struggles to draw breath, and he finds himself quite flustered. By the time he summons the courage to reciprocate, you pull away. 

You drop your bag at your desk, which Egon had vigilantly kept free of Peter's grabby raccoon hands. "It's good to be back in our lab."

Our lab. He preens. “It’s good to have you back.” He clears his throat, hoping the heat on his face isn’t too visible. “You’re a day early.” 

“Yeah, the travel schedule changed a bit.” You rummage through your bag and offer him a chocolate bar—an old favorite of his not found in New York since his undergrad. 

“Oh. Thank you.” He’s pleasantly surprised at the gesture; in his entirety of knowing you, he’s only mentioned it once. He reaches out and grabs the treat, but is met with a sudden resistance when you don’t release it from your grip. 

“What happened?” you ask quietly. He follows your gaze to the burn seared across the back of his hand from last week’s neutrino malfunction, scarred and scabbed, but mostly healed over. 

“It’s nothing,” he says reflexively. 

You raise an eyebrow. Anyone unfamiliar with you would read your expression as credulous, but he knows you come from a place of concern. Still, he’s grateful that you release him and don’t prod further into it. “How’d you manage to keep Peter out of my stuff?” you ask, granting him the mercy of a changed subject. 

“Bribery, threats, extortion, canned cat food laced with children’s Benadryl.” 

You laugh, a familiar sound that fills his chest with a bubbly warmth, something sorely lacking in the lab for the past month. Oh, he missed you terribly. 

And yet, something’s off. 

He ponders for a second. There’s the slightest drop of tone in your voice, an almost undetectable droop of your eyebrows; your limbs are drawn in, your arms wrapped tightly across your middle.

You look sad.

“You look sad,” he blurts, and he immediately regrets it. It was the truth, yes, but he could have worded it much, much more eloquently. Still, Peter was always telling him to speak his mind, to stop overthinking the simple things.

He has trouble reading your face in reaction to his comment, and for a moment he fears he stumbled into offensiveness.

You shrug. “Just a little homesick, I guess. It’s been an intense adjustment, this past year,” you say. He sees the sadness settle back into your gaze, the uncertainty. “I’ve been away from home for so long that things felt a bit weird and off when I went back, but I also feel like I don’t quite belong where I’m at. I missed home for so long, but when I was back there I missed being here. No matter where I’m at, I feel like I left something behind.”

He awkwardly reaches forward and places his hand on your shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you that those feelings will get better or easier, because there’s no guaranteeing the truth in that.” He swallows. “What I can guarantee, however, is that you may openly confide in me anything and I will do my best to offer full support.” He pauses for just a split second to keep the quake in his chest from reaching his voice. “I wish for this to be explicitly known.” 

You smile warmly, melting the icy pit forming in his stomach. “Thank you. Likewise.”

His nerve depletes and he withdraws his hand, failing to notice the disappointment on your face. His mind scrambles a bit for a plausible escape route and quickly settles on, “I believe a hot beverage is in-order.” Before you can reply he stuffs his hands deeply into the pockets of his lab coat and quickly makes his way to the kitchen stairs. He feels your befuddled gaze burning into the back of his neck and he doesn’t dare to turn his head until he knows he’s well out of sight.

The privacy of the kitchen allows his mind to unclog itself of its anxieties, to idly keep his hands busy and get a bit of respite. He sighs as he makes his way to the cupboard, pulling out various ingredients. He wants to pretend that he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but there’s no plausible deniability that he can convince himself of.

Tonight. He’s going to tell you tonight. For the past month he’s been trying to force himself to build up a sort of courage to be ready upon your return, but it crumbled away in an instant with just the sound of your voice. He’s completely disarmed and wants to give it up for another day like he’d done countless times before, spending weeks and weeks building up his nerve only for it to once again disappear when he tried calling upon it.

He absentmindedly shakes his head a bit, as if to shoo away the thoughts. For now, he just chooses to focus on his kitchen activities. 

He’s memorized your nighttime beverage preferences down pat: how hot you like it, how sweet, what consistency, how the time of month and weather off-puts typical preference. He knows several small inclinations of yours, things that he’d never openly admit for fear of coming off as disconcerting. Peter tells him that he never speaks up enough, but will say in the same breath that Egon easily falls into saying far, far too much. He sighs. Human courting rituals, and all that. No matter how many times he consults with Janine or one of the boys, he’s always left horribly befuddled. 

As if on cue, Winston walks into the kitchen with a mug of tea and a newspaper. “Heyo, doctor,” he says pleasantly. 

Winston’s sagacity commands an air of respect without compromising the lax energy that his presence brings about. Already Egon feels some of the tension unwind in his stomach as Winston settles himself at the table. Now more than ever he feels the need for a confidant and Winston, the youngest of the four men, has a level of emotional intelligence that far exceeds that of most anyone Egon knows. He’s also the person in the firehouse who’s known you for years longer than anyone else, even being the original advocate for your hire. 

“YN’s back a day early. Did she go down and say ‘hi’ to you yet?” 

Egon nods. “She’s in the lab.” 

Winston raises an eyebrow. “First thing she said when I asked her about her trip was that she missed you,” he says wryly, swirling the tea in his mug. "So, why are you up here?"

Egon sighs again. If he really wants to seek advice, there’s no point in giving Winston anything other than the truth. “I can’t seem to shake myself from mental paralysis. I’m unsure that my timing is optimal, that I’m not risking her comfort, that we would still function as coworkers in the event that the approach is negatively received. I’m not even sure what parts of our correspondence have dissolved in her absence and which ones were preserved.” 

“I getcha.” Winston takes a drink of tea, giving himself a moment to formulate his thoughts. "Sounds to me like you're stuck between wanting things to go back to the safe old dynamic, but also wanting to change it to something more romantically inclined. Being apart for so many weeks created a sort of split limbo in your relationship, and now it’s up to you to reestablish what sort of dynamic you want to pursue. Choosing to pursue one has a very real chance of dooming the possibility of later pursuing the other. This is a risk of any courtship. You’re never gonna be sure about any of it.”

“I’m just…uncertain about how to go about it. Every time I formulate a dialogue in my head, it dissolves the second I call upon it.”

“Mm.” Winston sets down his tea. “I know you love your disquisitions, doc, but you’re just making it hard on yourself. Two simple rules are all you need: Be honest. Keep it simple. Easy.”

Egon scoffs, pouring two mugs of steaming cocoa. Easy, he says.

Peter trots up the stairs. “Spengler?” His voice carries an edge of irritation. “What the hell are you doing up here?”

“He’s just grabbing a little treat for himself and YN,” Winston says as he scribbles in the newspaper’s crosswords. 

“Oh, good. I thought he was up here hiding because he choked trying to get himself to talk to her again,” Peter says flatly. 

Egon ignores his comment and averts his gaze as he gathers up his mugs and begins to depart. 

“Hey, wait.” Peter firmly plants his hand on Egon’s shoulder, halting him. “Believe me, Egon. You know we wouldn’t jerk you around with something like this. She’s really got something for you. She has for a while now. God only knows why. Now," He rips the newspaper from Winston's hands and smacks Egon over the head with it. "Get going!”

"Ah!" Egon instinctively moves to flinch, but stops with the weight of the mugs in his hands. "Venkman! I'm holding hot drinks!"

Peter smacks him again and again, knocking his glasses askew. "Go! Git! Git!" he shouts, corralling Egon towards the staircase. "It’s now or never, Spengler!” Peter calls out as Egon descends the stairs. “Now or never!” 

He’s thankful that two sets of stairs separate the basement from the kitchen, making it nearly impossible for you to hear Peter’s shouts. You’re peering into his microscope when he returns to the lab. “Xylaria polymorpha,” you say as he approaches you. “Said to spawn in spots where the Welsh gwyllgi takes rest beneath forest trees.” You rise to your feet and take the mug he offers you. “Thanks, Spengs.” You take a sip and savor the rich flavor as it spreads across your tongue, warming your entire being. "Nobody makes it the way you do.”

He takes a sip of his own drink. It’s alright. Stock flavor composition from a standardized corporate formula meant to chemically stimulate basal taste receptors. He only modified it very slightly with a few pinches of additional ingredients. “It’s nothing special,” he says. 

“It is when you make it.”

Heat rises to his face. 

“Hey, I know it’s late,” you say, “but do you want to go up to the balcony? Get some air? I want to see the city lights again.”

The winter air is bitingly cold as he steps onto the roof behind you and he tightly clings to his mug, grateful for its warmth radiating through his hands. He fleetingly considers going to fetch you one of his spare coats, but you seem quite unbothered by the cold. You lean on the banister, scanning the horizon with an almost hungry fascination, your eyes flitting between countless small flashes of movement from the city below. “I almost forgot how lively it always is, no matter what time it is.” 

Egon stands next to you. “The city that never sleeps.”

“The city that never sleeps,” you repeat vacantly, “and the scientist who follows suit…” You turn to him, tiredness weighing heavily in your own eyes. “Since we are open to confiding,” you say slowly, trying not to tread on any sensitivities. “I worry about you. You never get enough sleep and I feel like there might be something bothering you.” 

He’s fascinated by how easily you can oscillate between idle observations and deep-seated feelings, how you and so many others manage the balance between aloofness and oversharing, when he himself often veers too far towards one or the other. He decides to fall back to one of Peter’s pre-approved conversation topics. “How is your return to New York so far?”

“Yeah, it really is.” You laugh, and he doesn’t know if it’s from derision, genuine amusement at your own comment, or an incomprehensible mixture of both. 

The cryptozoologist acting cryptically. There’s something so obviously fitting about that, and yet it’s a thought that’s never crossed his mind. A smirk creeps along his face, the half smile you so commonly reciprocate. It’s just another one of your many small charms that he finds himself so spellbound over.

You take a final swig of your drink and set down the empty mug. “How have you been this past month?”

Be honest. Keep it simple. “I missed you.” 

Your mouth splits into a bashful grin and you turn your head away from him for a very brief moment, as if to hide your face. You move closer to him and press yourself against him. He nearly jumps when he feels your touch, your warmth in the frigid night air. His heart flutters in his chest and in a sudden burst of confidence he puts his arm around you to pull you closer. 

Your shoulder stiffens beneath his arm. 

For a split second his soul runs icy and his heart drops into the pit of his stomach, fearing that he’d breached your comfort, but he’s pulled out of his dread when you lean into him.

You close your eyes and rest your head on his chest. “I missed you, too. I mean, yes, I missed everyone, Janine and Dana and the boys, but I really, really missed you from the pit of my gut.” You sigh contentedly. "It's good to have you back." 

Blood pounds in his ears. Now or never. He swallows. Now or never. “I’m in love with you,” he blurts. 

You pull away and lock eyes with him. Your face is completely unreadable to him and panic bursts in his chest. “I apologize if I’ve offended you,” he stammers rapidly. “It was never my intention to put you in an uncomfortable position and if I’ve in any way compromised your sense of safety or well-b—” 

“Egon.” 

You reach up and put your hands on either side of his face, silencing him. “Relax.” Every thought in his head grinds to a halt as you gently guide his head forward and press your lips to his. Instinct takes over and he tilts his head slightly, bringing his hand up to delicately cup the side of your face. 

After a few seconds you pull back a bit, your lips just grazing his, your breath hot on his face, sending chills down his spine. A sweetness lingers behind, the taste of your drink he made for you. “I love you, too.” Your voice is low and breezy, calming to his wildly beating heart. You stand on the tips of your toes and gently tilt his head downwards to plant a light kiss on his forehead. "It took going away for an entire month and missing you so badly for me to realize it."

For a moment he remains quiet, blinking rapidly. Then the entirety of his face lights up in a bright grin and he chuckles deeply in the back of his throat. He pulls you in for another kiss, savoring the softness of your lips against his, your warmth in the frigid night air, your presence that he’d missed so sorely for an entire month. The kiss breaks and he pulls you into a tight embrace, cradling you to his chest and resting his cheek on top of your head. You let out a contented sigh and lean further into him. The vibrations of his deep voice resonate in your chest as he hums a nonsense tune under his breath and absentmindedly sways with you in his arms. He doesn’t know how long the two of you just stand there, but he’s more than happy to stay here with you for the entire night if you let him. 

You stretch your jaw into a wide yawn. He feels the fatigue settle into you as your grip around him gradually relaxes. “Tired?” he asks.

“No,” you say thickly, struggling to suppress another yawn bubbling in your throat.

He snickers and tilts your chin up. Exhaustion is written plainly on your face, but there’s a defiant gleam burning in your eye. You don’t want to leave just yet, you want to stay up here as long as you can. He feels the same, but he knows your stamina is depleted. He presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose. “Let’s get you inside. You need rest.”

You frown. “Just a little longer?”

He finds it almost uncanny how quickly your gaze melts away his resolve, staring up at him with your big, soft eyes. He pulls you back into his arms and you settle in nicely. “Just a little longer.” 

[jjkeverlast]

Congrats on your milestone!

Could I please have Jimin with:

#21 from the fluff prompt list…”our kids are gonna be mwah*!” And

#100 from the smut prompt list….”you’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?”

foolish fools | pjm

-> pairing fwb!jimin x reader

-> genre humor

-> summary being friends with benefits with park jimin meant a lot of things... one was jokes, awful ones to say the least.

-> word count 701

-> warnings mentions of sex, jokes being cringy and make out sesh ;)

-> author's note thank you for sending in this request!! hope u enjoy some jimin <33 as always, prompts are marked in bold and i don't have taglists for requests, thank you! :)

It was barely five in the morning when you woke up with a sore throat. It might’ve been from having Jimin’s dick down your throat most of the night, regardless you still found strength to get up and make some tea, Jimin still sound asleep in your bed. 

If Jimin were to be awake this moment he’d make a snarky comment regarding your sore throat caused by the three blowjobs you’ve managed to give him while he’s been at your place. What else were you supposed to do while together? That’s not what worked for you, although sex was a different case. You had great sex. Too great to give up, so here you are six months later, still tangled up in the sheets with Park Jimin who you really thought only would be a few rounds. 

Maybe it was because of your old kettle or your constant yawning, but you somehow managed to wake up Jimin. When he notices you leaning against the counter and waiting for the water to finish boiling he questions your reasons for being awake so early in the morning. 

“I woke up with a sore throat…” You cringe, preparing yourself for Jimin’s comment but to your surprise, it never shows. 

Instead, he walks over to you, embracing you into his arms, nuzzling his chin on your head. “Sorry if I was being too rough last night.” 

“What? Of course not. I love going down on you, don’t blame yourself.” You smile, the kettle giving sign it’s done and you move around, pouring yourself some tea, asking Jimin in the process if he’d love some as well. He hums behind you, signaling he’d want a cup as well. 

Sitting on the kitchen counter, both of you, barely dressed and holding a cup of tea was oddly comforting. You’d never done something likely with Jimin before, it seemed so… domestic. The silence overfills the dark kitchen, the blinders covering the morning sunrise which is slowly appearing behind them. 

‘’Is the tea helping?’’ You turn, Jimin’s expression soothed out and less tired from earlier, where his eyes could barely hold themselves open, due to them being puffy. 

‘’Yeah, a bit.’’ You continue to carefully sip on the tea, your palms accepting the warmth that seeps through the cup. 

You find it kind of ridiculous how couple-y you and Jimin are right now. Jokes were easy to tell between the two of you, which is why you easily can pull this. 

‘’Us being in this position— I’m sorry I just can’t help but think of how domestic we’re being right now. I mean could you imagine? Us? A couple, doing all sorts of couple-y things, owning a dog, doing groceries…’’ You snort as you end the joke, to truly prove you’re joking with your statement about being remotely serious with Jimin. 

‘’Yeah, and our kids are gonna be *mwah*!’’ He uses the tip of his fingers to send off a kiss directed to you, but the word ‘our’ and ‘kids’ makes you choke on your tea. Jimin always had a tendency to drive the jokes a bit too far edge, and there was only one way to stop this joke from turning into pure horror. 

‘’Shut up.’’ 

You set your cup down, pulling Jimin by the nape of his neck and connecting your lips with his. They feel warm, probably from the tea, and a hint of the strawberry taste which you both just drank. Jimin was quick to reciprocate your impulsive kiss on the kitchen counter, but he only pulled you closer, enjoying the warmth of your body against his. 

Your grip tightens around him, as your warm tongue rolls over his own in a messy kiss. Jimin pulls apart slightly, his lips still hovering above yours, barely touching them. 

‘’You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?’’ 

‘’Apparently not enough, why don’t you do something about it?’’ You challenge him, as your hand traces from the nape of his neck towards his abdomen. 

‘’You don’t have to tell me twice.’’ With a firm and swift grip, Jimin manages to throw you over his shoulder to finish what you both started earlier in the night. 

© jjkeverlast 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.]

[grippingbeskar]

Hi! May I please request 🚕 10 with Obi-Wan? Thank you!!

— yes! ofc you may! i hope you are okay with the ‘period’ sickness way i took this, i have my period rn and needed some obi wan comfort 😭

— prompt:

🚕 10. first time being sick/them being sick around each other

— warnings: mention of periods, swearing, vomiting, cramps :(

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“Please. Don’t come in.” You sigh, voice ringing out from where your head hangs over the toilet bowel. You had been so in and out all day— waking up only to puke and cry about the cramps seizing your lower stomach, only to pass out again, that it had completed slipped your mind that you had a meeting with the council today.

What hadn’t slipped your mind, something you were painfully aware of now that he knocked on your door, was that Obi-Wan had asked to come and see you first. You only had limited time with each other— both of you needing to keep this thing that was going on between you as low profile as possible. It was confusing— but honestly, a long time coming, but whatever it was, it did not mean you wanted him to see you like this.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen today? I read the report on the way here— I didn’t see your name.” Of course, he knew you were meant to also attend the diplomatic conference with Naboo this morning, which you missed, too busy hurling up whatever remained in your stomach.

“I’m—“ You spluttered, coughing against your will, throat sore from the endless day behind you. “I’m sick. Just… you don’t want to see me right now.”

“Sick? Do you wants me to call a medical droid?” You already had. There was nothing they could do, really— this wasn’t the kind of sick they could heal. This was normal for you, every month you spent the first day or two of your period like this, but it’s never affected your work before. Never caused you to miss a meeting with the council, of all people. All the medical droid did was give you something for the pain, and a sedative so you could at least get an hour or two of sleep.

“It’s… not that kind of sick, Obi-Wan.” You expected him to back away, or be at least awkward enough to leave you alone, even though you wanted the exact opposite. You just couldn’t bare the embarrassment, really, of making him feel uncomfortable. You heard no receding footsteps, and if he hadn’t spoken you would of thought you were alone.

“Let me help you.” He spoke softly, words making your eyes flutter open with how much care he spoke with.

“You really don’t have to. I know you want to go to the meeting—“

“Stars, no. It would be terribly boring without you.” Even when you feel like your insides are shredding themselves, he makes you smile. “Besides, there is no where I would rather be than with you.”

“Even if I puke on you?” You can hear him laugh on the other side of the door, and you use your last remaining energy to unlock the door through the Force.

“Even then, darling.” Stepping into the room, he immediately comes to your side, his warm hand skating along your exposed spine, rubbing it soothingly. “What can I do?”

“That.” His hand stills for a second, and then resumes drawing aimless patterns on your back. “Feels nice.”

“Lets get you off the floor. Bed sounds nice too, doesn’t it?” You hand’t realised how tired you were until Obi-Wan began to lull you to sleep, a subconscious part of you not able to let your guard down until he was next to you. 

He supports you as you stand, wrapping his arms around your waist more than he needs to, but you don’t dare say anything to him. Not that you could walk on your own, or that now you’ve thrown up you’ve already started to feel a bit better. No, you just stay quiet and lean into his touch, the warmth of his body like your own personal heat lamp. 

“You want to change?” He looks down at your pyjamas, and you just shake your head, wanting to be buried under the covers with him in the next three seconds. 

“Just want you.” You hum groggily, and your eyes start to flutter closed the second he lays your head on the pillow. You are afraid to ask him to stay with you— and even more afraid he would say no. You hadn’t done anything like this with him before, and the thought of him leaving you right now seemed to hurt worse than the cramps.

Before you can say anything, or overthink anymore, his body is pressing firmly against yours, encouraging your leg over his waist and your head nuzzles into his chest. The positioning keeps the warmth of his body heat on your stomach, and the pain fades away wherever he is touching you, which is everywhere.

“Sleep, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Your eyes close, and your fingers dig themselves further into the complicated fabric of his far too formal robes, knowing he was telling the truth. 

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

It is only 3 o'clock. And yet the day has already been busy. I slept well but perhaps not enough. So I woke up with a raised eyebrow and it took me a long time to realize that the sun was in my eyes. I woke up and, after seeing my father, tired and discouraged to see him suffering again and again, I decided to go up to my little green room to make arrangements and wait there in any action for the arrival of the doctor. Upstairs, I had to stop for a second in my impulse. There was sunshine and a festive air... and you, everywhere. A hint of sharp pain, insurmountable nostalgia and a suffocating sweetness forced me to take back a lost moment.

I stayed there until noon and when I came down, I would have been at a loss to say what I had done there. I float in a kind of plenitude, in this life pushed to the paroxysm that you made me know and where joy, sorrow, hope, despair, desire, nostalgia, recognition, satisfaction, everything mixes, exhausting everything, pushing everything, devastating everything to make everything be reborn and start again. I needed you. I screamed, I screamed; I needed you to hear me and answer my call. O happiness! The answer was there: your two letters from Monday and Tuesday were there and they were just as I wanted them.

There are times when death doesn't mean anything anymore, and before I go any further and move on to less happy events, I want to answer your letters first. Don't be afraid, my darling. Luckily, life still loves me enough to never abandon me, and the fact that I even complain about it and revolt against this boredom that is winning me over and this desert where I am struggling is proof of this. What would I have to ask her if I didn't feel her value in me, her echo near or far? And then... those who are born alive, die alive and I even wonder to what extent life does not go beyond their existence... but where am I going? Forgive me, my love; I am going astray. I just wanted to assure you of something that you never doubted; even at the moments when I feel the deadest soul, a thousand embers are there that fizzle in silence and that all the ice in the world would not reach. These thousand embers, I reserve them all for you. They are waiting for you, as well as the ashes - alas.

As for the external life that you advise me, this one is too indifferent to me at this moment. It does not exist. My desires can't touch her at any minute. I regret, moreover, because it distracts me, perhaps, and I must say and confess that during this absence I have only one idea: to distract myself, because the pain I feel is too acute to find the slightest pleasure in it and my courage is a little weakened after these last months of tiredness. I'm glad you rented a piano. It is a living soul, suddenly installed in the house. I didn't know that F [rancine] could play so well.  Why doesn't she work?  Push her again. Give her the boldness she may lack. If she can do something big, it would be a real pity to stop along the way. How are the children? And your mom? And your brother, should he still be with you?

But these questions bring me back to my day and the sad events of the morning. The doctor, who has recovered from cystitis, came this morning to see my father who has had a sore throat and a slight fever for two days. Alas! An infectious pharyngitis has just set in and blurred everything again, before the first serum injection. All this would be nothing if he didn't suffer from it, but it is very painful and complicated by the fact that he can't breathe well except through his mouth, which dries out his already wounded throat. Moreover, he, who is never hungry, no longer eats, having too much difficulty swallowing, and all the admirable patience he has shown up to now has disappeared and has given way to an impotent revolt that I can't look at for long without having my heart in a vice.

We will start the aerosols again tomorrow and from this afternoon the nurse will come every three hours to give him extra shots of penicillin. What misery, my love! What misery! If you only knew! Finally, I always hope, with all my heart, that a day will come for him when he will feel at least a little relieved, and that he will not leave this earth without having again shared moments of rest. For the moment it is especially necessary to arm oneself with patience, to help him, as much as possible, to find his own and to wait. But there are hours when one no longer understands this continual crushing that is inflicted on him and that nothing can justify, and then one would bite if one had something to bite. Here we are.

But the clock is ticking and I must begin the cure. Maybe tonight, if I'm not too tired, I'll write to you again. The more I hate words, letters, paper, ink, the more time passes and these words add up to each other, the more I feel the need to write to you. It is incomprehensible. I love you, my darling, my love, my beautiful love. Oh, no; I don't want to beat you today, but I want to kiss you, kiss you, kiss you again, kiss you until I lose my breath and until you are in front of me and I can't push you away because of my lipstick. Ah, that day! This moment!

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 2, 1950 [#165]

[silly-thinkings]

Hi! I absolutely adore your stories and was wondering if you could write a story about bruce wayne having a twin or younger sister who is married to superman and she is staying with the bats because she is like 9 months pregnant and clark is on some kind of mission but she goes into labor when there is no one other than alfred to help her and they can't get a hold of any one else first responders or the bats and so when they return (including clark) she is either JUST about to give birth or has just finished the birthing process and when bruce and clark see and realize that, one or both of them immediately faint! I think that would be hilarious! 🤣🤣 Sorry if this is weird or dumb... Either way I love you and your stories!

I 👏love 👏 this 👏

This was not weird or dumb! this was so fun to write. I was obsessing over this idea all day and finished! Hope you enjoy. If anyone else has any requests like these send them my way!

She felt her baby kick hard “Ouch. I thought the super baby antics come after you’re born.”

A sudden boom could be heard from from outside making the house shake. Y/n heard the car alam sound off followed by krypto’s barking. Finally, she heard someone outside the door frantically messing with the keys to get inside. The door opened to show a messy haired Clark Kent. His Superman suit was slightly disheveled with burn Marks scattered about. What you didn’t expect was to see your brother standing ominously behind him. His bat suit seemed fine compared to Clark’s.

“BB!” Y/N attempted to get up but sat right back down. Her swollen feet and active baby clearly telling her to stay put.

Clark quickly went to her side. “Are you alright? I'm sorry I’m late. Somethings come up and-“

Y/N places her finger on his lips “I can tell you’re tense love. Why don’t you go shower hmm?”

“But.”

Y/N gave Clark a glare. Bruce looked away slightly trying to fight off a laugh as he witnessed his sister hit Superman with the Batglare.

Clark sighed “fine.” He gave her a kiss. Which lasted too long for Bruce’s liking. The bat cleared his throat “I’m in the room.”

The couple smiled under the kiss “we know.” Y/N stated before she used Clark to get up from the couch. Clark worriedly placed a hand on her lower back, then stomach. He can hear how active his son is.

“I’m not made of glass Clark. Just a little sore is all. Now come give me a hug big bro~”

Clark finally dismissed himself after giving both her and her belly a kiss.

The siblings gave each other a rather awkward-looking hug, but a great hug nonetheless. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. “How’s Alfred and the kids?”

“They’re fine. Well… as far as I know. Jason and Dick are still pretty distant. Tim is doing good, he asked about you.”

Y/n nodded her head she knew Bruce was doing his best to mend things with his children. And she’s proud that he’s opened up more.

Y/N smiles “Jason called about a month ago. Said he had some books for the baby. And I think Dicks got a new girlfriend.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as she made her way to the kitchen “so big brother, to what do I owe the pleasure of this mighty visit?”

He took off the mask and looked around the home “came to check on you and my nephew. Is that too hard to believe?”

Y/n poured herself a glass of water “yes actually. Cause when you do visit you not only plan ahead of time. But I’m littered with Batman merch for the baby. And Alfred would accompany you. So what’s the real reason?”

Bruce knew his sister would know the deeper meaning behind this particular visit. Clark wanted to ease her into the conversation but that kind of talk doesn’t work for the Waynes.

“Clark and I have a mission off world.”

Y/N immediately spat out her drink. “WHAT!”

“BRUCE! I TOLD YOU TO WAIT!” Clark’s voice boomed from the bathroom.

Bruce sucked his teeth. He knew Clark was listening but damn.

Y/N placed a hand over her face “what do you- What do you mean- off-world- is the world ending!? The world better be ending if you two are going off-world when MY baby due in two weeks.”

Bruce placed both his hands up in surrender “Y/N calm down.”

“Some nerve to come in here and tell me to calm down after hearing something like that.”

Now Bruce stood as she watched Y/N pace back and forth in the kitchen. He knows he kicked the hornet's nest, there have been multiple times in his life where he pulled a move similar to this and he paid a mighty cost for it.

“I’m telling you to calm down so you can listen to the plan.”

“You’re TELLING me!” Y/N picked up a Woden spoon and threw it at her brother.

He dodged it “yes. I’m telling you. The mission debrief will be hoasted in the cave since you can’t go to the watch tower. You’ll be staying with Alfred till we-“

A ladle was thrown at him to which he caught “really?”

“yes really! You promised you’d be there when the baby’s born.”

Y/n grabbed another wooden spoon ready to throw it at her brother. But a gentle hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked behind her to see her husband’s chest. She then properly looked at him only to find him only wrapped in a towel. Most of her anger washed away as she looked at such a handsome sight. His Cologne soothed her greatly, his beautiful eyes looking down at her with so much love and worry.

“Y/N everything is going to be ok.” He gently took the wooden spoon from her grasp and placed it on the counter.

Bruce let out a huff as he watched his little sister get all gooey-eyed at his best friend “that’s exactly what I said.”

Y/n wrapped her arms around Clark making him blush. “I-umm. Bruce, can we have some time alone please?”

Bruce gave him a deadpan look before putting his cowl on “debriefing is in 1 hour. Alfred has your room ready Y/n”

Bruce noticed Y/N nod her head before leaving. The sound of the batmobile revved in the distance leaving both Husband and Wife alone.

“Clark. Please tell me this is just some prank.”

Clark kissed the top of her head before slightly pulling her away to have a proper look at her “I wish it was too.”

Y/n felt tears swell “can’t you just say no? Just this once.”

“You know I can’t.”

“And what if I loose you.” She whispered as she placed her hands on her belly “Clark I can’t raise him on my own. I don’t want my baby to have the same fate that Bruce and I-“

Y/n cut herself off. This sentiment was for both Clark and Bruce. What would she do if they both died. How would she manage it all by herself.

Clark pressed both of his hands on her cheeks “Listen to me Y/N Kent.” His voice was soft as her breathing began to slow down. “You won’t loose me. Us. Bruce and I will be back in one piece.”

Y/N put her hands on top of his “you don’t know that. You cannot guarantee that outcome.”

“ neither can you my love. you Can’t guarantee that I’ll be dead.” Clark gently wiped the tears with his thumb “I’ll be back just in time for Jon. You’ll see.”

Y/N finally looked into his eyes. Before giving him a long hard kiss. Clark wrapped his arms around her, so invested in the moment that he bumped his head… on the ceiling.

Y/n looked around her and slight sniffles mixed with giggles blessed his ears “you take the term cloud nine so literally.”

~~~~~~

Y/n sat next to Clark in the cave as Bruce discussed the plan via powerpoint presentation to his fellow colleagues. The mission was a simple one on The surface. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and the flash were to aid The green lantern with protecting a certain sector of space. Why couldn’t they have the green lantern corps deal with this? Y/N wondered why now they’d be M.I.A.

“Are there any questions?” Bruce asked as his dorky slides came to a close. None of the other members said anything, especially Hal since he is very aware that this was a bad time to ask for the leagues' help. All eyes fell on Y/N as she ate one of Alfred’s cookie.

Y/N finally noticed all eyes on her. She stood, which cause Clark to stand with her. Anxious for her and his baby. “I don’t have any questions. But I do have a statement to make.”

Y/n with the help of Clark walked to her brother. The two never broke eye contact. She poked his cheek which greatly annoyed him, but he was Batman. He cannot let this break his character.

“Come back to me alive.” Y/n turned to the other supers “all of you come back alive. Cause as soon as This baby is born, the real Batman vs. Superman will take place.”

Hal and Berry burst out into laughter as Diana smirked. Even Alfred chuckled with the joke.

Both Bruce and Clark looked at each other. Then to you, confusion on their faces as the joke flew over their heads.

******

Y/n attempted to get up from her bed “Alfred it’s been 2 weeks. Why arent they back yet. Has something happened. They were supposed to be back 3 days ago.”

Alfred placed a hand over Y/N’s “breath Lady Y/N. Deep breaths. This stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

“But Alfi. We’ve had 3 false alarms what if the next one is the real thing?”

“Then I'll finally be meeting my grandchild. And you will be a mother to a beautiful baby boy.” Alfred expressed calmly as he provided Y/N with some fluffy socks.

The wind mixed with the rain Roared outside. A strong hurricane befell on Gotham. The good news was due to the weather majority of Gotham's baddies aren’t out and about. The bad news is they’re trapped in the manor.

Y/n did see the weather report and planned ahead. A midwife was present just incase Jon decided to come home before his father. But not having her husband or brother by her side scared her. And then it happened. Y/N had huge mixed feelings about her water breaking. “Wait. Jon. Daddy isn’t here yet.”

Alfred stood. The look of worry on her face was all that he needed to know. “Lady Y/N, do the breathing I showed you. I’ll be right back.”

The midwife quickly came to her side and began preparations.

Alfred hastily went to Bruce’s office. He clicked a certain button, allowing access to the bat computer.

“Bruce, come in Bruce.”

~~~~~

24hrs later

Clark was so tired. Everyone was tired. He, along with Bruce sustained many big injuries during the fight. One of Clark’s injuries was being impaled with a Kryptonite spear. Thankfully he was impaled in the leg. But due to the radiation, it’s been taking longer to heal. He’d been bedridden. He was too weak to fly home. and not being able to fly home was dreadful. He thought of Y/N and how worried she must be. Since the fight was well over the calculated time. Communications with Earth were severed on their end, and unless someone on earth contacts them. They’re in the dark.

“Hey.” Bruce’s raspy voice was heard on the bed next to him. How funny that the two people who should have been the most careful with their lives, we’re the most reckless in trying to save the lives of others. Bruce had a couple of cracked ribs and a broken arm. Aside from that he came out decent.

“Yea?”

“Who do you think Y/N will get mad at first. Me or you?”

Clark chuckled “I think she’s going for you. Your the one who’s the most injured.”

“Hmmm… someone needs to keep you alive.” Bruce’s rough tone was amusing given the circumstances.

“Not at the cost of your life. You shouldn’t have been so reckless. Think about Y/N. Your kids, Alfred.” Clark scolded as he sat up from his bed to get a good look at his Brother in law.

“I could say the same about you. I don’t want my nephew fatherless.”

Clark let out a huff “y/n said something similar.”

Suddenly, berry burst through the door causing both men to be put on high alert.

“Before I say this, you have to promise me you’ll be calm about it.”

Both men looked at each other. And then Clark heard it. Her voice, from miles, away he heard her distinct screams. “How far away are we?”

“We’re still in deep space. It’ll take us another 2 days. That is, if the fuel holds up.”

No, not two days. Now. He needed to be by her side now. Clark stood, ripping the iv tubes “let me out.”

Berry held up his hand “Alfred is on the line. There’s a hurricane in Gotham so the line isn’t stable.”

This information certainly didn’t help his case. His wife is giving birth to their child in a hurricane. What if they’re stranded? What if medical attention doesn’t make it to her on time. “Let. Me. Out.”

Bruce attempted to get up from his bed “Take the escape pod before you start blowing things up.”

Clark looked to Bruce who only smirked at him. Clark gave him a nod before walking off.

~~~~~~

Clark heard her. He heard everything that happened in the room. It was as if he were in the room with her. He finally saw Pluto. His injuries were healing at a painfully slow rate. But he’ll make it. He will be by her side. By the time he reached Mars he heard her stop screaming. That wasn’t right. Why can’t he hear Y/N. Or his child? With all the power he had left he boomed to the Wayne manor. The Kryptonian opened the door to the mansion.

“I’m here! Alfred. Y/n I’m here!”

Alfred calmly walked down the steps. He placed a finger over his mouth as he walked towards Clark with some clothes. His glasses sitting on top of the clothing “change. We don’t want the midwife knowing who you are.”

“Y/n? Is she?”

“Lady Y/N is fine. She’s upstairs with your son.”

“M-my son.” Clark pressed his hand to his mouth. Happiness and excitement took over him. He quickly took the clothes and went to the bathroom. Ignoring the pain he removed as much gunk as he could. Once he looked in the mirror and deemed himself ready he made his way over to his wife.

Clark opened the door a little too fast“Y/n I’m here.”

Y/n slightly jumped. She didn’t expect Clark to just burst in like that. “Welcome home. Jon couldn’t wait to come out.”

Clark slowly walked to the bed. He noticed how tired Y/N was. And felt extremely guilty. But the coo’s of his son brought him peace.

And with peace came a wave of stars. Y/n was so focused on the baby that a loud bang brought her back to reality. She looked at the floor to see her husband. The Superman knocked out.

Y/n looked to Alfred who was at the door of the room “Alfi.”

“Yes. It appears sir Clark has fainted.”

[ragnarlothcat]

I was tagged by @veloursdor (thank you 🥰) and I have a sore throat and am responding from the centre of a pile of blankets. I am cozy and my mouth tastes like chai (also teeth, probably).

1.) How many works do you have on ao3?

27 apparently! I should have a 30th birthday party for my account once we reach that point.

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

446,791. Definitely thought I was over 500k by now but that's writer's block for you. I've written half as much this year as I did last year. But if I really apply myself in the next two months...

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars only at the moment. I've toyed with branching out but I've decided that any spare inspiration goes to original fiction instead.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

à la carte - I think this is the fic I'm most known for? Inasmuch as I'm known for things anyway. Glad people are still enjoying it!

Aggressive Negotiations - I had no idea this one was second now. Good for it! This is one of my hornier Obi-Wans, which is saying something given how I write the guy.

as holy and enchanted - Only two chapters but it contains as much sex as a much longer work. Efficient!

nothing compares to you - hasn't been updated since February 2022 but I guess some people like seeing Anakin fling himself against the Force like an angry cat trying to break down a door.

Out of the Bag - catboy Anakin my beloved, my original poor little meow meow.

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I was good about it for a while because I like talking to people about my fics but then in like December of last year I burned out a little and stopped replying but kept posting fics and then the situation got out of control. I started replying again over the summer and have just decided that everything between like December 2022 and June 2023 exists in a weird little no-reply bubble.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably my most recent fic, from a certain point of view. It ends okay for Obi-Wan and Anakin at least?

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The fics that have endings are almost all happy endings 🤔 à la carte, maybe? There are a bunch of non-obikin characters who also have nice things happen to them so maybe it's extra happy.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

I guess the closest I've gotten are snarky comments about my lack of updates but those people do seem to like the fic. They're just not crazy about the author.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yup! It's funny, I described my smut as vanilla but it's all relative isn't it? I think by many standards obikin itself is pretty kinky.

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do not. The closest is probably as holy and enchanted because I definitely borrowed Indiana Jones vibes for my Anakin, but nothing beyond that.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware so if so, the thief made a clean getaway!

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

A few! Actually the funniest thing I did was immediately paste the text into google translate so I could see what was going on before realizing that, uh, I already know what it says in English...

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope! I've talked about doing it a few times but I worry that I'd be a nightmare to work with since I'm not great at sticking by a project.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

At this point it has to be obikin. I've never maintained interest for this long in any fandom before. It's the combination of interesting and handsome characters with a setting ripe for fix-its. And then it's fun making weird AUs with them too? They're just excellent!

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I mean never say never but Murder at Theed Hall is extraordinarily unlikely. I write mystery original fiction (well, write is a strong word recently but like...I have a pile of disjointed paragraphs?) so I just don't feel the drive to resolve the story.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I keep answering "dialogue" for the various iterations of this question but like, how embarrassing if everyone else thinks my dialogue sucks? I stand by it anyway but the idea weighs on me!

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I think my biggest weakness is all the time I spend beating myself up for clumsy phrasing or slow output so my new answer is I have no weaknesses and everything I'm doing is on purpose. Yay me!

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've never had a reason to do this. The most I can imagine is a quick "Anakin said something to Artoo in binary" but otherwise I'd probably translate into English. Is that frowned upon???

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. I was like 13 and it's exactly what you'd imagine.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

It depends on my mood! In my current mood I'll pick my baseball fic The Bottom of the Ninth because I really wrote 40k about obikin playing baseball. I was my target audience and I had a great time. No regrets!

Tagging (does it say how many? I'll just do a few) and as always, no pressure: @renlyslittlerose, @treescape, @intermundia, @artemisthehuntress, @lilredghost

[inkareds]

Sick Matt Murdock

✧.* word count: 1.6k

✧.* warnings: Mentions of COVID, reader has covid, mentions of symptoms of covid, heavily uneditted (I was too lazy)

✧.* genre: SFW // fluff

inspired by me having covid a month ago and having a covid scare last week. Also guys it would make the world for me if you guys could pls check out my halloween event !! I'm trying something out hehe

“Shit.” You groaned to yourself as you looked down on the positive test on your hand.

Now, that sentence, to some people could sound like a life-sentence, but to you, it was an inconvenience at most. Because, no, you weren’t pregnant, but yes, you had covid. You wanted to bash your head in to a wall after realizing you got covid in 2022. Where it had seemed a good chunk of people were slowly moving on from the pandemic all together.

But here you were, with a scratchy throat, bleeding headache, and a positive antigen test on your hand.

It had started a few days ago at work, you had been feeling off, worsening headaches and burning eyes. Despite this, you had thought nothing of it, thinking that it had been allergies or perhaps the flu. Who would’ve thought that it was the infamous covid.

The thought of trying the antigen test didn’t even cross your mind when you told Matt, Foggy, and Karen about how ill you’ve been feeling these past few days. All before Karen reminded you of the very real possibility that you may have covid. You brushed her off but as minutes ticked by, the paranoia set it, especially because you realized Matt had stayed quieter the rest of the time you four were together. No doubt, scanning your body with his enhanced senses to see if you actually did have it.

Then you got home after kissing Matt’s cheek goodbye as the three of them had to continue working on a pesky case. Matt’s brows furrowed as you usually kissed him on the lips, but again, Karen had planted that idea of you having covid and now you were worried that if you did have covid, you’d infect Matt.

And Matt did not deal with illness well.

When you got home, you quickly raided your medicine box for a test. This was where you had found yourself right now.

Itchy throat, burning eyes, bleeding headache, and a positive test on your hand.

You groaned as you begun to search in your bag for your phone, quickly calling Foggy and Karen as you decided it was too late at night for Matt to not be out devilling.

“Yep, I’m sure it is, well, get yourself tested. I’m sorry if I gave it to you guys before your big case.” You spoke to the two of them, “Also, tell Matt when he’s done with patrolling, I don’t want to stress him out on the field.”

You ended the call with a tired groan. After telling your boss that you’d probably be useless for the next couple of days then go back to working from home until you’re completely healed. You took it upon yourself to rest.

You drank some medicine for your headache and sore throat then prompted to lock all your windows and doors before a vigilante dressed like the devil came knocking in. Which you knew he’d definitely do after he finds out you were sick.

Now on your bed, you try to stay awake by using your phone, but the screen’s glaring brightness just seem to burn your eyes even more than it did before. So, you turned it off and opted to simply stare at the ceiler. Which, wasn’t a very good idea. As soon enough, your eyelids began to drop heavier and heavier.

Just as your eyes were about to close completely, engulfing you in the peaceful darkness that is sleep. You hear a gentle tapping on your window. With a sigh you debated on ignoring it, perhaps you could pretend to sleep.

But knowing him, he probably already knew you weren’t asleep.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect this. Matthew Murdock was a hypocrite. He hated when the people close to him got hurt and yet, he himself gets hurt on a daily basis.

With tired steps you slowly push your body off of your bed, feeling your muscles begin to groan and your head begin to spin. This was going to be a long week, especially as the symptoms worsen and then betters.

When you got to the window near your bed, you realized how much longer it took for you to get there. The actual distance was probably a few steps from where you were laying moments ago. But with each heavy step, you could barely take one after the other.

You sat down on a chair near your window, watching Matt with his Daredevil outfit tapping on the window.

“Matt,” you know he can hear you, “Matt go home.” It was times like these you were so grateful you hadn’t moved in with him, despite how much you desperately wanted it.

Matt simply tapped even harder, as if trying to will you to open the window to at least talk to him.

“Not only are you not wearing a mask, and neither am I, so if we talk you’re almost certainly going to get covid, but you’re also supposed to be out there rescuing people!” You argued with him.

Truth be told, even talking was scratching your throat in an irritating manner. Matt must’ve sensed or heard? It. As he stopped tapping and sighed, letting his forehead lean against the window.

“Can you hear me?” Matt spoke, testing if the glass separating the two of you was thin enough for sound to pass through it. “Mhm.” Was your only response as your eyelids began to feel heavier again.

“Can you let me in? I’ll make you some soup that you can warm up tomorrow morning for breakfast, and then I’ll leave, I promise.” Matt was good at telling when other people were lying, but he was absolutely terrible at lying.

You shook your head with a large smile on your face, “No can do sir. If I let you in, you’ll find a way to stay with me until I’m all better, and I’ll feel much too guilty from keeping Hell’s Kitchen’s protector away for too long.” You chuckled as Matt looked even more dejected that you found out his plan.

“Come on sweetheart. You’re sick, let me take care of you like you took care of me every time Claire can’t.” Matt practically begged at you.

He can, eerily might you add, sense your body aching and hear the blood rushing through your veins as it tries to fight off the terrible virus in your system. He can hear the way your voice became scratchier and the way it slurred showed your exhaustion.

Unfortunately for Matt, you knew him better than you knew yourself. You knew if you let him take care of you. He’d get sick right around the time that you’ll start to feel better. Which means he’ll be out of the job for far longer than he would be comfortable with.

And no matter how many times he’s said that you are more of a priority to him than the city. You won’t let him put you on such a pedestal. You know the city needs him, and deep inside, he loves protecting this city. Loves cleaning up the streets one thug at a time.

You won’t pull him out of that.

“If you really want to make me some hot soup you can always just bring it to me, you don’t have to cook inside my apartment Matt.” You tried to find a compromise.

It’d be futile to ask Matt to completely ignore your current predicament, and truth be told, you liked the idea of being pampered. Not having to worry about what foods you’ll be eating, the medicine you’ll be drinking. And seeing as how Matt didn’t live too far away. You thought this was the best option.

When he stayed silent you knew you won the argument.

“Matt,” your voice was soft, caring, understanding, and laced with absolute exhaustion. “The city needs you.” He doesn’t even need to see your face or sense the muscles pulling at your lips to know you were smiling. Just the was you said it made him, hear, that you were smiling.

“I love you.” Was the only thing he could say back to you, which you responded with a chuckle and, “I love you too.”

Matt then stood up, thinking to himself what kind of soup to drop off in the morning when he’ll need to leave for work. Though as he climbed over the fire escape, about to jump off into the night, he couldn’t help himself but lay in another advice.

“Don’t forget to drink a lot of water and don’t work too hard.” He thought he heard you mutter under your breath calling him a hypocrite as you shuffled back to bed and finally rest.

Tomorrow morning you’ll find outside your door, not only a container of soup, but also a myriad of different herbal teas (which you guessed was from Claire), packs and packs of medicine, and a tiny bear with a note attached to it. (The note said something about getting well soon in scribbles, no doubt Foggy’s handwriting).

Aside from all that, was also a bouquet of flowers you can actually smell.

Warmth erupted in your heart when you realized Matt must’ve had the worst time bringing the flowers that most likely smelled so strongly to him. Just to make sure that you could have flowers you could actually enjoy. As he knew the virus would only dull your senses.

Glancing at the container of soup, you have no doubt that he probably spiced it more than he needed to as well.

[crabs-with-sticks]

Portrait of a Dead Girl- a post-Trespasser angst filled Solavellan fic

Portrait of a Dead Girl (2076 words) by CrabsWithSticks Chapters: 1/9 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan & Dorian Pavus Characters: Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Charter (Dragon Age), Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Dissociation, Bad Parenting, because of aforementioned trauma, Mental Health Issues, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Pining, i guess?, Solas and Lavellan are both still in love and miss each other, Enemies and Lovers, But they don't want to be enemies, Flashbacks, Both Kinds Summary: 4 years after the events of Trespasser, Lavellan is not doing well. She is continuing to try to stop Solas, but is slowly killing herself in the process as she pushes herself forwards so she never had to look back at all she has lost. Lavellan arrives at the Pavus Estate to begin a dangerous mission that will have her facing the ghosts of her past.

And I wish that you had given me the courtesy, Of ripping out my throat. And I wish that I let you have the dignity, Of letting me go. -Portrait of a Dead Girl by The Last Dinner Party

9:48 Dragon, 4 years post-trespasser Ghilara Lavellan pulled the hood of her oilskin cloak off her head as she entered through the back entrance to the Pavus estate. The cool air hit her, causing shivers to run down her spine and the nub of her arm to tickle with pins and needles. She was glad to be here at last. She had been travelling on foot for just over a week now, the operation that was being planned was extremely important and extremely secret, so the last thing it needed was word of the Inquisitor, blessed fucking Herald of Andraste showing up. And while a week on foot, an anonymous traveller among many on the road was good for subtlety, it was not good for her joints, which creaked, a dull and constant pain. She had passed her fourth decade a few months ago, as her body was always desperately keen to remind her. It was also not good for her shoulders which ached from the weight of the pack, and she was sure there would be sores from where the straps had rubbed against her skin, even through her clothing. Having nobody with her to watch her back also made her paranoid after half a decade or so of assassination attempts. So she had slept poorly and lightly, camping off the side of the road where possible, watching for danger. Hard to believe 5 years ago I was gallivanting across Thedas, now look at me. Old, sore, and tired. I swear my knees didn’t use to be this bad. She supposed she had had a horse then, and at least Solas had- No. She took a deep breath in, and on the exhale let all the emotions trickle out of her, leaving her empty and half a step back from her body. There was too much to do right now to get caught up in, well, that. She ran through the list of what she would need to get done before she headed out. She would need to check inventory. She had to carry more healing potions now that she didn’t have a spirit healer with her since Sol- No! She would have to check her potion stash to stock up on healing potions. And they’d have a war council as well to go over the plan for the mission. If she had her dates right it should be this evening. And that meant Cassandra would expect her to be at least semi-presentable. She’d probably be getting a scolding from the two ex-templars anyway over something she had done wrong. Then she would need to check over the chosen agents, make sure they were up to standard. Hopefully Charter had made it. She couldn’t be the only elf there or she would probably go insane.

Read the rest here!