#i think its coming back to me so sorry for the inconvenience ill stop

[knific]

original under cut

[qsphyxias]

Nightwing x Male! Reader (hurt/comfort)

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you just broke up with ur bf bc he cheated on u and Nightwing comes to make u feel better.

warnings ; swearing, break ups, venting (not traumatic or too deep) about relationship, manhandle joke, angst? its topic is sad but I think I made it too nice and fluffy

note ; i wanna add more, esp. with pillow talk or whatever but I'm too tired and maybe ill just make another part or smth or edit it

words ; 1.3k+

Your face burned, and your lips trembled against the hand you held up against your moth. You sighed shakily, dropping your head atop your arm leaned up against the railing of your balcony. That was the end of another relationship.

You looked at the wet cement down below, over the thin, black iron railing, your eyes couldn't focus on anything because of the fat tears that obstructed most of your vision. Gravity pulled your tears to the ground, almost pulling you entirely over the rails — you just felt so tired.

The day you've had was just about enough for you to bear. You found out your boyfriend of three years was cheating on you for two of those three years. But the worst part was that you hadn't even found out yourself; he had told you, and he had been the one to break up with you. As if, you were the problem.

You were in the way.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You murmured under your breath, rage began to well up, and you could feel it in your throat — strangling you, taking your breath and turning it into steam. "I wasted three years on him. Three fucking years of my life!" You backed away from the ledge, looking up at the sky as if it represented the entire world before you. "And for what?"

Despite it all, a part of you wanted him back. Not because you loved him, but because, where else will you find someone? You knew everything about him, and you... well, you hoped he knew just about everything to know about you. But now, all that information is useless. You were scared and alone; how much time did you really have? It's not like some handsome, piece of ass is going to come around and save you.

You slid down on the cold surface of the balcony, sitting down and tucking your knees in as you watched your fingers fidget in front of you. You stopped crying, but now it felt worse than before. Your heart had no means to release all that raw emotion because your body couldn't take the exhaustion.

"Hey, are... you alright?" A gentle hand grabs your shoulder, and your head shoots up to see dark blue eyes, staring at you with nothing but hopeful concern. His hope to somehow make you feel better, and his concern that you are currently sitting on the ground, eyes, nose, and mouth red and swollen.

You don't push away, not at all — in fact, that's the last thing on your mind. Even when it hits you that Nightwing is leaning over you, a knee on the ground and his arm on your shoulder. You're too drained to react properly, you just stare at him.

You pressed your hand on your cheek, murmuring your speech. "Give me a fucking break." Had he arrived at a time — literally any other time — less inconvenient, you probably would have asked him for an autograph and fawned over his arms. He chuckled at your reply, not at all offended by your display of disdain at his appearance. He took a seat next to you on the cold hard ground.

For a couple of minutes, you both just sat there, and you stared off into space as you silently fought with your inner demons to not lash out at him. With an apologetic sigh, withdrawing your attitude from before. "I'm sorry, it's been a rough night- I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me for two years." Nightwing glanced over as you mentioned a boyfriend, so you weren't straight, huh? That totally won't affect how he sees you.

The man beside you sucked in a sharp breath as you mentioned your situation, immediately feeling terrible as he put himself in your shoes. "Don't worry about it; you deserve a little lashing out." You scoffed affectionately as you wiped your remaining tears away with your sleeve, he was friendly, wasn't he?

"That's nice of you to say." Suddenly, the floor looked much more interesting than looking at the attractive man beside you. He noticed the averted gaze and brought you back to reality by placing his hand on yours. "I'm serious, lash out at me! Whatever you wanna say to him, say to me." He was serious, grinning at his great idea.

"I mean I heard you wailing from miles away; I'm sure you don't have a shortage of things to say." He looked proud of himself. "Dear god — you heard that?" You stood up and backed away from him, with him following you closely. "I think half of Gotham heard that." He teased, watching your ashamed expression with a smile.

"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?" You said, standing your ground as you taunted him right back. His smile only grew, "I have mixed reviews."

"Alright, Nightwing. I'll take you up on your offer." You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him, "I'll vent."

He rubbed his hands together in response, beckoning you towards him. "Give it to me."

Your face turned beet-red at the sudden conspicuous innuendo, and you paused. Hoping he hadn't noticed, you got back in the zone and tried to imagine your ex's face in place of Nightwing's. "Okay, alright. Well. You're... You're a dick."

Dick laughed, for more reasons than one. "That's it? Have at me! Don't be shy." You frowned, "Fine then, you're not just a dick. You're also cruel." You looked into his eyes, seeing your ex's face before you instead of Nightwing's.

To fuel the fire, you channeled all those feelings into your speech. "You broke my heart for no reason when you could have left me when you met him. And- Instead, you wasted my time, thinking I was in this... This loving relationship with a man I was going to marry — " Before you could keep rambling on, you felt strong arms around you, grounding you. You hadn't noticed you were trembling from the emotion until you felt the calm, still body against yours.

You also hadn't noticed how much you absolutely needed that hug.

Hesitating, your arms hovered over his back before you tenderly hugged him back, sinking into his body knowing he could still hold you from his already tight grip. You wondered if you'd ever be hugged like this again now that you didn't have a boyfriend. Whenever your ex did decide to hold you like this, it wasn't often.

Sleep took over your body as his warmth may have reminded you too much of your sheets, and the comfort of your bed. Maybe he reminded you of home.

"... Was that too much?" You murmured against the chestpiece of his suit. He shook his head, not wanting to see your expression just yet. Your frown and your trembling lips broke his heart.

"I think I'm tired." Dick took that to heart and picked you up with ease, walking over to your balcony door and stepping in. "Oh- so you're just gonna manhandle me then?" You declared eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. For a second, he was worried he had crossed a boundary. "Well, I'm okay with that." Now he wasn't so worried.

Dick chuckled as he placed you down on your bed, turning off the light beside you and moving to exit your apartment. He stopped in his tracks as he heard you groan. "Wait, come back..! Stay with me. Please?" He turned around to see you pouting on your bed, knowing you were trying your absolute best to extract pity out of him to make him stay.

"It'll be my first night in three years without a warm body sleeping next to me; you're really gonna leave a guy hanging?" He rolled his eyes as you played the break-up card, waltzing over with a defeated look on his face. You on the other hand, had adorned an expression of joy.

"You regret stopping by my balcony, don't you?"

"... Far from it, actually."

[demonicheadcanons]

The Obey Me Brothers When the MC is Sick

AN: MC is gender neutral. TW for obvious mentions of illness (warning for anyone with emetophobia) and death (no actual death included). The MC has a general ‘bug/fever’ style illness to keep things simple. Like last time, I’ve included scenarios that take into account whether or not you’re close, because I want to consider what they’d be like when the MC first gets there vs when they’ve been there for a while.

Note: All of the brothers aren’t worried about getting sick, because I headcanon that whilst the demons can pass on harmful illnesses to humans that can be deadly, the opposite generally is not true.

Total words: Around 5k. This was written in 3 different sessions so there may be some inconsistencies. Sorry for mistakes, its 1am and I’m too tired to double check everything. Enjoy!!

 Lucifer

· If you’re not close: He’ll check up on you, take your temperature, and ask about the symptoms. He’s not necessarily cold, but just seems rather emotionless, or he might come off as frustrated - because he is. It wouldn’t be good for Diavolo’s goals if something were to happen to you, so the entire thing is an inconvenience.

· He’ll take care of you to a degree, but he’s not going to be a very comforting presence. He’ll give you any medicine or potions he can find that might help, or he’ll ask Solomon or a doctor to look after you. The warmest gesture you can expect from him is a cup of herbal tea in the morning when you wake up.

· Have fun catching up on all the schoolwork you missed after. Lucifer claims he has too much work to do to help you, and he’s telling the truth... kind of.

· If you are close, he’s going to ask you to move to his room until you get better - this is so that he can keep an eye on your whilst working at his desk, so that his brothers won’t constantly disturb you, and also because he wants to be as close as possible; he can comfort you easier if you’re right there, and he can spend the night with you in his arms if it makes you less miserable.

· He’s going to be gentle and attentive. He’ll take his gloves off and check your temperature with one hand, and then ask a lot of questions. “How do you feel?” “Where does it hurt?” “Do you think you can eat?” “Can you drink some water?” “How do you think you got sick?” He wants whatever details you’re willing to give so he can paint an accurate picture of things and start resolving it as soon as possible.

· When he’s with you, he’ll rub soothing circles against your palm or the back of your hand with his thumb, or against your cheeks and jaw, or along your arms and sides - whatever seems to comfort you most.

· He’ll ask if there’s anything you want him to do, or anything that you think might help - he’s not your servant, and he does have to bite back his pride a little to ask, but if he can make you happy then he has plenty to be proud for. He knows humans are more fragile than demons, but going by everything you’ve said it seems like this isn’t a serious illness, just a little sick spell. Lucifer is one of the more realistic brothers - he knows not to panic too much. However, he’d still rather not see you upset or hurt if he can help it.

· If you’re physically being sick, he’s going to initially step back because its rare for demons to get to that stage, and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. After a bit he’ll take to rubbing your back and mumbling whatever reassurances he can think of. He won’t admit it, but it definitely threw him off a bit, and it makes him even more anxious and doting for the next while.

· He feels guilty if he has to leave to go to class, but he’ll tuck you in and leave you with some tea and light snacks. He can’t afford to miss out on work, he has far too much to do already without falling behind and he doesn’t want to disappoint Diavolo. A lot of people are counting on him. That said, between classes and during breaks he’s going to be checking his phone to see if you’ve messaged or left any missed calls. If you haven’t, he probably won’t text each time to check up on you, but he’ll send at least 1 text a day whilst out to see how you’re doing.

· When he gets home, he’ll make sure his brothers aren’t doing anything stupid where he can see them and then head to his room to see how you’re faring. When you start to get better, you can see him smile faintly with relief and he flops down on the bed beside you, graceful as ever but more relaxed than he’d been the last few days.

· When you’re well enough to eat and your fever is down, he stops worrying. He’s a bit irritable around this time, though - its not your fault. His brothers are all really excited that they can see you up and about again, and when you turn up for dinner after not being there for a few days, they’re all so loud he starts to think he might need a day off to deal with the headache it gives them.

· If his brothers start teasing him for being so worried for the last few days, he’s going to snap fairly quickly. Please don’t be offended - he was worried, he made it clear he was when he was around you.

 [Other brothers after the Read More]:

Mammon

· Close or not, he’s panicking. If you’re not close, it comes across as him teasing you about how weak you humans are, and he might come across as rude or inconsiderate. In reality, he really doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act, and he feels bad for it because Mammon is more emotionally in tune, and feels bad when others around him feel bad. He’s also just, trying to get more information - is it serious? Do you need a doctor? Should he go get Lucifer or even Lord Diavolo?

· Mammon isn’t the kind of person to wish harm on anyone, even if he doesn’t like them. When he finds out you’re sick, he’s going to quietly hope you get better soon, and then try and convince himself that he doesn’t care because you’re just some random human anyway. Still, he’ll be relieved once he hears that you start doing better, but the entire time you’re sick he’s worrying that you might die because humans are like that.

· If you are close... be prepared. Mammon is not leaving your side. He comes to wake you up in the morning and you seem more out-of-it than normal. Your face is flushed, so he checks your temperature with his forehead (its what he’s used to, he doesn’t even think to do it with his hand or arm). When he realises you’re much warmer than usual, he starts panicking.

· He’ll ask you about it first, but if you don’t give him clear answers or you seem a bit unsure, he’s going to go get Satan or Lucifer and bring them back to check up on you - he would go to Solomon, but he’s not close enough to him to predict how he’d react, and so leaves it as a last resort. If they give the all clear and say you just need a few days to recover, it relaxes him a little, but he’s still going to be on edge until you’re back to your usual self.

· Mammon is focused on comfort. When he’s sick he doesn’t want to be alone and he wants to be held. He’s either holding your hand, or laying right beside you with his arms around you, rubbing your back until you fall asleep. You’ll have to ask if you need anything like water or painkillers because he’s only going to leave if he really needs to eat, and if you’re physically being sick he’ll feel guilty but he’s not going to bring back any food because its impossible to predict how the Devildom food will interact with your illness.

· The first time you truly hear him snap at Lucifer probably happens whilst you’re sick - Lucifer comes to tell him he needs to go to class, because he’s missed too many lessons, and initially Mammon will plead with him and promise to attend every class for the next month no matter what, all pride thrown out the window because you’re important to him. If Lucifer still refuses to let him stay home, he’s going to get pissed. You shouldn’t be alone right now, and he’s adamant about that. It takes you quietly opening the door of your room, wrapped up in a blanket and flushed from the fever, to make the two stop arguing. When Lucifer sees you, he lets out a low growl and then leaves Mammon to do whatever he wants, filing an excused absence for the two of you.

· When you start getting better, Mammon lights up. You could swear he’s got stars locked away in his eyes that first morning you wake up and you seem almost back to normal. He keeps an eye on you, still, but his nerves finally die down a bit and he feels like he can breathe again. He’s grinning every time he looks at you, because he really is so happy you’re doing better, but if you bring it up or tease him he’s going to pout and refuse to speak.

· When you’re completely recovered, he might seem distant for a day or two - he needs to fall back into his normal schedule, and he needs a good rest. He’ll be there for you if you come to him, but he’s not glued to your side like he usually is.

 Leviathan

· If you’re not close, he’s not going to know you’re sick unless someone posts about it in the group chat. Even then, he doesn’t pay any notice to it. You’ll get better. Whatever brother you’re close to will take care of you much better than he will anyway - that’s why you chose them, they’re better and more capable than him. Levi barely pays attention to anything at all for those few days, and spends most of his time holed up in his room with one distraction or another. He doesn’t understand why he feels lighter when you’re back at breakfast again, but he does. He keeps an eye on you from then on, but nothing really changes.

· If you are close, he can’t define how he feels no matter how hard he tries. He’s worried, he knows that much, but you’ll get better, right? Was he qualified to take care of you, if you were seeking him out? Shouldn’t you just rest for a few days? Wouldn’t that be enough to help you? He honestly doesn’t have a clue what would actually help you feel better, and so won’t even think to get medicine or painkillers unless you ask him to.

· He has to view it as an opportunity to get the ball rolling - if you come to him for comfort, or he feels he can offer any, then he can spend the time you’re sick getting closer to you. He can show you that he might just be able to offer something, anything at all, to your relationship. But... in his room, please? He’ll carry you there if he needs to, he has to be able to feed Henry and relax where he’s surrounded by his comfort items and his fish-tank walls.

· His bathtub bed (and his room as a whole) is quite cool and helps keep his temperature down, so he’ll set you down in that. If he’s also not focusing on keeping himself warm, he can drop his temperature enough that even just having him rest a hand on your forehead lowers your temperature. It takes a lot of courage, but if you’re up for it, you can sit in his lap and marathon TSL and he’ll keep his cold arms around you so you’re not overheating. He almost cries if you fall asleep like that - do you really feel so safe and comfortable around him?

· If you’re being physically ill he won’t have a clue what to do. Its not something he has experience with, so he’ll probably just wait outside the bathroom and call Lucifer to see what he says. When you come out he’s in pieces, tears in his eyes as he wraps his arms around you and holds you there. He’ll ask if there’s anything you want him to do if it happens again, and whilst it might make him feel a little ill himself, he’s willing to rub your back or hold back your hair if you need him to.

· If he’s asked to go to class or to a student council meeting, he’s reluctant to leave you alone. He makes sure you’re all set with TSL on and a handheld game system within reach, and a glass of water, and enough blankets and pillows... he’s nervously darting about the room making sure things are perfect. Right before leaving, he hesitantly kisses the top of your head and leans down to talk to Henry. “You have to take care of them, okay?”

· When he’s not around you, he’s nervous and unfocused. Where he’d usually spend his time glued to his phone so that he didn’t have to focus on the world around him, he now just stares off into the distance. He walks faster to make it feel like time is moving a little quicker, and the second he’s free, he rushes back to his room to check on you.

· When you start getting better, Levi in part wonders if anything he did helped. It was probably the doctor, or maybe one of his brothers came in whilst he was gone and helped, but all it takes is a ‘thank you’ from you and he’s tearing up. He wraps his arms around you until he’s too flustered to keep holding on. He still doesn’t want to let you out of his sight.

· It does end up being a bonding experience - Levi trusts himself a little more around you. He thinks that even if he’s not the best, you’re still open to his presence, and he’s not bothering you all the time. He finds himself closer to you, asking if you want to hang out more, and he’s more open after the whole experience. Really, an experience like this is the perfect way to break down some of the walls he’s built, so being sick isn’t all bad in the end up.

 Satan

· If you’re not close, Satan will offer advice he’s found in books to you or whoever is taking care of you. He’s the most willing to help even if you’re not that close, because he has knowledge on the subject that the others lack. If a doctor isn’t available, he’ll be the one to check your temperature and ask about your symptoms and give a general diagnosis on the problem. If other brothers aren’t sure what to do, he is one of the first they call for advice after asking Lucifer (they think Satan might be better at dealing with it, but Lucifer is responsible for your safety and well-being, so the brothers view it as being necessary to keep him updated and get his opinion. Otherwise, they would usually go to Satan first and only to Lucifer if it was serious and/or you needed time off school.)

· The most he’ll offer in such a case is advice, though. You won’t get any real comfort from him, unless you call him and are clearly distressed, in which case he may offer some generic words of comfort over the phone before he calls someone you’re closer to and tells them to go take care of you.

· If you are close, he’s still going to be checking your symptoms, but he’ll be closer - instead of hovering over you from a distance, he’ll sit beside you on your bed and press a hand to your forehead and cheek instead of rushing to get a thermometer, and if you lean against him, he’ll put an arm around you whilst he asks about how you’re feeling.

· He’s one of the few brothers who prefers for you to stay in your own room - he’s aware that being physically ill is common for humans, and he can’t have you being sick on his books. Also, his room is too messy to fathom trying to take care of you properly. He ends up setting up a corner of your room for him to relax in whilst you’re recovering, with a selection of blankets and some pillows that Belphie was willing to lend him, so long as he washes them before returning them. Satan brings a couple of books and settles there until you’re better. He’s aware that he won’t get ill, and so doesn’t worry about proximity to you. He just thinks you might want your own space.

· If you ask him to, he’ll cuddle up beside you or sit beside the bed and read to you. His voice is low and steady and relaxing, and if it helps you sleep, he feels quite proud. He often ends up falling asleep right beside you, and it takes a moment for him to come around again when he wakes up. A lot of time is passed that way, with the two of you napping or him curled up in the corner in his impromptu fort, reading, as you rest.

· He’s not proud of it, but he finds it almost enchanting if you’re moody whilst sick. Its entertaining to him, and he wants you to get better, but he’ll still analyse your mood and actions the entire time you’re ill to see what makes you react in certain ways. He’s not intentionally provoking you, he promises, he’s just curious by nature.

· He asks a lot of questions in general - about how you feel, about what you think of a certain topic, about the human world. He’s trying his best to provide some sort of distraction for you, and the second you furrow your brows or start to look distressed, he produces another question or topic for the two of you to discuss or mull over instead. If it gets to a point where you stop answering, he’ll sit beside you and run a hand through your hair with an uncertainty similar to someone petting a cat that isn’t quite friendly yet. He wishes he could offer more comfort somehow, but Satan isn’t sure how he’s supposed to do that, so he just ends up acting like he normally does with short bursts of extra contact if they appear to help.

· If you’re physically sick, he’ll hold your hair back and then sit you down and get you a glass of water. Sips only, he reminds you - if you gulp it down, you’ll just be sick again. He’s practical, and he reminds you of anything he feels necessary when you’re ill - “don’t do this, it’ll make it worse” and “how about you try this, it might make it better?” become common phrases. He’ll listen to what you have to say, but will still gently coax you towards whatever advice he’s following out of a book if he can, because surely something has to help?

· When asked to leave for class, Satan complies without an argument, but he does notably struggle to maintain his composure when he remembers that you’re alone and suffering. Still, he reminds himself, if he goes to class he can tutor you on whatever you’ve missed when you’re better. So long as no one pisses him off, it’ll be alright. He checks up on you when he gets home, and realises that as long as you have everything you need before he leaves, that he can leave for short periods of time so as not to disrupt his schedule too heavily. He only really does so to go to school or cook, but knowing he can do that leaves him much less stressed than most of the other brothers, and he ends up a lot more organised too when you’ve recovered.

· When you start to get better, he tries to help get your school work out of the way as quickly as possible so that you’re not falling too far behind. He’ll still encourage you to relax and take it easy, but you’ll be caught up in no time with his help. He also prepares foods that are lighter when its his turn to cook so that you don’t distress your recovering system too much. Satan seems calm, and the next time you feel under the weather, he now knows exactly how to react to bring the least stress to both of you. He’s definitely the fastest to adapt.

· Bonus: You absolutely steal his heart if you ramble whilst somewhat out of it. Especially if none of your thoughts really connect but you’re trying to tell him something, anything that pops into your mind. He sits by your bed and rests his arms on it, with his chin propped up on them as he looks at you and listens intently, smiling the entire time.

 Asmodeus

· If you’re not close, Asmo won’t really do anything. You might get a simple ‘get well soon, honey x’ text, and that’s about it, or maybe some moisturiser with a note about how you should still take care of your skin even if you’re under the weather. Asmo keeps his distance and goes about his days as normal, without any real concerns or worries. You’ll get better, he doesn’t have to stress himself out over some human.

· If you are close, he’s all over the place for the first few hours. He makes sure your bed is comfortable, being the only brother other than Satan who wants you to stay in your own room so that there aren’t human germs all over his, and so that if he needs to, he can have his own time in his room. He’ll give you the comfiest pyjamas he can find that still look ridiculously stylish, and will ask if you want any help changing with a suggestive smirk, but any offers he makes are fully genuine - if you want his help changing, no funny business, he’ll absolutely do it.

· He’s not worried about getting sick, so Asmo stays physically close, but he’s also just not interested in being intimate with someone who is ill. Because of this, you get a break from his more suggestive nature. He’ll press soft kisses to your forehead when he’s trying to get you to relax or sleep, but that’s the only kisses you’re getting until you’re better and there isn’t a trace of your fever left.

· You may not feel great but your hair is going to look great, because he focuses on it. There’s an intimate comfort in having someone wash, dry, play with, and style your hair, and he hopes its enough to help you feel a little better. If you seem distressed his hands go to your hair, and he runs his fingers through it gently. If it’s messy or hasn’t been washed, he’s going to offer to help you bathe, but if you’re too unwell he’s going to prop you up in a chair, swaddled up in a blanket, and he’ll handle your hair. While he’s at it, he’ll wash your face and apply moisturiser to your face, hands, and arms. He quietly tells you something about how feeling cleaner can make you feel healthier.

· He’s not forceful about anything. It’s the first time he’s cared about anyone almost as much as he cares about himself, his first time putting someone before him, so he treats you like he’d treat himself. He knows that when he’s sick he sometimes really just wants to rest and be cared for, so he’ll do that for you. He rubs your back and tells you to let it all out, to complain if you have the energy to, and he’ll listen to everything you say. He tries his best to focus on you anyway, but when you’re sick and you ramble and whine, he couldn’t focus on anything else if he tried; he’s startled to realise just how important it is to him that he understands how you’re feeling in that moment so that he can make it better.

· He’s actually pretty good at attending classes, and because his attendance is high, Lucifer is more willing to let him have the few days off whilst you’re ill so he can look after you. Asmo leaves every now and then to wash, eat, exercise, or just to stretch his legs and have a bit of a break, but he does try to spend as much time as possible with you. Sometimes he’ll sit by the bed and scroll through Devilgram and read out posts to you or show you anything he thinks you’ll like.

· When you get better, he books a full spa day for the two of you - it helps to wash away any remaining traces of the illness, without being too overwhelming. It also helps him - its going to take a long time for him to get used to taking care of others, but he thinks its all worth it at the end of the day.

 Beelzebub

· Close or not, Beel is at least a little concerned. Being sick is one of the worst things that could happen in his opinion, and the second you stop showing up for meals, he notices and asks about you. He finds out what’s happened from another brother, and worries the entire time he doesn’t see you. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’ll tell whatever brother you’re close with to stay by your side as much as they can so you don’t feel too lonely. He’s relieved when you show up again, and will try to get closer to you so he can be closer to you next time you’re ill.

· If you are close, he’s at your door the second he realises you’re ill, and carries you back to his room if you’re comfortable. You’re wrapped up in blankets with as many pillows as Beel could coax Belphie into giving him, and he’s ready to take care of you as best he can. To him, this just involves staying glued by your side. He’s roped Belphie into helping, so that when he does have to leave, Belphie is by your side holding your hand in his place. Outside of that, Beel tries his best to only leave if you’re resting.

· He initially planned to have Belphie bring him food when he needed it, but then he felt too guilty because he couldn’t give you any and it might make you feel nauseous. Whilst you’re ill, no food is allowed in the twins’ room because of this.

· Beel is large and warm, making him perfect for cuddles. As mentioned in a previous post, the one issue is that if one of you is already feverish, you’re liable to overheating, and so Belphie has to set up a fan to keep you at a more reasonable temperature. With this in place, Beel lays down and wraps you up in his arms and stays there for as long as he can. He’s not one for words, but he’s happy to listen if you want to complain, or with some prompting, he’ll talk about his past and about what he and Lilith and Belphie got up to when they were angels in the Celestial Realm. If you still overheat, he kneels down by the bed and holds one of your hands in both of his, gently playing with your fingers and tracing shapes over the back of your hand idly as he speaks or listens.

· He checks your temperature regularly with his forehead, desperate for any sign of recovery, and sheepishly kisses it afterwards as an apology for disturbing you. Every time he leaves he comes back with a fresh glass of water, and will hold it up for you to sip at - if you can’t eat, you at least need to drink a little. If you end up being physically ill, Beel holds your hair back and rubs your stomach carefully. He makes a steady, quiet whining noise in his throat the entire time without realising it because he’s so sad and concerned that you’re this ill. At this point, even if Lucifer or Satan has promised you’re going to be okay and you’ve been checked by a doctor, Beel is calling them to his room and making them check again.

· No one can convince him to leave for class. He’s reluctant to go to classes anyway, although he got a little better when the exchange programme started because he wanted to be wherever you were. However, now that you’re stuck at home, he’s determined to stay by your side no matter what - it should have started a fight between Beel and Lucifer, but Beel looks at him once with those sad, puppy-dog eyes, and Lucifer lets him be. He wouldn’t be able to focus in classes anyway.

· When you start getting better he prepares a lot of food for a feast, although he asks Satan first about what foods would be light enough for you to eat. Whatever you can’t eat, he will, he reminds you, so you shouldn’t feel too pressured to finish everything. He lets you return to your own room, and the two of you have a movie night together. Beel pulls you into his lap and hugs you close to him the entire time because he’s so happy he doesn’t really know how to express it. If you’re still tired or unwell he’ll alternate between feeding you and feeding himself, and when the movie ends he presses a kiss to the top of your head, letting you rest if you’ve fallen asleep - if not, he reluctantly gets up to put on whatever you’d chosen to watch next, and then cuddles up with you and runs a hand through your hair until you fall asleep.

 Belphegor

· Belphie doesn’t really pay any attention to you if you two aren’t close. He barely even knows you’re sick, and only picks up on whatever his brothers say around him. He doesn’t think about it too hard and goes about his days as normal, and his thoughts only drift towards the topic when he’s alone in the attic and can’t sleep. He briefly wishes for you to get better soon in his head, and then immediately denies that he ever thought about you and forces himself to move on from the topic.

· If you are close, good luck. Belphie’s motto for being sick is that the more you sleep, the sooner you’ll get better. There’s some truth to it, but he’s quite extreme. You’re carried to the attic the second you’re ill and dumped unceremoniously on a large nest of pillows and throws. Belphie flops down beside you and wraps his arms around you and tells you to close your eyes.

· His sin’s influence may not work well on you, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to make use of it anyway - he focuses hard and puts whatever spare energy he has into trying to make you sleep and have peaceful dreams, warding away nightmares for the entire time you’re ill. It works enough that sleep finds you easily, but for the brief periods where you are awake, you’re going to feel pretty dreadful because you’ve overslept so much and your body is crying out for some care. It takes time and effort to extract yourself from Belphie’s arms to be able to go get some water or go to the bathroom.

· If this becomes distressing, Belphie will listen when you shake him awake and tell him that you want to stay awake now for a while. He curls up beside you, the two of you facing each other, and smiles tiredly. There’s a comfortable silence in the room, only broken when one of you voices something or when Belphie yawns. If heavily prompted, Belphie might tell old, old stories of his past, and what humans were like long ago when he first visited the human realm. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes to talk, holding your hands together between the two of you, trying to create a calming aura so that you don’t feel too bad.

· If you’re going to be physically ill, Belphie brings a bin or bucket of some kind to the attic and encourages you to aim for that. There’s no formality to it and he sounds almost uncaring, but the second you have to make use of it he’s standing by you, worry filling his features as he tries to figure out how to make you feel better. He hesitantly pats your back but leans away as far as possible because the smell is a little too much for him. He’ll help you rinse out your mouth and then lay you down again, begging you not to be sick on his pillows whilst he goes and cleans out the container.

· You get better quickly with Belphie, the sleep working its magic. Because of how quickly you are recovering, Belphie is allowed to stay with you to help you get better so that you don’t end up missing too much school. He’s already missed so much that another day or two doesn’t really matter in the long run, and it won’t be noticeable when added to the pile of schoolwork he has sitting in the corner of his room that he’s slowly working his way through with you.

· Belphie has this gentle smile on his face every time he looks at you, his hair an absolute mess. You’re welcome to stay in the attic for as long as you need to, but Belphie becomes unresponsive as he tries hard to build back up the energy he used helping you rest. Its your turn to ‘take care of’ Belphie now, which mostly just involves letting him rest his head on your shoulder, chest, or lap and running a hand through his hair as he naps.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hiiiii Booouuunncccceeeeyyyyyy 🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️

Could I get a wee story, where Jaskier (who has a chronic illness/fatigue) feels weak and just needs a cuddle, but he's trying hes best to keep walking for Geralt. Geralt knows that sometimes he needs rest and just tells him he's okay and settles him🥺❤️

ooooooh yeah baybee

tw: chronic illness/fatigue, past injury mention (not graphic)

---

Jaskier glares down at the ground before him as if that will make the slow and terrible ache crawling its way up his spine more bearable. It doesn’t. 

Of course it fucking doesn’t. 

It hadn’t been so bad in the morning but now, after several long hours of walking and carrying his lute, his body is on fire. He’s desperate to sit down and take a break or even lay down for awhile, but that would inconvenience Geralt. The last thing Jaskier wants to do is inconvenience his beloved Witcher. He has to prove himself a worthy traveling companion, after all, and stopping so early in the afternoon to rest would be silly. It would eat up too much precious sunlight.

Jaskier, so focused on keeping his outward reactions from becoming suspicious, falls silent. Geralt notices. He also catches a few wayward whiffs of misery and pain on the breeze, like rotten fruit and burnt sugar. Horrible, he thinks. And even more horrible that they’re coming from Jaskier.

The Witcher slows his horse to a stop and slides from her back, his booted feet barely making a sound as they hit the packed dirt of the road. “What’s wrong, bard? You’re too damn quiet.”

“First I’m too noisy and now I’m too quiet?” Jaskier huffs playfully, his eyes crinkling in agony even as he smiles through the pain. “What will it take to please you, master Witcher?”

“The truth, Jaskier. Now.” Geralt doesn’t mean to sound so authoritative and angry but it can’t seem to be helped. He cares deeply for the bard and he’s disappointed in both of them (but mostly himself) for not stopping to deal with this sooner. 

“It hurts,” the bard admits, voice high and pinched. “E-Everything hurts. Walking is...”

“Let’s stop for the night, then. Come here,” Geralt says. Before Jaskier can protest, the Witcher lifts him into a sturdy bridal carry. He whistles for Roach and heads off the trail, into the woods. “Been around here before. There’s a cave nearby. We can stay there for the night.”

“I’m so sorry, Geralt. I didn’t mea-”

“Hush,” the Witcher smiles, only darkening the blush staining Jaskier’s cheeks. “It’s okay. You need to rest and you should rest. Walking through the pain doesn’t make it any easier, Jaskier. It just hurts. I don’t... I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”

“Oh,” the bard breathes. His gaze breaks away from Geralt’s as he lowers his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

The Witcher builds him a warm fire and feeds him and rubs his sore back with strong, careful fingers that leave him in a moaning pile of limbs. He cares for Jaskier all through the afternoon and into the night, holding the bard gently as he sleeps. 

“I understand what you mean,” Jaskier mutters, half-asleep. “When you hum like that, all noncommittally. You’re saying I love you in whatever strange language Witchers have.”

“Not Witchers,” Geralt replies, not disagreeing in the slightest. “Just me. And just you.”

“Alright then,” Jaskier snuggles closer, burying his face in the crook of Geralt’s warm neck. The Witcher shivers pleasantly and tightens his arms around Jaskier’s waist. 

“Hmm.”

Jaskier falls asleep smiling, the smell of pain overwhelmingly displaced by the honey-lavender scents of contentment and love.

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Pro Heros Comforting an S/O with various chronic illnesses

All Might/ Yagi Toshinori

For being a chronically ill person, you were a big baby about being sick. Well, for you, there was two types of ‘being sick’. One, the usual, was the everyday upkeep of your body, with the usual minimal discomfort of working a machine with missing or loose parts. On the other hand, another type of ‘sick’ would be you hunched over the toilet, or sweating in bed with a trashcan by your face, or sobbing in the shower because of how shit you feel. 

Today was one of those sick sick days. 

You never admitted to anyone when you were having an especially hard day like today, sometimes not even yourself. In between bouts of puking up the small amount of food you should’ve been able to keep down, you’d convince yourself that it was just because it was stale, or that this was a fluke, or even try telling yourself that you were over reacting. 

So when your boyfriend gently asked if you were feeling okay to be home by yourself, you enthusiastically replied, “of course I am! Go ahead and go to work, I’ll be fine!”

So, he did. 

And you were definately not fine. 

Mere moments after he left, you were hovering over the toilet bowl, heaving up bile. You screamed at your body to just stop, to please just give up, but it couldn’t hear you. Instead, it did what it knew how to do best: be sick.

Finally, it was over, and you found refuge pressed up against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. 

You were a mess of sweat, tears, snot, and puke. 

Thinking of that just made even more tears stream out of your puffy eyes. 

Pathetic. 

You shakily turned on the shower. Maybe a cold shower will snap you out of it. Your clothes didn’t matter; they’re just pajamas. So, you crawled into the shower, looking for refuge. 

The ice cold water pelted your blanched flesh mercilessly, providing both relief and shock to your system.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to ignore your cramping abdomen and pay attention to the cool, refreshing liquid rolling down your back. 

In the end, though, you couldn’t focus on either of these things. 

Someone knocked at the bathroom door. By the way the person knocked, light and inquisitive, you knew it had to be him. 

He called out your name.

“Are you okay in there? Something told me to come check on you one more time,” he asked through the door. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He knocked again, a little harder this time. 

Still, you didn’t have the strength to respond. You rested your head onto the shower wall weakly. 

The doorknob wiggled noisily before he was in. 

“Oh, honey...” he murmured as he fully understood the situation. He flushed the toilet and opened the window to let in some fresh air. 

“I’m going to open up the shower now, okay?” 

He carefully pulled back the curtain and turned off the water. His heart panged to see you struggling like this. 

Like him.

He took a moment to cradle your cheek in his palm, cooing your name.

“I’m going to get you some fresh clothes. Don’t try standing up by yourself, okay? I’ll be right back,” he instructed gently. You nodded weakly.

He returned with some fresh pajamas and a towel. You shook your head.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he inquired, stroking your hair. You couldn’t help but begin to cry. It was so humiliating being taken care of. Hell, even needing to be taken care of was degrading. 

You squeaked out tiny words between sobs. He patiently tried his best to understand what had you so upset, but he just couldn’t hear you. 

So, his only chioce was to continue to clean you up. 

Gently, ever so gently, he dried you with the towel as best as he could with your soaked clothes on.

“Pumpkin, I hate to ask you this, but...can I take off these clothes to help you get into new ones? I promise I won’t look.” 

You sobbed pitifully. 

“I...Let me...let me try,” you managed to get out. He nodded.

“I’ll be right outside the door. Knock if you need any help at all,” he assured, kissing you sweetly on the forehead before leaving you alone. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to see you naked; he already had done that. It was just...you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Shakily, you stood up, grabbing the clothes. Your feet stepped out of the tub, only supported on shakey knees.

Knees that gave up on you.

Within an instant, you were collapsed onto the floor. You gasped at the impact, the wind being knocked out of you.

Toshinori was by your side before you could blink. He helped you sit up, asking tenderly if you were in any pain. You shrugged.

He sighed deeply.

“I...I’m so... sorry. You shouldn’t-“ you stammered before he shut you down.

“No. I should. It’s okay for you to need help. I understand. It’s not an inconvenience.”

“...but... your job... your students...”

“They’ll be fine. Right now, let me focus on you,” he asserted. You nodded, allowing him to undress and towel dry you before redressing you.

“Can you stand?” He asked. You thought for a moment before shaking your head. Instantly, the bathroom filled with smoke, and he appeared to you in his much more muscular form in order to carry you.

He being sick himself could never hope to carry you in his skinnier state.

You didn’t care however he looked. It was just that he was there. That he cared.

You were carried bridal style to your bed, and placed down ever so gingerly. Smoke surrounded you once again, cradling you for a moment before dissipating and revealing your boyfriend in his true form.

He leaned against the bed frame, coughing into a tissue.

A pang of guilt hit you, seeing how he’d sacrificed just a tiny bit of himself to keep you comfortable.

You pushed the guilt away, replacing it with warm love.

Instead of apologizing, you murmured a “Thank you.”

Aizawa Shouta

Today was a good day. Your joints weren’t achey, and you felt good enough to even go to the store with your boyfriend. Usually, he’d go by himself, or do a curb side pickup to save time, but you insisted that you wanted to go.

“Sho, please. I’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” he replied skeptically. He knew your fighting spirit coming through when he saw your determined eyes, so he knew his words were of no use. However, he also was deeply worried about the pain that could show up later on that night.

Those were the hardest on Aizawa. He usually wasn’t home at night, so when he’d come into the bedroom and see the bedsheets strewn across the floor and your pain medications sitting idly on your dresser, the cap on sideways, he’d be instantly racked with guilt. He wanted to be there for you. Even if it meant seeing you in pain. He just wanted to be able to do whatever he possibly could to help alleviate things just a little for you.

Today, though, he relented, and you found yourself at the local grocery store. You chose to not bring your cane, opting to try to pretend that you were a perfectly healthy young person.

Bad idea.

About half way through your shopping trip, you could feel the beginnings of a flare up.

“Sho... Could you help me?”

He instantly took on your weight on one arm.

“Do you need to go home?” He asked quietly as to not stir the other customers. You shook your head.

“I’ll get you something. Hold on.”

And like that, he was gone and you were alone in the bread aisle.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Stupid! You should’ve known better!

It wasn’t long before he was back, riding on a mobility scooter. He stood up, gesturing towards it.

You knew it’d help, but...

“What will people think?” You whimpered before you could even think about it.

He scoffed.

“Geez, baby. I hope you realize that other people’s opinions should never trump your own comfort.”

You nodded, still anxious about how it’d look for someone like you to be using something like that.

“But...what if someone actually needs it?” You ask as you guide yourself into the seat.

“You need it. It’s okay,” he reassured plainly.

That night, you had no pain. All your body was filled with was butterflies as Aizawa gently cuddled you to sleep.

Sir Nighteye/Mirai Sasaki

You’ve always been sick. It was a part of your identity that you’d come to terms with. Sure, your life was shaped different than everyone else’s, but you didn’t mind much. 

You brewed yourself some tea, breathing in the fresh steam from the kettle. The warm air made its way past your oxygen tube, warming you from the inside out. Today was going to be a good day. You could tell that much by the light rays of sun filtering past the blinds, and the way you weren’t a coughing mess by now. Usually, you were signaled to remember to take your meds and do your treatments by your own sputtering and coughing, but today, things were going a little different so far. 

Your boyfriend came into the kitchen, stretching a little, causing his bones to crack and pop. He retrieved his black coffee from the pot, lightly and lovingly brushing his hand across your upper arm as he moved. 

You instantly tensed up.

“Don’t do that,” you frowned, glaring at him, “it’s too early in the morning to think about that yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“Your quirk. Don’t use it on me.”

He put both hands up, “If you wish for me not to touch you, I won’t.”

“That’s...not what I’m asking for and you know it.”

He allowed himself a tiny smile. He did know that. 

You turned around, moving your attention back to your tea. Mirai stared at you lovingly as he sipped on his drink. 

Two sugar cubes plopped into the tea, honey and lemon being stirred in next. Just how you like it.

Just as you were getting enveloped in the whirlpool you made with your spoon, Mirai broke your train of thought.

“Today’s going to be a good day,” he murmured.

[dolliedarlin]

s a f e  i n  h i s  a r m s ⏤katsuki b. 

s u m m a r y : after rescuing you during a rescue exercise gone wrong, now Bakugou can't shake you off from clinging onto his arm.

l e n g t h : 2.9k

g e n r e : fluff

w a r n i n g s : cursing from our beloved explosion boy

p a i r i n g : bakugou katsuki x f.reader

a / n : this idea came out of nowhere so instantly got to writing it. i'm sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. this honestly gives me Juvia and Gray vibes from Fairy Tail...they were my favorite couple after all so, yeah...even reader has a water quirk -oopsie! whelp! we can see where my inspiration comes from at least. enjoy they read my lovelies!

It all started when Bakugou saved you during a rescue exercise that went horribly wrong for you.

The ceiling had collapsed from above you and, no matter how fast you were at trying to avoid the falling debris, it was still able to trap your leg. With it's crushing weight, several bones in your leg were snapped, leaving you vulnerable and immobile. Your horrifying cry of pain could be heard throughout the building as it bounced off the walls, alerting your classmates, who were sent into an instant panic.

Most of them had traversed through the fragile maze left by the torn-down structure as you had stubbornly stayed behind to ensure that everything transpired smoothly behind your teammates. With the frail state of the infrastructure, it was difficult for your team to travel back to your location without possibly triggering further collateral damage that could potentially cause further harm to you.

Things weren't looking their brightest.

The pain in your leg had crawled up the rest of your body and paralysed you with its stinging bite. It almost brought tears to your eyes but you had to be strong, you couldn't just sit around and wait for help. That isn't what a future hero should do. With the dry air around you, you wouldn't be able to use your quirk so you got started on trying to push away the sizable chunk of ceiling that had trapped your leg beneath it yourself.

It didn't take long before you realised that your attempts were futile. Judging from the way your arms shock under the weight as you awkwardly gripped at the ceiling fragment, you wouldn't be able to get out on your own. Losing hope, you let your tears accumulate to the surface of your eyes and were just about to let them flood over your lashes when an explosion broke a hole in the wall to the right of you. The instant you turned to its direction, your (e/c) orbs met with the piercing red eyes of Bakugou. The explosive blonde didn't say anything and just hurried to your side with a scowl, easily lifting the weight off of your leg before delivering a blast that pushed the hard stone ceiling over onto it's back. You were about to say your thanks when the blonde saw the state of your leg and grumbled as he picked you up in his arms and made a run for the exit he had made.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, primarily because the jumbled emotions you were going through was hard to process individually as well as conjointly. However, one thing that you were sure of as you stared up at the frowning blonde carrying you in his arms, was that you had never felt safer than in that moment.

After that day, the way you acted around Bakugou was never the same.

You never really had a fixed friendship group. Sometimes you would sit with Midoriya and his friends, sometimes with the Bakusquad, sometimes with the rest of your classmates (but not Mineta) and even with those from class 2B. However, you were beginning to hang around the Bakusquad more and more after the incident of your rescue.

None of them really complained about it, not even Bakugou, in fact, they loved that you were spending time with them, especially Mina as she finally had another girl to help her through the other boys' antics. It was a surprising thing coming from her, seeing as she partook in mischievous antics of her own from time to time, sometimes, even joining in with Kaminari and Sero's playful pranks.

Truthfully, you seemed to be the only other level-headed person aside from Kirishima in Baukgou's eyes so, although he was grumbling under his breath at first, he wasn't too opposed at your newly established presence amongst the group of 'annoying weirdos that followed him around'.

This was a good sign for you and helped you to quickly get comfortable around the blonde.

Nobody knew this about you at the time but you're actually a very affectionate person, you just haven't been able to find someone to direct that affection towards so you've been a bit touch-staved. That was getting fixed really soon, however, because, now, you know exactly who to shower your affection on.

It started with little things such as simply standing closer to Bakugou than usual. He would throw you a narrowed glare but after you flashed him a smile, he would relent with a huff as he turned his attention away from you. It didn't take long for him to get used to you being so close but the instant he had grown familiar with your close proximity, you gave him a reason to send another harsh stare and growl your way.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing to my hand you stupid extra?!" he snapped at you, almost showering you in saliva from the way he was shouting in your face.

"Holding your hand," you replied bluntly, flashing a wide grin up at him with your eyes closed. In protest, the explosive blonde tried to tug your hand away, shouting demands for you to let go. This is when he realised that you had suddenly grown a monstrous amount of strength as he wasn't able to successfully pull his hand away from you. In fact, his tugging had the opposite effect and encouraged you, to not only, interlace your fingers with his but also to hug his arm to your chest using your other hand.

"GET OFF ME!"

"Don't you like holding my hand, Bakugou?" you asked with an endearing pout and subtle whine in your voice as you looked up at him with big teary eyes.

"NO! I DON'T!" his hopes of getting you to let go proved futile as you just continued to smile and hold him tightly. Eventually, he gave up and let you cuddle his arm throughout the school day, glaring at the people that dared to look and point. Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina all commented on his laughable position, chuckling under their breath at how it didn't suit him to be so close and affectionate with a girl.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! SAY THAT AGAIN YOU BASTARDS AND I'LL BLAST YOUR FACES OFF!" he was about to chase them down as they shouted and ran away from him, their laughter hanging in the air. If only you weren't still hugging his arm.

"Don't do that Bakugou," you pouted and pressed your cheek into his shoulder.

"Hah?" he gave you a look of offended confusion. No one dared to keep him from beating up those idiots, who called themselves his friends, before.

"I'll have to let go of your arm if you do that,"

Bakugou doesn't know why but he didn't put up much of a fight after seeing how dejected you looked at the idea of having to let go of his arm.

As time progressed, many people grew bolder in teasing Bakugou as your holds on the male grew even more restricted, which gave them ample time to run away if need be.

One day, when you had been cuddling into Bakugou's side whilst hanging out in the common room with the rest of his group, Kaminari couldn't hold back his jealousy at the fact that someone as ill-tempered as Bakugou was getting more attention from a girl than he was.

"I can't believe you get cuddles from (Y/N) every day, Bakugou," Kaminari began as you giggled in return, "It's Not Fair!" the electric emitter cried with tears in his eyes.

"Then you have her!" Bakugou barked, attempting to pry you off him just to throw you at Kaminari as you flashed the explosive boy an extremely upset expression.

"No!" you cried, clinging onto him as tightly as possible, "I only wanna cuddle Bakugou!"

At this, the explosion quirk user sighed in exasperation and slumped back into his seat on the sofa, letting you sit on his lap and nuzzling into his chest as his arms stayed immobile at his sides. In the background, Kirishima set about comforting Kaminari as Mina and Sero laughed at the comical scene before them.

Your need to cuddle and be close to Bakugou didn't stop there, however, you even had the guts to embrace him at inconvenient times.

There were instances where Bakugou would be cooking dinner in the dorm kitchen and you'd come up to hug him from behind. His only response to your embrace, after you had done this to him time and time again, was to continue cooking and to cook enough for the two of you.

The first few times you were valiant enough to bring the red-eyed temper teen into your arms, he had put up his usual fight before ultimately giving up. The case would be that you'd skip up to him with your usual close-eyed smile, pull him into a hug that he wouldn't return as he'd do his best to continue whatever it was that he was doing, treating you like dead-weight hanging off his torso. Sometimes, he needed to throw you over his shoulder or carry you in his arms to be able to do whatever he had to do properly.

Take for example, walking up a set of stairs, he would throw you over his shoulder and make his way up the steps as quickly as possible to ensure that fewer people saw. Times when you had been particularly eager to stand beside him, even when he's training, he'd use you for practice.

It started off as your idea, actually.

"Why don't you pretend that I'm an injured person and carry me in your arms as you run to safety?" you suggested as you held your arms out, smiling happily up at him. He was stubborn at first but eventually, he was carrying you in his arms as he ran laps on the UA track lines. It felt so good to be in his arms again that you would always end up nuzzling your face into his neck no matter how sweaty he got.

"Don't do that, idiot. I'm fucking sweaty!" he'd reprimand you often.

"But I like your sweat Bakugou,"

"HAH?!"

"It saved me that one time and I'm sure it'll save me and others many more times in the future too," you'll never forget the tomato-red blush his face flourished into that day.

Nobody knows why you came across as so persuasive to the blonde that he let you do whatever you wanted. However, from their observations and the speculation that stayed between the rest of class 1A ended up reasoning that Bakugou was too touch-starved to willingly fight you off him. It was cute. The two of you were secretly dubbed the cutest couple in class 1A despite not officially dating.

Your admirable persistence at staying beside Bakugou at all hours of the day has continued for several months, and now, Bakugou as well as the rest of your classmates, wouldn't be able to see you without seeing the explosive blonde close by. Often times, you would cuddle up to him on the common room sofas as he read a book or played the games he was forced into doing by his 'idiot' friends. Your interactions were amusing to watch and helped the rest of your classmates see a different side to Bakugou.

The desire you had to stay by Bakugou's side flourished and blossomed over the months as your initiation on being close to him made you learn more endearing things about him. He's very misunderstood so you're glad you took the time to get to know him.

"You don't mean to be mean, do you, Katsuki?" you whispered his name with the most affection and ever so gently as you reached up a hand to tenderly caress his sleeping face. He had managed to fall asleep with everyone else at a weekend night together. The previous week had been exhausting and so the Bakusquad suggested an evening of fun to lift the weight of stress off everyone's shoulders before another week of stress is piled on top of them again. "I sometimes wish more people can see the good in you," you continued, suppressing a yawn, "but I'm greedy,"

Bakugou will never admit that he heard your little confession that night as you slipped into the world of sleep cuddled into his chest atop him.

As of recently, you had been pestering Bakugou to hug you back whenever you went up to embrace him but he wasn't going to willingly comply until he found out why exactly you were being so clingy. He knows he isn't the best person to be affectionate with and that you somehow were able to see through that, not that he would ever admit to there being something deeper going on behind his constant untamable temper.

The blonde can see you with so many other guys who were more deserving of you than he was, like Kirishima and even that stupid Deku. No matter how irritated it made him feel to see you with other guys, he knows that it was ultimately better for you to be affectionate towards them than him. It didn't make sense to that someone like you was always so desperate to be beside someone like him.

The day he saved you during the rescue exercise was a one-time thing. That couldn't be your only reason. Bakugou needed to know your way of thinking and decide for himself if it was equitable enough to let you continue what you were doing or to push you towards someone else, whether you do it willingly or not, he didn't care. He needed to focus on becoming the number one hero, not you.

It wasn't until the class had another hero rescue exercise that Bakugou finally got an answer to the reasoning behind your behavior towards him.

Somehow, the two of you ended up trapped together. Bakugou could easily cause an explosion to get out but not without causing the rest of the building collapse atop both of you at a rate and amount that would overwhelm the explosion emitter. Your water emitting quirk was limited at the moisture in the dry air surrounding you so you wouldn't be able to help much if you wanted to.

Despite the dire situation, you were still smiling and moving about without a care in the world.

"What are you smiling about idiot?!" Bakugou snapped at you, his frustration at his helpless situation making him act out, what made it all the more infuriating, however, was knowing that you knew from the gentle and understanding smile you directed towards him.

"Because you're with me Bakugou," he was speechless, "whenever I'm with you, I know I'm safe so I can be calm and think of things rationally," your smile only grew at his stunned and blinking expression, it took a moment but a boost of Bakugou's ego was soon rushing in as he felt his heart do something weird in his chest. It made him blush but you didn't need to see that so he quickly turned away so that the only evidence of the blush on his face you witnessed was at the tips of his ears, "in fact, I think I have an idea on how to get out,"

Using your water quirk, you drew as much moisture from the air as you could before you took a limited amount from your lungs. You fashioned the water in your hands into a gentle drill that you then used to dig your way out from the building. You needed to take multiple breaks, however, as utilising water from your lungs required you to hold your breath but in no time at all, you and Bakugou were out and safe.

After that day, Bakugou finally hugged you back every time you embraced him.

He became less grumbly at the fact that you were always reaching out to touch and cuddle up to him, actually, he made it a point that you would only want to be close to him and no one else. Everyone practically saw the hidden smirk on his lips every time he pressed your happily smiling face into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, with his smirk all the boys around him he would glower at as if to stake his claim over you and the affection you were showering him with.

Bakugou could get used to this. He should've given you a chance earlier because he surprisingly liked having you wrapped up in his arms, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, your chest pressed up against his as your arms wrapped around his torso.

"Katsuki," you looked up at him as he grunted in return, maneuvering your face back into the junction between his shoulder and neck. It was a place that your face fit perfectly into and he needed you to always have your face pressed up against that area or else his neck would feel too exposed and naked, "since you're okay with hugging me back now..."

"What is it?" you didn't answer so he pulled away to look you in the eyes, "Spit it out,"

"Can I have a kiss?"

“Uh-“

n a v i . | bnha mlist

[agathasangel]

leave everything behind but me- part 1 (diane sherman x fem!reader)

Warnings: Diane is still extremely dangerous, TW for stalking, drugs, and illness (also brief vomit mention), hurt/comfort with a bit more hurt, this series may end up going in an NSFW direction but there isn’t any here, I really don’t know exactly where it’s going.

AU where pretty much everything in the movie is the same except the very last scene. Diane gets out of jail but isn’t able to find or contact Chloe. This is gonna be a series and probably way too long (I’m already writing part 2). Also I know there are a lot of Diane fics that are like this, sorry about that. But this is really fun to write so oh well. 

Summary: You finally got the courage to run away and start a new life. Diane gets out of jail. She can’t find Chloe, but created a bond with another girl, you. And she would never, ever lose you. After all, you need her.

You were finally doing this. You were leaving your home behind and never looking back. You never had a good relationship with your parents, and now that you had graduated High School your parents were constantly threatening to kick you out. So instead, you decided to just leave. You had found a town on the east coast (across the country from your home state) and you had saved all your money from your job for the bus tickets, and found a roommate online, Anna. until you had finally announced to your parents that you were moving out. They acted relieved, like a huge burden was just taken off of their plate. But you knew they were secretly upset that they no longer would have someone to blame every inconvenience on.

You sat on the bus, listening to music and looking out the window. You noticed a silver minivan that happened to have been following you almost all day and on two different buses. You wondered where the driver of the minivan was going. Maybe whoever the driver was was running away too, but was lucky enough to have a car.

The bus stopped in Chicago, about halfway to your destination, and you had an eight hour layover that you had to manage to stay awake for despite the fact that you hadn’t slept in the past 24 hours. You decided to go to a cafe that was next to the bus station to get some coffee to pass the time and keep you up.

“I’ll just have a large coffee with cream and 1 sugar, please.”

“Great! That’ll be three-fifty.”

You searched in your wallet before realizing that you were completely out of cash that wasn’t going towards your bus ticket or room.

“...never mind”

“Hey, I can pay for you, don’t worry about it.” Said the woman standing behind you.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry, its no big deal. Just come and sit with me.”

You had time. Besides, you wanted someone to talk to and this woman was quite attractive.

“Sure. Thank you.”

The woman ordered and led you to a table.

“So, what’s your name?”

“I’m (y/n). And you?”

You heard the barista say “Two coffees for Diane?” and the woman got up

“I guess that answers that?” you said.

Diane walked over to get the coffees and stirred in the cream and sugar into both of them.

She gave you one of the coffees and said “Yes, my name is Diane Sherman. Are you from around here?”

“Oh no, I’m from the west coast. I’m on a bus trip, moving across the country. Fresh start, you know. And you?”

“I have been too, actually. Well, except I’ve been driving. Why do you need a fresh start?”

“My parents and I have a rough relationship. I just graduated High School and I didn’t feel like there was a reason to stay. What about you?”

“I’m sorry about that, (y/n). I actually lost my daughter recently, I’ve been incredibly lonely. I’m hoping for a new start, and some new connections.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Diane, that’s terrible.” You wondered what happened to her daughter, but thought it was best not to pry into this woman’s life.

“I’ll get through it. Maybe I’ll find someone else I can take care of. Someone who really needs it.”

Diane asked you more questions about your family, life, interests, everything. You felt like this woman had a genuine interest in you that you never felt from anyone else. You liked it. But as you talked you realized that the coffee wasn’t waking you up, if anything you felt even more tired. Maybe you just had to wait.

“I haven’t slept in so long, I’m so tired. Thank you for getting this coffee for me. It was nice to meet you, Diane.” You said, sad that your paths may never cross again.

“(Y/n), wait.”

You turned back to her.

“I have an idea. I have a motel room with two beds for tonight. Why don’t you sleep there and we forget about the buses, you can just ride with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve bought a house and I’m going there, but I can take you wherever you’d like, there’s no rush. I understand you may be suspicious as a younger woman when an older person asks you to ride with them and stay in their hotel room but I promise I only ask because, well honestly, I’m lonely and need someone to take care of.”

It was probably the sleep deprivation, but you believed her. You got into her silver minivan and drove to a nearby motel. When you got in the room you immediately dropped all your stuff and flopped down onto the bed, exhausted.

“Hey, sweetie, you can shower in the morning if you want to but you should at least change into pajamas.” said Diane. You found the energy to take your clothes off and put on an oversized t-shirt as you listened to Diane sing in the shower. You fell asleep to the sounds of the running shower and the older woman’s slightly off-key singing.

When you woke up, Diane was reading and sipping some coffee. You noticed she had also gotten you one.

“Morning, sweetheart. Now, I’m not in much of a rush to get out of here so just take your time. Drink your coffee and then take a shower, alright?”

“Sounds good!” You said, starting to drink your coffee.

“Great. I’m looking forward to spending more time with you, (y/n). I think maybe we were destined to meet. You without loving parents and me, in desperate need of someone to love and care for.”

“Maybe..”

You couldn’t explain why, but you did like this strange woman. She seemed kind, and she was very pretty, which couldn’t have hurt. The only reason you said yes to her last night was because you needed sleep so badly but now that you were fully rested, you couldn’t say you regretted it. You walked to the shower and felt a bit lightheaded. While you were in the shower you started to feel weak and you finally fell over.

As soon as she heard the thud of your body to the shower floor, Diane ran into the bathroom.

“(Y/N)? What happened? Are you ok?”

“I... I fell... I don’t know why.” You said, a bit embarrassed of the woman seeing your naked body like this

“Ok, let’s get you dried off and dressed, then I think we have to get some food into you.” and Diane helped you up, helped you dry off and took out your most comfortable-looking clothes and put them on you. This whole thing made you feel like a child, but you almost didn’t mind. It’s not like you’ve ever been taken care of like this before.

“Lean on me if you need to, I’ll come back for the luggage after you’re in the car.” You held onto Diane’s arm all the way to the front seat of the car.

“Just wait here, okay love?”

She got both your suitcase and hers and but them back in the car. You noticed that her suitcase that was in your room was not the only one she had, and she in fact had several suitcases, and lots of bags. She was older and more established than you, of course she had more things than you did.

She drove until you found a diner where the two of you could get breakfast. She helped you out of the car and told her to at least hold her hand while you walked.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling this way, maybe eating something will make you feel better.”

“Yeah, I hope so. I’ve never felt like this before, I really hope I’m not sick.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

While you ate you talked, and Diane gave you a pill that she said might make you feel better. You took it and you did start feeling a little bit better. 

“Is it working? Do you feel ready to go?”

“I think so”

And so you left the diner with Diane feeling a little bit better. She kept her hands on you to guide you as you went to the car, just in case. 

“I’m ok now. But thanks, Diane.”

“Of course.” She grabbed your hand for a second and smiled at you and your heart skipped a beat. Why did you feel this way?

Diane drove for several hours until you fell asleep again. When she woke you up you were in a hotel parking lot in a small town you didn’t recognize.

“Where are we?”

“I think we’re somewhere in central Pennsylvania. We have a lot more driving to do, but it’s getting late. Let’s get some dinner and get you to bed.”

That night was relaxing and easy. Diane ordered room service and you ate while sitting on her bed together and watching a movie. The two of you began to cuddle and you ended up falling asleep in the older woman’s arms. When you stirred early the next morning she was still holding you.

When you woke up for real, Diane brought you some coffee. 

Diane got back on the road and she asked you where you planned on staying. You told her you were going to stay with a girl named Anna who you talked to online. As the car ride progressed, the weak feeling you had the other day started to come back.

“That’s ok. You can stay with me tonight if you want.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do. I want to make sure you’re ok, let me take care of you.” You figured that if Diane were dangerous, she would have tried to do something to you by now since you’ve basically been alone with her for almost two days. How bad could it be?

It turned out that the house Diane lived very close to Anna anyway, so you decided why not.

You drove another seven or so hours from the hotel all the way to a small house in a very cute little town not too far from where you had planned on settling in.

“This is it.”

You got out of the car and brought your stuff into the house. It was a cute, small place that was already furnished. You and Diane both looked around. There were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room and kitchen.

“It’s a good thing I got a two-bedroom, I guess. You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

“Thank you”“

“I’m gonna go out and bring some more stuff in and then I’ll make us some tea, does that sound good?”

“Sure.”

The two of you sat on the couch and talked while you drank the tea Diane made you. The tea didn’t taste bad, but it didn’t taste like anything you’ve had before. You told her more about your family life after she asked.

“Your parents were so lucky,” said Diane, who was getting a bit emotional, “to have a child as healthy and beautiful and sweet as you. There are so many people who would give anything to have what your parents took for granted.”

“I don’t know, maybe it is my fault. Maybe I was just a bad kid. Maybe I was hard to like, or dumb, or-”

“I don’t think you’re any of those things. And I’m sorry that you believe that, because it’s not true.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”  

You went to bed that night in your room and Diane in hers. When you woke up you felt weak and sick to your stomach. You guessed that Diane was wrong and you were in fact coming down with something.

“Diane!” You felt bad for possibly waking her up, but you’d feel even worse if you threw up on the sheets, and you didn’t know if you could make it to the bathroom. So you did it. She immediately came running to you.

“Are you ok, sweetie? What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m sick. Do you have a bucket or something?”

“Yes. Just one second.”

She left and very quickly brought back a bucket for you.

“I hope I haven’t gotten you sick too.”

“Don’t worry about that, I rarely get sick. Just let me take care of you.”

And you did. For the next few days as she looked for teaching jobs she nursed you back to health. Well, almost-health, at least. You weren’t having stomachaches or throwing up anymore but you still felt weak. She gave you pills and lots of them, and some might have had some bad side effects. All the pain medication she gave you almost had a numbing effect on your body. Anna had completely stopped responding to you and you worried she didn’t want to be roommates anymore, not like you could be on your own right now anyway in the state you were in. You needed Diane to take care of you. She was being interviewed for a position as a science teacher at the local High School but other than working on all of the application material she had all the free time in the world to be with you.

“Anna said she found another roommate.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that alright? You’re still sick and I really don’t mind you just... staying here and living with me. Besides, I really think I’m going to get this job and if I do I’ll easily be able to support the both of us.”

“Diane, you don’t have to... I applied for some jobs already.”

“None of which you can do when you’re sick, now please lie back down. I know you feel bad for letting me take care of you and baby you so much, but you don’t have to. I’ve already told you that I like having someone to take care of. And I know you like it when I take care of you too.”

And you hated to admit it, but she was right. Despite how horrible you felt physically, you enjoyed your time with Diane. You started doing a lot of fun things together. You both enjoyed yourselves, and Diane sometimes told you that she felt like she had a daughter again. She made you feel loved. You still had your own bed, but you often fell asleep on the couch or in Diane’s bed while the two of you cuddled.

“I love you, (y/n). My baby.” Diane said as you started to drift off on the couch with her that night.

[suddencolds]

even the tiniest drabble with kaeya and albedo where one of them has a cold would make me super happy. i don't even care which one is sick, really, but if you want something more specific i feel like albedo being the sick one could be cute? and albedo has a canon liking for dessert/sweet things so maybe kaeya brings him some hot chocolate????

Hi anon!! First, the mention of sweets is so cute?? I live for Kaeya knowing that and specifically bringing Albedo hot chocolate 😭 (Also to the one other anon who asked for Albedo sjfhajfsh), I’ve always wanted to try my hand at writing Kaebedo, so I hope you enjoy! <3

—

Albedo is in a hurry.

“Good morning,” he says, when Kaeya runs into him just outside Jean’s office. “Forgive me. I can’t stay to talk.”

“Good morning to you too,” Kaeya says. “Busier than usual?”

Up close, Albedo looks slightly off—he’s paler than usual, save for a flush high in his cheeks. Closer inspection reveals that he’s shivering, too, if only slightly.

“Much to get done,” Albedo says back. “I have another shipment I need to attend to.” Before Kaeya can find a chance to respond, he’s already turning, heading for the exit.

Kaeya sighs. “Albedo.”

Albedo turns on his heels, sniffing softly. “What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Kaeya asks, as nonchalantly as he can. Albedo looks surprised for a moment, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. Then he nods.

“I am fine, I promise. I think I’ve...” he trails off, his gaze going distant and indistinct, and ducks into his shoulder. “...hiih’TSCHh!... caught a cold, snf.” Albedo clears his throat; Kaeya almost misses the grimace that follows, the discomfort that catches in his eyeline for a split second, there and then gone. “I should be back to normal in three to five days. Until then, I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Should you be working if you’re ill?” Kaeya asks, skeptical. “If you’re just running deliveries, I can help you with that.”

“It’s only a cold. No fever, and no symptoms that would warrant any additional concern…” Albedo rubs his nose, sniffling into a raised fist. His breath catches again, sharply, without a release. He sighs.  “...I’m sorry. I should really go. I would have liked to stay to chat..”

Then he’s slipping out the door to the Knights’ headquarters, and Kaeya—who still has a day of work ahead of him—doesn’t follow. Still, it bothers him as he goes out with the Knights. It’s been a winter colder than most, and it can’t be much better on Dragonspine, which is cold enough already without taking into consideration the variations of the seasons.

Albedo is honest when it comes to things like this. Kaeya knows that if he says it’s really nothing, he will be fine.

But he’s well-enough acquainted with illnesses to know how simple colds can still be fairly miserable. Albedo had seemed well enough, but appearances can be deceptive, and a cold is a cold. The weather in Dragonspine can’t possibly be conducive to his recovery; Kaeya can’t imagine the stress from running errands is helping, either.

—

Days like this aren’t frequent, but they’re tiring. Albedo gets caught in a frenetic back-and-forth between the camp at the base of Dragonspine, his own laboratory campsite up in the mountains, and the Knights of Favonius Headquarters in Mondstadt, transporting materials from outpost to outpost, double-checking the packaging, informing Sucrose and Timaeus about how the more fragile—or perishable—items should be handled.

By the time he’s back at his campsite, the exhaustion is starting to catch up with him. There are torches, set up around the periphery of the campsite, and usually they do a fair job of keeping the campsite area warm. Today—maybe owing to the fact that it’s particularly windy, or maybe only because it’s a colder winter than usual—he finds that it’s not exactly the most comfortable place to work.

Albedo takes a seat on one of the crates. He’s certainly well enough to be here—the cold he’s caught is an annoyance, but he’s certainly worked through worse. His throat hurts when he swallows, and every few minutes he has to pause to sniffle, wipe his nose briefly into the handkerchief Lisa had insisted that he take, crane his head over his shoulder to cough in an effort to avoid contamination of the materials he’s been using in his alchemy.

It’s disruptive, in the most inconvenient of ways, and he’s not getting any better out here, but he has so many new orders to sort through. He has a new shipment of Fontaine’s specialties to investigate. Rest can wait.

It’s not long before he’s raising the handkerchief to his face—he suspects it will stop being useful soon, for how much he’s used it—in ticklish, agonizing anticipation.

“Hiih... hiIH’izZZSch!!”

He winces, sniffling. The sneeze is just wrenching enough to send pain lancing through his throat.

“HiiiH’GZSChh!” Now his nose is running too, which is even worse. Still, he can’t bear to open his eyes; the anticipation is still there, persistent. “Hheh… heEHh… hehh’NGKT’shh! snf, snf...” He thinks the smoke might be getting to him. Perhaps it would do to try to sneeze this cold out—to expel all of the pathogens first, before his cold has the chance to worsen. Judging by how things are looking, it might happen even if he doesn’t do anything to encourage it.

“heh… hehH’iiSSSCh! HEHH’GKTschh!”

“Woah, bless you,” says a familiar voice.

Albedo’s eyes snap open. “Kaeya…?” He winces, still sniffling, and lowers the handkerchief from his face. Something must be wrong, he thinks—it must be urgent, too, if Jean had thought to send Kaeya up here on such a short notice. “Don’t tell me I mixed up the delivery shipments, snf, rest assured, I’ll… h-have it sorted as soon as I… hiih… can... hiih’GZZSchh!”

“Bless you again,” Kaeya says, sounding unbothered. “Relax, nothing’s wrong. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

It’s a puzzling response, to say the least. Albedo frowns. “Did you need something?”

“No, but I brought hot chocolate,” Kaeya says. When Albedo looks up, he sees that Kaeya is holding two mugs, one in each hand—both of which are miraculously still steaming. He holds one out in Albedo’s direction. “Sucrose tells me you have a taste for sweets.”

“I… am indeed fond of them,” Albedo says, taking the drink from him.

Kaeya brightens visibly. “This is an old recipe. You’ll have to tell me if it’s any good.”

Albedo takes a sip. The taste of it is slightly dulled under his worsening congestion, but it’s warm, fragrant and light, just sweet enough to not be overwhelming. “It’s exceptional,” he says earnestly, curling both hands around the mug to relish its warmth. “I would appoint you Captain of Drinks, if I could.”

Kaeya laughs. “You flatter me. I’m glad it was to your taste~ So,” he starts, smiling in that familiar, unreadable way, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Not off the top of my head... hiiH’DSCHhH!” Unprepared, uncovered—Albedo looks away, suspecting that his face must be red. “...Apologies. I’ve done this...”—he gestures vaguely to the workspace in front of him—“...many times before. I assure you, I can handle it. Did Jean send you?”

“Jean? No, I sent myself. I’m off work for today, and you said there was lots to get done, and you’re not feeling well, so...” Kaeya says all of this simply, as if his presence here is really only natural. As if he’s made the trip here—in the freezing cold, unpressured by the Acting Grandmaster, unaccompanied—just to stand here now, smiling, as if none of that is a big deal. He says, “Let me help?”

Albedo gapes at him.

“I would like to help,” Kaeya adds, sensing Albedo’s hesitation. He takes a seat on one of the crates opposite to Albedo—too close, really, to guarantee that he won’t contract this, which Albedo wants to comment on too. “That is, if you’d let me. I have no doubt you’d be able to handle this by yourself, but I can’t imagine it would be much fun. I’m better at alchemy than you might expect.”

“How chivalrous…” Albedo starts. He turns away to cough softly into his shoulder. “Captain Kaeya, you always manage to exceed my expectations.” It’s illogical, he thinks. There should be no reason why Kaeya’s presence would affect his illness in the least. And yet...

Kaeya smirks. “Since you are so intent on working hard, I figured I would lend a hand. So, where should we start?”

...he definitely feels better already.

[part 2]

[gumnut-logic]

The Cane (Part 4)

@flyboytracy​​​ asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aaargh, those migraines messed with my muse on this one. Had to fight it the entire way and the cane reference is tiny. Hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs to all::

Many thanks to @janetm74​​​ @tsarinatorment​​​ and @scribbles97​​​ for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy​​​ for asking in the first place.

This be Steampunk AU with a mix of John snark, a little bit of wee!Tracys in a little bit of peril, some selfless Scott, and a reason you don’t want to mess with Five or her pilot.

-o-o-o-

4.

“This is very inconvenient.”

Scott stared at his brother in the dim light. “Is that an attempt at impersonating Lady Penelope?”

John stared back, dust drifting haphazardly off his hard helmet and goggles. “As you’ve said many times yourself, there is no use in panicking.”

He had to give his brother that. A sigh and he assessed their situation yet again, shining his torch about the space they found themselves in.

They were in a basement. It was likely that they were lucky, as all indications were that if they had been in any other part of the building, they would not be having this conversation or any other any time in the future. The basement had a wall of solid bedrock on one side, the building having been constructed with that in mind with half the plumbing bolted into the rock. Unfortunately, the rest of the structure had been built on sand, which promptly liquified when the earthquake hit.

Speaking of earthquake. “How long do you think before the next aftershock?”

John pulled out his notebook, took a note of the time on the watch he had strapped to his wrist, and scribbled down some math. “They are very unpredictable, but I’m hoping this last big one will give us some time. Or at least, Virgil some time to dig us out.”

Scott fiddled with his transmitter unit. There was no response on any frequency he attempted. Either the equipment was broken or something was stopping the signal from reaching his brothers. John had already pulled his apart and attempted a signal boost with no success.

They were both covered in dust, but fortunately uninjured.

But, for the moment, they were stuck.

Scott was not very good at sitting still.

“We may as well rest so we can be ready when needed.”

Scott grunted.

His brother ignored him and wiped off a large chunk of masonry with one leather-gloved hand and sat down. “You know Virgil will find us.”

Another grunt.

“Sit down, Scott. You can afford to take a minute to rest.”

He let out a breath and bit his lip, but with a sigh, he did as his brother asked.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of dust and rock settling.

“Why did you come back in?” John’s voice was crisp, clear and calm.

“You were in here.” Obviously.

“But now both of us are trapped, whereas if you had run like you should have, you could be assisting Virgil to dig me out.”

Scott’s lips thinned. What had been his line of thinking? Had there been a line of thinking? To be honest, all he could recall was the thought that John was under a building that was about to collapse and he needed saving.

His voice was a little rough. “Virgil will get us out.”

“Hmm.” John was not looking at him.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?”

Aquamarine turned calmly to catch his eyes. “Better than both of us.”

“We’re not dead.”

“Pure chance.”

John was always ever so direct.

“But important nonetheless.”

John sighed. “Reminds me of the well.”

Scott eyed him. “Really? You’re going to bring that up again?”

“Eternally, my dear brother.” John’s smirk was exceedingly annoying. “Besides, it passes the time.”

“I would rather spend time finding a way out of here.” Scott shot to his feet and began pacing around the space they were stuck in.

“If you disturb something that brings the rest of the building down on us, I’m haunting you until the end of time.”

Scott slumped a little. His brother was right. Messing with the fragile pile was just asking for trouble. They were lucky to have room to breathe, much less walk around.

“This is the reason why you ended up in the well, Scott. You haven’t changed in twenty odd years.”

Scott glared at him. His little brother had been six at the time, Scott only ten. The two of them had gone beyond the borders of the Tracy farm in Kansas and into land they shouldn’t have. They were exploring. John, as always, was a little more cautious, but Scott was ever running ahead.

It was rather ironic that it was John who fell in the well.

It wasn’t long dug, but the planks covering it were flimsy and the winds from the previous day had obscured them. John had gone through them as if the planet had eaten him.

“John!”

Scott found his little brother clutching his leg at the bottom of the hole.

It wasn’t a very deep well, but it was deep enough to put his brother out of the reach of a ten-year-old.

“Scotty, my leg hurts.”

“I’ll get you out.” He looked around for something to help John.

Perhaps he knew in some part of his mind that this could be the wrong decision. He had no rope and no real way to reach his little brother. He should get help.

But he couldn’t leave Johnny here on his own.

The thought was terrifying from both of their perspectives.

Perhaps he would have thought it a little less terrifying if he realised what could happen if he didn’t fetch help. Because once he found a long enough stick, he reached over the edge and while doing his best to add to the length John couldn’t quite reach, he fell in the hole on top of his brother.

There were groans and tears after that.

Scott didn’t hurt himself. John had been heard to comment on multiple occasions thereafter that it was because he landed on a cushion he called brother.

Scott countered that by saying he was lucky he hadn’t been impaled by a bony limb of said scrawny brother.

In any case, they huddled together for warmth for thirty-six freezing hours until someone finally found them.

By then, both brothers were dehydrated and starving.

The lecture from their father was almost as long as their time in the well.

Their mother, pregnant with Gordon at the time, took ill with the fright and there was some seriously scary time until the little fish was born a month later…a touch early.

Virgil wouldn’t let either of his brothers out of his sight for a good year after the incident. The nine-year-old obviously terrified they would disappear again.

It became legendary in the Tracy household for good or bad.

“So, you’re saying, I should have gone for help?”

Something clunked in the pile of rubble.

John arched an eyebrow. “As I said, you haven’t learnt. Yes, Scott, you should not have dashed back into the collapsing building. When Virgil finds out, he’s going to scalp you.”

“I’m sorry that my first instinct is to protect my brothers.”

John rolled his eyes, both original and artificial. “Your first instinct should be to protect yourself so you can protect your brothers.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Scott shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking his hip. “Fine. Then explain Bermuda.”

“That was different. That was saving lives.”

“You rammed a twenty-eight gunned frigate with Five!”

“It was firing on a sinking civilian target full of over two hundred passengers, including my four brothers. Grandma was not aboard. It was a fair decision.”

Scott had to admit it had been spectacular, the huge, blue-grey, manta-ray-shaped Five had reared out of the ocean and sliced the pirate vessel in half.

International Rescue had fished the survivors out of the water and there had been minimal casualties, considering.

Five had taken damage, but her cahelium superstructure was designed to withstand something as simple as a mostly wooden hull. Some gentle care from Virgil, an assessment from Hiram, and she was declared fit and well.

They had disappeared for a while after that as the rumours ran riot. Lady Penelope managed to smooth any ruffled feathers at government level.

Scott had both commended and roasted John alive.

“You could have been killed.”

“So could have you, and Virgil and Gordon and little Allie. Was I supposed to sit back and watch?”

Another clunk from somewhere in the rubble.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you know how I feel.”

“Of course, I know how you feel. We all do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Scott-“

But John was interrupted by another clank, this time clearly from one of the pipes against the wall.

“Virgil?” They both said it at once and hurried over to the rock face.

The clunk repeated itself and then started on a very familiar dot dot dot…

S C O T T

He reached behind and pulled his folded cane out of its sleeve on his back. Its metal tip shone dull brass in the yellow light.

He only had to tap one letter. Dot dot dot dash.

V.

Three letters came back in a hurried jumble of excited hammering. F A B.

Then…S T A T U S?

J  A N D  S   W E L L  A N D  M O B I L E.

S T A N D  B A C K ?

F A B.

Assuming Virgil was referring to the rock wall as the point of origin, the two brothers stepped as far back from it as they could.

Moments later a rumble and hiss of gears, the crash of breaking masonry and daylight suddenly shot through part of the rubble. This was quickly followed by a massive but familiar brass claw reaching in and grabbing a large chunk of rock, disappearing with it. A crunch of gravel, shove of rock…a shout. “Scott, are you in here? John?” Their goggled and fully armour-suited brother pushed the rest of the way through the pile of broken building, both claws fully extended.

“Over here, Virgil.”

Their brother’s head turned in their direction and metal shoulders sank in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Something shifted in the rubble pile and Virgil reacted, his right claw slamming into the chunk of masonry threatening to fall. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice as the remains of the building creaked around them in warning. Grabbing John’s arm, he hustled his brother out through the gap past Virgil.

The engineer’s eyes on the both of them.

No doubt there would be a medical examination in their near future.

Shoving John gently ahead of him, Scott turned to keep an eye on Virgil.

His metal clad brother stepped back carefully, letting rock fall in his wake.

Then, as if the final domino had been tipped, the entire pile began collapsing in on itself.

Scott took a step towards Virgil only to have his arm yanked on from behind.

“Damnit, Scott protect yourself!” John dragged him through the remains of the rubble as a cloud of dust roared behind them.

“Virgil!” He dug his heels in, fighting John’s hold.

“He’s wearing his armour, Scott. You are not! Move!”

It went against everything. He had to protect his brothers first. But John was right. Neither of them was wearing enough protection. Virgil was.

He had to trust.

Trust that Virgil knew what he was doing.

When put in those terms the answer was simple. Of course, he trusted Virgil.

Perhaps it was fate he had issues with.

John dragged him clear of the building and the cloud of dust. Two, nestled on her landing struts, was a wonderful sight.

And then Gordon was grabbing at him. Alan was yelling his name and there were dusty hugs and clunking helmets.

But still the cloud…

“Virgil?”

As if summoned, his brother strode out of the haze, cogs whirring and pneumatic systems hissing, metal glinting in the sun. His goggled eyes searching until they latched onto his brothers.

Thank god.

A matter of strides and he enveloped his engineer brother in a hug, metal suit and all. “Thanks, Virg.”

His brother exhaled in a huff. “What on Earth were you thinking?” And so began the rant about worrying about a brother encased in metal when a building is falling when he wasn’t and could have been killed with a single rock. You idiot.

It went on for some time.

John smirked at him for the entire tirade.

-o-o-o-

Next

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Astor nodded. He and paced the hall and muttered under his breath.

“I see...I never meddled in the realm of technology...but to think that Sheikah Technology could hold such a secret.” He tapped his chin, staring at the astrolabe on the other side of the dungeon bars. “I suppose it makes sense. The advanced accomplishments and feats that such technology is capable of...it’s only naturally that it is powered by unconventional means.”

Siv spun the Sheikah Core on his index finger like it was a ball. “Yeeeep. I’m guessing that’s what allowed the super old dudes to beat the Calamity all those years ago.” He shook his head. “So, yeah. Dick Lord Ganon is gonna use that to turn the Guardians and Divine Beasts against us. And even if the science peeps keep researching into them...well.” He looked up at Astor. “Obviously, they would never figure out this crucial little detail even after a hundred years of science-ing. So this is our little secret, capiche?”

Astor nodded again. If what Asivus was saying was true (And it was) then Hyrule were truly doomed. The Calamity would exploit this secret, and use it to flip the entire war on its head. This is what Ganon would use to turn the Divine Beasts against them.

If any of the researchers found out about this aspect of Ancient Technology, and adapted to it, then Ganon would lose his biggest advantage...and it might be possible to...

The seer quickly shook away the thought. No, even if they knew, the world would be helpless all the same when the Princess fails to awaken their powers. In fact, it would probably be more brutal if Ganon’s forces were reliant completely on the bludgeoning and stabbing that came with monsters. Machines would have avoidable patterns in a post-apocalyptic world, but monsters of malice would be exceptionally harder.

So yes...We keep this info from everyone. Especially Robbie and Purah and...

“How sure are you that no one else could figure this out?” Astor asked.

“Decently sure. I mean, it’d be pretty hard to guess such a crazy thing.” Asivus shrugged.

“Are you positive? Because I know my—” He stopped in his tracks, suddenly stumbling on his words. “I—in reference to random researchers—other non-specified—she’s not—Look. There are very talented and intelligent researchers across the kingdom, surely someone—”

“Did you say it yourself? Everyone’s way to arrogant around here!” Siv threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “No one’s gonna look for faults in their perfect little war machines! They shoot lasers, and don’t talk back. It’s a general’s wet dream. Even if someone figured out this secret, no one here would listen to them.” He waved his hand in a circle and gestured towards his half brother. “Case in point: You.”

Astor folded his arms and sighed. “Alright, fine. So that’s how the Calamity will turn the Guardians and Beasts against us. But what’s the actual execution of it all? The plan? What’s your play in this? How did the Guardians in the yard get corrupted?”

Siv was silent; thinking. He seemed to be endlessly swimming through thoughts and words and memories. The man fiddled with the discs surrounding the astrolabe, eyes drooping in misery. Interesting.

“I was supposed to make them. That’s what he wanted,” Asivus finally said. “Beast of water, lightning, air, and fire. Or, demons? Blights or something. Creatures that were to take on the Divine Beasts.They’re built slightly different than Guardians, so he needed a little something special to deal with ‘em.” He blew hair off his forehead with a huff. “It all sorta just came into my head in the minutes before I fucked up those Guardians, so the details come and go, but that’s the gist. I make the Blights, Ganon does his thing, then I wait at the Sanctum to achieve true happiness or whatever he was bullshitting.”

“But you failed.” Astor interjected. “You failed to make the blights, and thus today’s calamity failed. At least, in this timeline.” Siv opened his mouth to object, but he continued to think outloud. “The Guardians were a fluke, then. You were not capable of creating Blights, but wielded enough malice to corrupt a Guardian. Although that brings into question how you control malice to begin with...and why you were chosen specifically for the task...”

Asivus was silent again, spinning the astrolabe on the floor. Astor observed him for a moment.

“Is he speaking to you? At the moment?” The seer asked. “Every time you fall silent is when you start looking down at that device. That thing I can correctly assume is the instigator of all this, given that you look at it every time I ask about the recent Guardians you ruined.”

Asivus narrowed his eyes at him, annoyed at being so readable.

“Ganon isn’t in your head, as you said you were overcome with this information in the minutes you truly held that astrolabe and walked by the Guardians.” He thought back. “Earlier before the incident you said you had a dream, and then you found the astrolabe? You leave it on your desk as a paper weight, before developing the decent moral to drop off a potential lost item to the Sheikah. But then you were holding the astrolabe in proximity to the Guardians, and subsequently are suddenly given the revelation to the Calamity’s plan...”

He locked eyes with him. “Combine that with the truth about all Sheikah Technology itself...and the fact that your eyes only change when that core is in your possession...”

Astor walked closer and gripped one of the bars, calmly. “That astrolabe is the link between you and the Calamity. It speaking to you through it. It’s lending you the power to control malice. It’s a manifested vessel of Ganon’s ill intent for this world...perhaps made of whatever malice plagues yourself. Perhaps he chose you for the job because you’re brimming with his favourite substance.”

Assivus started at the seer, and blinked once. Astor took that as confirmation, but asked anyways: “Am I wrong?”

Siv bit his tongue for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “You’ve got Ligero’s mannerisms down to the T. The perceptiveness nearly makes me wish I had actually paid attention to his parenting attempts.”

Something twisted inside Astor at that comment, and his voice grew a dangerous edge. “I’m nothing like him.”

“It’s alright, don’t take it personally. I just have a love-hate relationship with smart people.”

“Tsk.” The prophet stared down the corridor in thought. “Don’t we all.”

“But you’re wrong about one thing.” Siv added, and he looked up at Astor with a new seriousness. “I didn’t ‘fail’ to make the blights.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t fail to make the blights, I didn’t want to.” Asivus raised his voice, and rolled the astrolabe to the other side of the cell. “You can’t fail something you never really attempted in the first place.” He winked. “I mean, that’s been my philosophy on life for the last 15 years, heh.”

Astor blinked in surprise. “But...why? The world is doomed, and you were handed a position of life and power on a silver tray. Chosen above anyone else.  Why wouldn’t—?”

“I didn’t do it because I’m not like you, pissface!” Siv snapped. “I jump outta my socks to make a selfish decision. I don’t just run away from any inconvenience in my life.”

Astor nearly laughed. “Oh? And what exactly is it that you do, then? You’re really going to preach to me, Mr. Assivus Asunder?”

“YEAH! That name is exactly why I decided this!” He waved his arms in the air, and gestured to himself as he slumped against the wall. “Taking action and fighting for anything, regardless of what, sucks ass. Initiating change? Bad. Acting on what you care about? No likey.” Siv pounded his chest proudly. “The ideal ending for Asivus Ex-Hartell is to just chill out, and wait for the end. Drink in hand!”

He raised his empty flask, but nonetheless pretended to drink.

Astor frowned, but let the distant drip of leaking water echo in the corridor.

He watched Siv for a few more minutes, silently tapping his fingers on his elbow.

“You still care about your brother.”

It was a good think his flask was empty, as otherwise he would have spit out his drink. Siv angrily sputtered. “The fuck does that have to do with anything—?!”

“Why are you just relaxing in there after all this time?  You think you deserve this? Don’t want to be a burden for others?” Astor looked him up and down.

“Listen, you little shit. I know at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise that my family is made up of asshole, but—”

“You know when I first saw you around the castle, I did recognize you. The eyes, you see. But of course, I didn’t see the need to trouble you with my story, but I did watch you.” The prophet sneered. “Dear Asivus Hartell, sneaking into town to share a peach cobbler with his niece. Assivus Asunder, teaching his nephew to shield surf, and trying to encourage him down a more righteous path than his own. The Royal Orator Siv, who thanks his little brother for taking care of him by spending four hours making perfect hand drawn rat doodle cards.” Astor leaned down with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who paid attention to the captain’s birthday presents.”

“Alright get to the point, fuckface.” He waved the prophet off. “What? I screw around with my dumb family. What’s it gotta do with anything?”

“It means that for all your talk of laying down and dying and giving up, your action seems to indicate that you don’t actually believe that.” He jabbed a finger at Siv through the bars. “Or at least you don’t fully. Maybe you don’t want to. So don’t go blathering about your sorry life, only to try and insult me in the next minute. This isn’t about your apathy. You’re just scrambling at this low bar Ganon gives you as you drool the rare opportunity to unequivocally be an undeniably good person. You just want to tell yourself you’re a hero.”

Quiet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“OK.” Asivus curled his lip. “I didn’t want to join Ganon, because I’m still stupidly trying to not be an asshole. I’m too much of a wuss to commit to the dickhead role I was probably meant to fulfill. I’m pathetically trying to keep control over my image—is THAT what you want to hear, magic man? Congratu-fucking-lations. You turned the tables, you can see how pathetic I am and can feel better about yourself. How do ya feel?” The astrolabe had rolled by Asivus’ lap, and gold speckled in his eyes.

Astor sighed and answered honestly. “...Well. I’m envious, truth be told.” Siv blinked, but let him continue. “I haven’t bothered trying to be a hero my whole life, much less have such a driven (and these days useless) hunger to be ‘good.’” The seer shook his head, staring down the hall again. “I’m envious, but I do think you’re a fool. I’d take the opportunity to wield the future in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Siv chuckled. “This malice stuff is fucked up.”

“Only because you don’t understand it.” Astor replied, offended. “I’ve studies it for years, and it’s often misunderstood. There’s a beauty and usefulness to it, even detached from the Calamity. You’re just not intelligent enough to get it, I understand. ‘Love-hate relationship,’ like you said.” He snorted.

“Are you sick?! This Ancient Core thing made me walk through so many shitty memories and thoughts...I wouldn’t walk through that again to end OR save the world.”

“Again. All due to your plight of ignorance. It’s not your fault.”

Asivus rolled his eyes. “You know what? Why don’t you explain it me then?! If you’re so excited about it? Talk aaall about how I’m not fit to properly wield this and how pathetic I am?”

Siv dangled the astrolabe in the air between his fingers.

“Go on! Explain how great this malice is, and maybe then if you’re so eager I’ll just leave the thing in your care!”

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day twenty-three, part one: bedside vigil

CW: dying death dead dying yeah that, also sad sad sad, most of them have some sort of not explicit mental health issue going on, and lastly its so so so so so so so long like i’m actually so sorry how did it get to be this long i-

first half under the cut, second half here !!

He could feel the end coming. He could also feel that the time was right. It wasn’t too soon, though he did wish he could have more time. It wasn’t too late either, he felt, it really was right on time. It was his time.

He was glad he knew this, because it meant his family and friends could gather around him. It meant he’d get to properly say goodbye to all those he cared about. He knew they’d miss him, and he’d miss them too, but he’d see them again soon. And he’d never really leave them, not as long as they kept him in their memories, in their hearts.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a faint knock on the door.

“Aang?” Katara called quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.

“Come in,” he replied, his voice hoarse.

She opened the door and came in, carrying a small tray of food. The smell filled the room up and Aang smiled, looking lovingly at his wife. He didn’t get all that hungry anymore, but her cooking was a comfort he tried to enjoy in his final days.

“Bumi, Zuko, and Izumi got here this morning,” Katara said and she set the tray on Aang’s bedside table.

“And Sokka left last night to find Kya. Toph, Su, and Lin finally agreed to stay on the island for a little bit, and Suki and Ty Lee should be here by tonight,” she sat on the wooden chair that now sat by Aang’s side at all times, reaching forwards and taking his hand.

She watched him for a moment, paying close attention to his breathing as his chest rose and fell steadily.

“Thank you,” he said after a time, turning his head slightly to see her better.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetie,” she responded, smiling and squeezing his hand.

It was after another while of sitting like that in silence that there was a hesitant knock on the door. It opened slightly and Izumi’s face peeked in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to interrupt, but, uh…” she trailed off, glancing at Aang and then looking at the floor.

Katara squeezed Aang’s hand again and stood, leaning over to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Then, she walked over to the door, opening it fully.

“You’re not interrupting anything, dear,” she said, placing a hand on Izumi’s shoulder.

“Take all the time with him you need,” she finished before stepping around the younger woman.

Aang followed Izumi with his eyes as she made her way to his side, taking the chair Katara had just been sitting in.

“This feels so unreal,” Izumi started, clasping her hands together and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“I know logically everyone has to die at some point, but it just…” she trailed off and looked up at Aang with tears in her eyes.

“I wish it wasn’t true,” she blinked and a few tears slipped down her cheek.

“You’ve always been like a niece to me, Izumi,” Aang reached a shaky hand out to wipe her cheek.

“Just because I’ll no longer be here physically doesn’t mean I’m leaving you,” he added before drawing in a raspy breath and coughing slightly.

Izumi’s eyes widened in panic and she pushed out of the chair.

“Should I get Katara?” she asked, inching back towards the door.

“No, no, I’m alright,” Aang reassured her, giving her a weak smile.

“I’d like to speak to your father, though,” he said, to which she nodded before turning and leaving him alone.

He turned his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling again, watching as the shadows shifted almost unnoticeably. He didn’t look at the door when he heard it open, his eyes remaining fixed on the shadows above as Zuko made his way to the chair and sat down.

“This feels so unreal,” Zuko muttered, causing Aang to let out a small laugh.

“That’s exactly what your daughter said,” he said quietly, finally turning to look at his old friend.

“Of course it is,” Zuko let a smile creep onto his face.

He let out a sigh, his smile disappearing after a moment. His gaze turned to his feet for a long moment of silence before he forced his eyes up to meet Aang’s.

“I’ll miss you,” he took in a deep breath.

“We all will. But I’m glad for the time we’ve had. Ah, the memories of chasing after you as a delusional teenager,” Zuko let out a small chuckle and Aang smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“But really,” Zuko continued, his face turning serious again.

“There’s so much I wish we’d had the time to do, but there’s even more that we did have time for. I’ll cherish those memories, I promise I won’t forget a single thing, until I see you again,” Zuko finished, stopping himself before he had the chance to cry.

“Until I see you again,” Aang responded quietly.

There was another knock on the door and Aang chuckled.

“It’s like a round robin of people coming in here,” he joked as Zuko stood and moved to open the door.

Bumi stood there, his head hanging down and his hands fidgeting in front of him. He looked up when Zuko pulled the door open, first looking at the Firelord and then to his father. He gasped slightly and looked back at Zuko, who placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything to the young man, instead simply stepping around him to give him space to be with his father alone for a while.

Bumi hesitated at the door, staring at Aang for a second, before walking in and closing the door behind him. When he turned back around, he couldn’t help but run to the bedside.

“Dad,” he cried, falling to his knees in front of the chair.

“Bumi,” Aang said, lifting his hand to gently stroke Bumi’s hair.

“I don’t- you can’t- dad,” Bumi stuttered, putting his arms up on the bed and resting his chin on them.

“You’ll be alright,” Aang said looking sadly down at his son.

“I’m sorry,” Bumi whispered, hiding his face in his arms.

Aang watched him for a moment before saying anything, his hand still repetitively smoothing his rowdy hair.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

Bumi looked up at him tearfully, opening his mouth and closing it again before shaking his head. He sat there for a minute more before pushing up from the ground. He steadied himself against the bedside table, the sudden change in altitude sending a rush of blood to his head. Once he could see straight again, he leaned over and kissed his father on the forehead.

“I love you, dad, and I’ll miss you, and-,” he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

“I really am sorry,” he finished, leaving the room before Aang could question him again.

Aang let out a sigh and watched the door. His eyelids were heavy and he soon found himself drifting off to sleep. He was vaguely aware of Katara coming at some point, taking away the tray of uneaten food and checking in on him. It was in the early hours of the morning that he woke up again.

He opened his eyes to Suki pacing quietly back and forth behind Ty Lee, who was asleep in the chair. When Suki noticed Aang trying to prop himself up slightly more, she rushed around the bed to help him. Once he was seated comfortably, a pillow behind his head, she walked back around to wake Ty Lee up.

“Let her sleep,” Aang rasped, then clearing his throat.

Suki looked down at him and hesitated before nodding. She sat herself on the edge of his bed and rested her hand on his leg, looking at him with a sad smile on her face.

“You’re looking rough,” she joked, smirking at Aang.

“I’ve been better,” he responded, glad that Suki was being lighthearted about it all.

“You’ve also been worse,” Suki added, shaking her head and chuckling.

“Last time you died, Katara brought you back,” Aang couldn’t help but laugh as Suki continued to speak.

“Guess that won’t be the case this time, but hey, at least you’ll get to see Gyatso again,” Aang felt his eyes filling with tears for the first time since he’d taken ill just as Ty Lee finally woke up.

She opened her eyes groggily, turning to Aang as soon as she noticed Suki sitting on the bed.

“Aang,” she said quietly, her usually very bubbly demeanour completely abandoned.

“Your aura, it’s so…” she trailed off and looked sadly at the ground.

Suki hated seeing her like this and grabbed her hand, pulling her slightly towards the bed.

“Hey, let’s not sulk,” she said to her wife, glancing back at Aang.

“I’d rather see you happy in my last days than sad to see me go,” he added, smiling as Ty Lee peeked up at him.

“You’re right,” she said, the corners of her mouth pulling up ever so slightly.

“I’m so glad I got to know you, Aang, you helped me learn so much about myself, and have been one of the best friends I’ve had,” she added, squeezing Suki’s hand as she spoke.

“I feel the same, you taught me a lot and I always knew I could count on you,” Suki agreed, squeezing Ty Lee’s hand back.

“We’ll miss you,” Suki finished, looking back and forth between her wife and Aang.

“I’ll miss you too,” Aang replied. “But I’ll never be far.”

Ty Lee smiled at him warmly, and had just opened her mouth to say something when the door slammed open.

“Kyoshi nerds, out, now,” Toph said loudly as she stomped over to the chair Ty Lee was sitting in.

Nobody in the room could stifle their laughter as Ty Lee gave the seat up to Toph. She and Suki both bid adieu to Aang as they left the room, leaving him with a seemingly very pissed off Toph.

“C’mon, Twinkletoes,” she said, crossing her legs and leaning back against the chair.

“Dying? Now? Don’t you think that’s a little…”— she gestured messily in the air in front of her —“petty?”

“Is my timing inconvenient for you, Melon Lord?” Aang laughed.

Toph frowned and crossed her arms, suddenly overcome with the reality of what was happening. She sat quietly for a moment, her head turned down, until the door creaked open just slightly. A single tear fell from her eye as Su walked silently into the room, hesitating behind her mother before Toph shoved up from the chair.

“Whatever, Twinkletoes,” she said, roughly wiping her cheek as she stalked out of the room.

Su stared after her mother for a few seconds before looking at the floor.

“She just… needs some time,” she muttered, taking the seat by Aang’s bed.

“I see you, Toph, and Lin decided to get along for a weekend?” Aang ventured, cocking his head to one side.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. Lin hasn’t said a word to me since I got here, though, and mom’s been really distant the whole time too. I didn’t really expect any different, though, which is why I didn’t bring Baatar or the kids. They shouldn’t have to deal with my family drama,” she leaned forwards, resting her chin in her hands.

“How are Baatar and the kids doing?” Aang asked, watching Su’s face while she answered.

“Baatar’s been sick on-and-off for a few years, but he’s seeing a healer who says she can give him a lot longer to live with a number of healing sessions and some daily medication. The kids are all doing well, Opal was just born a few months ago,” she paused and looked up at Aang.

“I wish I could’ve brought them here at least once, to meet you, and everyone, but…” she trailed off and looked down again.

“It’s alright, Su. I’ll get to meet them eventually, and when I do, I’ll have all of eternity to get to know them,” Su couldn’t help but smile up at Aang at his response, her eyes stinging just slightly.

“You’re right,” she said rubbing her eyes lightly.

She shifted her feet on the stone floor and sighed, feeling Lin pacing just outside the door.

“I should, uh, let Lin come in here. She’s been… worried to say the least,” Su said standing and giving Aang one last glance before leaving the room.

Lin already had a frown fixed on her face when she walked in. She stood near the foot of his bed with her arms crossed, not letting herself look Aang in the eye. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before huffing and glancing at Aang.

“Lin, sit,” he said, making a small gesture towards the chair.

She shook her head and looked away again, tapping her foot on the cold floor.

“Do you really have to die?” she asked hoarsely.

“Lin, please sit,” Aang repeated, looking at the young woman with concern.

“I mean- you’re the avatar, right? Kyoshi lived for two hundred and thirty years, couldn’t- couldn’t you just not die? That would make a whole lot of stuff a whole lot easier, and I mean-,” Aang cut her off by blowing a small burst of wind in her face.

“Lin, you look like you’re going to collapse. Please sit,” he said, slight amusement on his face.

She looked up at him and huffed, but relented and moved to sit in the chair. She slid down slightly, her arms still crossed and her legs sprawled in a very unladylike manner. She glared at the floor as she began talking again.

“I just think it’s kind of rude of you to die right now, that’s all. I just-,” her voice broke and she let out a small sob, slapping her hand over her mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“No. No. I’m not crying now,” she muttered, taking a few deep breaths and then looking up at Aang.

He gave her a sad smile before saying anything, reaching his hand over and putting it on her knee.

“You can’t push everything down all the time, Lin, but I can’t force you to cry,” he said, bringing his hand back and putting it over his stomach.

“Do you want to talk about something else?” he asked, to which she nodded.

“Tell me how Tenzin’s doing, I haven’t seen him since I’ve been sick,” Aang shifted so he could see Lin better, though she was staring at the floor again.

“He’s… he’s not doing great,” she started, shuffling slightly back in the chair so she wasn’t so slumped over.

“He’s been pretty much locked in his room since you got sick, barely letting anyone in other than for food and such. I’ve gotten him to talk a couple times, though not much. He says it’s too much, that he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle talking to you now… but he does want to. He said he’d come in when he’s ready, but that it might not be for a while… he’s just really scared of losing you,” she paused for a second, twiddling her thumbs in her lap.

“I- I’m scared to lose you too, we all are,” she said in a near whisper.

“You’ll never really lose me,” Aang started, but stopped when she scoffed at him.

“Bullshit,” she said, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and annoyance on her face.

Aang sighed, smiling softly at Lin.

“Again, I can’t force you to believe anything, but I will stick around,” he reached out and took her hand weakly in his.

“I promise,” he said.

Lin’s eyes started to tear up again and she stood, pulling away from him and moving towards the door.

“You- you should sleep,” she said, looking back at him one last time before exiting the room.

He let out another sigh, but figured it best to follow her advice. It didn’t take long after he slid back into a lying position before he was sleeping deeply once more. His sleep was undisturbed, though he didn’t dream of anything. He was far too tired to dream, far too tired for anything really. Even so, he grinned widely when he woke up to Katara’s face by his side.

“I love you,” he whispered, trying not to startle her.

Her eyes snapped up from the brown yarn she’d been furiously knitting into a blanket. They softened when they saw his smile, her own lips pulling into a quiet grin.

“I love you too, sweetie,” she said, setting her yarn and needles on the bedside table.

“Have a good rest?” she reached over and ran her hand over the short hair that now grew thinly over Aang’s usually bald head.

“Mm, mmhmm,” he closed his eyes again as she kissed his forehead like she did every time she left the room now.

“Sokka and Kya are here,” she murmured, standing slowly.

“Should I bring them in?” Aang opened his eyes again at Katara’s question, nodding and shuffling back just slightly against the headboard.

Katara made sure he was properly situated before stroking his hair again and leaving the room. Aang looked down at his pale, shaky, bony hands while he waited for someone to come in. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but it was still off putting to see his own body so frail and destructible.

“Hey,” he heard Sokka say outside the door.

“Kya, hey, it’s alright. Let me go in first, okay? It’ll be okay, you’re okay, just… sit here for a minute.”

There was the sound of a metal chair being placed by the door and then the squeak of the door’s rusty hinges as Sokka came in.

“Is she alright?” Aang asked, looking past Sokka at the door as he took the chair.

Sokka rubbed his hands over his face before leaning forward on his elbows, staring into space as he spoke.

“Yeah, she’s not been doing the best, but she’ll be alright. She…we’ll make sure she is,” he looked at Aang for the first time since before he’d taken ill.

It was impossible to not notice the difference. Aang’s eyes were more sunken, his eye bags bigger and darker now. He actually had hair growing on the top of his head, but he was skinnier than ever with how little he’d been eating. His eyes were duller than they used to be, their sparkling excitement and energy simply missing.

“Fuck,” Sokka whispered.

“You really are dying, aren’t you,” he muttered, examining Aang’s face.

“It’s my time, Sokka. I can feel it,” Aang responded faintly.

Sokka nodded and took a deep breath. Aang could hear how shaky it was, how desperately he was trying not to cry. He pushed slightly away from the headboard and held his arms out to Sokka with a slight smile.

“You can cry,” he said, to which Sokka responded with a quiet sob.

He pushed himself out of the chair and onto the edge of Aang’s bed, accepting the hug and returning it fiercely. They hugged for a long time, Sokka crying on Aang’s shoulder, until Aang noticed Kya’s face peeking through the doorway. He pulled slightly away from Sokka, who wiped his tears with the palm of his hand before following Aang’s gaze to Kya. He smiled at her and nodded, standing to leave but hesitating first.

He put his hand on Aang’s shoulder and squeezed, smiling down at his old friend.

“I’ll miss you,” he said before walking from the room.

Kya dragged herself over to the chair by Aang’s side. She paused for a second and looked at her father, huffing lightly before sitting down. Aang could tell immediately that something more was wrong, something other than just his passing, but had no clue as to what it could be. He turned his hand so his palm was up and looked at Kya’s expressionless face, his brows drawing together.

“Hold my hand?” he asked, prompting Kya to at least look up at him.

That she did, also lifting her hand and curling her fingers in with her fathers. He continued to watch her face, noticing that she really was showing no emotion whatsoever as she stared blankly ahead.

“Kya, what’s wrong?” he tried to tighten his grip on her hand but didn’t succeed.

She opened her mouth to respond and took a deep breath, but then still said nothing. Finally, after what felt like hours to both of them, she found her voice.

“Dad,” she whispered, looking up at him again.

He looked back at her sadly, not knowing how to comfort her without knowing what was wrong. He tried to suck in a breath but started to cough, getting himself under control after a moment but still wheezing slightly. Kya’s face was more concerned after the coughing fit, but still quite neutral. He could see how empty her eyes were, but knew there was nothing much he could offer her now.

“Tell…” he trailed off, trying to muster up enough strength to finish his sentence before continuing.

“Tell everyone I love them,” he said barely louder than a whisper.

Kya furrowed her eyebrows as Aang slid down in the bed just barely, his eyes watching her with sadness.

“Dad,” she whispered again.

“Dad,” she said louder as he closed his eyes, his face relaxing.

It was the last thing he heard.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

just saw your pinned post and aaa!!! please could we have #49?? mclennon ofc ;)

thank you love 💗

49. “I cant stop thinking about you”

“Id give you everything I got for a little piece a mind!” And with that, he finalised the song.

“Its...its good.” Paul said awkwardly - he’d been put into an uncomfortable position by John, hearing him sing a song that was so clearly about him. A song so distraught, a clear cry for help - and it was Paul evoking these cries as well.

“Yeah, well...” he grumbled, “its one I came up with in India, y’know.” Of course he knew, he’d known within seconds of hearing it - this was a song about their argument. The one that had taken place in India, and the one that has acted as a clear indicator that their relationship has changed; there is no longer an innocence to it, nor is there a nonchalance and ease to it either.

“Um, is it...” Paul wanted to ask if it was about him, though of course he knew it was, still it would be nice to have a little less ambiguity. Instead he opted for asking, “Are you- are you okay?”

With some sterility and a cutting edge coldness to his voice, John responded “Yeah. Never been better.”

Paul nodded at this, not reassured. After something of an awkward silence, John stated, “Ive gotta be goin’ actually - ‘m seeing someone.”

“Alright then, have a good one-like.” Paul said trying to at least finalise their conversation with some normalcy - but watching John just about to leave the room, he felt this ending just didn’t sit right - he had to enquire further, and so in a small voice he called out, “...John?”

“Yeah?”

To his own surprise, he found himself bluntly stating, “Yer not alright; can ye please talk to me?”

“I am talkin’ to ye.” He began to make his way back over to Paul, taking a seat beside him. “Ive been talking to you fer 11 bloody years now - and im still not gettin’ through to you.”

“What’ve you been tryin’ to get through to me?”

John looked away from him, he indicated the answer, but he couldn’t bear to speak the words ‘I love you’ out loud; at least not with such sincerity. He changed the subject, adding, “I cant stop thinking about you. Yer askin’ me if im alright - course im not, ive got you on me fuckin’ mind all the time.”

“I...I didnt know...” Paul trailed off here, he never was good at expressing himself so openly. “I, um, I cant stop thinking about you either.”

Spitefully, he retorted, “Yer full of shit Macca.”

“‘M bein’ honest here John - I cant stop thinking about you, cause im worried about you. Yer drinking a lot, tripping a lot - you show up at the studio and you’re angry or depressed or something or other. Im worried. I want you to be happy.”

He was met with bitter, even resentful response, “Yer not worried about me, you just dont like me bein’ an inconvenience. What if something were to come out, all over the news ‘The Beatles are all really just bastards, like every other fuckin’ human being on the planet’.”

“I dont give a shit about that-“

“Just admit it Paul, you care more about yer reputation then you do about me.”

“Thats not true! And you’re not being fair here either. Im sorry about what happened in India, but-“

“For fucks sake, will ye fuck off with India!” John was always somebody so quick to anger, most people found him impossible to get too close to on the basis that his moods were simply so inconsistent; but Paul had always been able to keep up with him. “Its fuckin’ over now, alright. I gave you a proposition, and you said you you don’t want me-“

“I do want you - I want you so bad, alright? And I dont want to let you go completely, but why cant we keep this casual y’know. If we took it to the level you’re suggesting, we’d both be ruined.” He paused, taking a small breath, and continued, “Im sorry that I cant love you like you want me too, but I want kids someday, and you know, yer right - I don’t want the whole world to hate me, im a coward and you know that. Im sorry, John - but could we not just keep ‘us’ casual?”

John couldn’t bare to shout at him again, because he didn’t want to shout anymore. He been screaming at the world his whole life, and it had never made a difference; no one had ever listened to him. He might as well have just been screaming at brick walls. And so in an agonised voice, he echoed with complete honesty, “If we keep this casual, if I cant have you all the time y’know, if I have to share you with a thousand other birds-like - im gonna lose me fucking mind, Paul. Im going mad already. And I cant stand it any longer; I want you, and only you.”

Paul sighed in response - neither party could give the other exactly what they wanted, and yet they wanted just the same thing.

***

Sorry im taking so long with posting these requests!! I have an essay to write for school today, but after that ive literally got NO homework (whoooooo) so ill be writing up the other fic requests I have in my inbox this week (and maybe uploading another chapter to my longer fic on AO3 called ‘Some People Never Know’)

Keep sending requests in if you want <3

[merakiaes]

Change Of Heart - Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader 

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Let me know what you think, I hope you liked it xx

Wordcount: 3075

Summary: Draco broke it off with you at the end of your fifth year to keep you safe, but when you show up at Malfoy Manor with the Golden Trio after having been captured during your hunt for the Horcruxes, he finds this to be a lot harder, when his aunt takes an interest specifically in you. 

Inconvenient was only the beginning of what yours and Draco’s relationship was. It was inappropriate, problematic, ill-timed. Oh, and then there was the little fact that it was also forbidden; disallowed, tapu, no-go, and every other synonym there was in the English vocabulary summed up the situation you were in pretty well.

Draco was a pureblooded Slytherin and his parents were Death Eaters, and you… you were a muggle-born Gryffindor, with parents who both worked as teachers in the muggle world.

You literally couldn’t be any more different and yet, somehow, in a way you couldn’t even explain seeing as you had no idea of how it happened in the first place, the two of you found each other and developed reciprocated feelings.

Your fellow Gryffindors always insisted that the Slytherin Prince had no empathic feelings to begin with, with the way he walked around school tormenting anyone he considered to be below him, so hearing that he was genuinely in love with a muggle-born Gryffindor would just sound like a joke in their ears.

They wouldn’t have been able to take you seriously if you told them, which is why you didn’t. Not at first, at least.

After a while, they just picked up on it themselves, and the Slytherins started suspecting it too. But no one could say anything about it, seeing as no one had caught you in the act of it and didn’t have any actual proof.

Until the end of your fifth year, that is, when Pansy had walked in on you in the library and watched as Draco discretely, slowly but surely, moved his hand over yours where you had been standing next to each other pretending to be reading.

Of course, Pansy being Pansy, she had ran off and told everyone.

It obviously sounded absurd, Draco Malfoy being romantically or in any way involved with (Y/N) (Y/L/N), but Pansy swore on her life that she had seen what she had seen and with the people in your respective inner circles already having had suspicions, they took her word for it.

Something that you had managed to keep hidden up until then suddenly became the biggest problem in each of your lives.

You knew that if word got out that you were involved to Draco’s, or any of the others’ parents, you were dead. Quite literally.

You realized this, but Draco realized the severity of the situation more than you did, so while you tried coming up with a slightly more reasonable and peaceful solution in the end of which you would still be able to be together, Draco knew he couldn’t keep seeing you.

If he did, he would not only be putting your life at risk, but your entire family’s too, and with the empathic side of himself that you had awoken in him, he couldn’t let that happen.

He needed to break it off with you and as drastic problems require drastic solutions, he made quite the show of it, one day just beginning to bully you when he was with his friends, making fun of you and calling you a mudblood among other very, very hurtful things.

At the time, you had been under the impression that you were still to come up with a plan that would allow you to keep being together without anyone knowing, so you were obviously taken aback when this happened so suddenly and without warning.

Your reaction was, therefore, completely genuine, and in turn successfully made everyone believe that there had never been anything going on between the two of you.

You were hurt, not because of what he had said to you, but because you realized then that it was actually over.

When it came to the hurtful words, you knew he didn’t mean a single one of them. His face was pulled up in a nasty scowl when the words left his lips, but you could see it in his eyes that he was sorry. You could always see everything in his eyes.

Almost two years had passed since then, and you were now accompanying Harry, Ron and Hermione on their hunt for the Horcruxes.

You never would’ve thought that you would be where you were with them two years prior, but when Draco had just… disappeared from Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death, you had nothing left there.

Having fallen out a long time ago didn’t make it hurt any less when he suddenly disappeared, not only because you couldn’t see him and feel his presence anymore, which in your eyes was better than nothing, but because no matter where in the world he was and no matter how far apart you were, you could still feel his pain, his confliction, his struggle, and knowing you could do nothing to help him.

So you left with the trio, partly for the sake of a distraction, but also because you wanted to put your skills in witchcraft to good use with the war quickly approaching.

You had been through a lot of pain and struggle along the way, but you always made it out with your lives intact, so despite all of the obstacles thrown your way it had been going fine, up until the day on which you were captured by bounty hunters in the woods and brought to Malfoy manor where you, for the first time in almost two years, laid eyes on Draco again.

Your heart was beating so quickly where you stood beside Hermione, being held back by one of the bounty hunters who had been a part of your capture. 

Not because you were afraid - don’t get me wrong, you were; you were scared for yours and your friends’ lives.

But your heart was beating for one reason and one reason only, and that was being in Draco’s presence, looking into his eyes again, after all this time.

His eyes were wide when they first met yours and you could feel his panic all the way from where you were standing.

You wanted to run to each other, hold each other and never let go, but after first look, both of you forced yourselves to look away from each other to not raise suspicion, Draco instead being led over to identify Harry.

You knew that wouldn’t be easy, however, with the stinging jinx Hermione had cast on him before you were captured, and you dreaded the moment Bellatrix would figure that out, which didn’t take long.

“Was it you, dear?” She turned to you and asked after realizing. “Give me her wand, let’s see what her last spell was.”

As she passed you, she laughed maniacally, pointing her finger at you. “Got you!” She sang, but then she turned her head back forward, and stopped right in her tracks with a gasp and widened eyes.  “What’s that? Where did you get that from?”

The bounty hunter looked down at the sword in his hand, shrugging his shoulders. “It was in her bag when we searched her. I reckon its mine now.” He said, and that’s all it took for Bellatrix to attack them, shooting vines from her wand and sending them out to wrap around their throats.

“Get out, get out!” She yelled at them, and they wasted no time, hurrying to their feet and stumbling out of the room with their hands clawing at their necks.

“Cissy, put those boys and the girl in the cellar.” Bellatrix instructed her sister, who wasted no time in going over and tugging Ron and Hermione forward, handing them and Harry over to Wormtail at the top of the stairs.

While she did that, Bellatrix came over to you and got up in your face, flashing you her rotten teeth. “I'd like a conversation with this one... girl to girl.” She said, laughing.

Your heart was about ready to beat out of your chest and your eyes flickered over to meet Draco’s out of pure instinct, finding that he was already staring at you with wide eyes.

“Everyone, out!” Bellatrix exclaimed, waving her wand at them, and Narcissa wasted no time in going over to where Draco was standing.

She instantly picked up on the intense eye-contact you were having, letting her eyes flicker between the two of you a few times, and hurrying to lead her son out of there when she realized what was going on, in order to avoid anyone else taking note of it.

He looked at you as they walked past and when he did so, Narcissa brought her hand up to the back of his head, forcing his head to the side all while staring into your eyes.

The door slammed shut behind them and everything happened so quickly after that.

One minute you were standing there, just waiting, and the next you were on the ground, trying your hardest to move and get out from underneath Bellatrix who was sitting on top of you, your entire face and neck sticky with sweat as you were held down to the floor by an invisible force.

Your breathing was heavy and ragged with panic as she leaned in close to your face, hissing for what seemed to be the hundredth time. “The Sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it? What else did you and your friends TAKE FROM MY VAULT?!”

“I didn't take anything.” You replied in a cry, trying your best to turn your face out of her grip. “Please. I didn’t take anything.”

“I don’t believe it.” She hissed, and then she disappeared from your face, instead moving over to your arm.

There was a moment where nothing happened, during which the only thing you could do was worry about what she was going to do, and then it started, the pain; the pain as she pressed the tip of her wand into the skin of your arm, beginning to carve into your flesh.

It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, the feeling drawing deafening, never-ending screams from your lips, said screams shaking the walls, echoing through the entire house and reaching Draco’s ears where he sat in another room with his mother and father.

He was so distracted by your screams of agonizing pain that he didn’t notice his mother’s eyes on him, completely oblivious to the fact that she was watching him as he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling, his lips wobbling and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

He sat there, listening and not being able to do nothing to help you, until the house finally turned quiet in a way so sudden, the fear for your life settled deep in his stomach.

The pain had left you completely disoriented, your mind wandering and the only image flickering through your head being that of Draco. His smile, his silvery blonde hair, his mysterious grey eyes.

Silent tears were escaping your eyes and rolling down the bridge of your nose were you laid, as you look down on the word now carved into your skin, a single drop of blood thrickling down your skin and hitting the black floor.

Bellatrix had grown tired of you when you hadn’t given her any information, no matter how much she tortured you, instead sending Wormtail to fetch the goblin.

When hearing the cease of your screams, Narcissa, Lucius and Draco returned into the room, the latter faltering in the doorway when spotting you lying on the floor, clearly completely out of it, and having to be tugged along by his mother.

You weren’t sure who fired the first spell but soon, Ron, Harry and Hermione were fighting against Narcissa, Bellatrix and Lucius, having escaped the cellar in some way, while Draco stood off to the side, not knowing what to do or which side to stand on.

Bellatrix came up to you then, and you let out a silent whimper when she flashed you her dirty grin, too weak to do anything when she lifted you up, put a dagger to your throat and moved you into the middle of the room.

“Stop!” She yelled, and the spell-casting instantly ceased, your friends coming to an abrupt stop when seeing you and the dagger being held to your neck.

“Drop your wands.” Bellatrix continued from behind you, and when they did nothing, repeated herself in a crazy scream. “I said drop them!”

They were about to do as told, slowly beginning to sink closer to the floor by their knees to put the wands to the floor, but before they could, the unthinkable happened, Draco suddenly turning in the direction of his aunt and raising his wand to her head with a shaky hand.

Everyone turned to look at him with shock written all over their face, but all you could do was let out a sigh of relief and close your eyes.

“Let her go.” His voice reached your ears, and you opened your eyes again to see him taking a slow step in your direction.

”Draco!” Narcissa gasped, eyes wide with disbelief and betrayal.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?!” Lucius wasn’t far behind, taking an urgent step in the direction of his son, who wasted no time in switching the wand over to him with a scowl now etched across his face.

Lucius came to an abrupt stop when he got the wand against him, holding his hands up in surrender while Draco glared. 

“Let’s just say I’ve had a change of heart.” He spat, his lips turning down in distaste, and Lucius face pulled into an enraged expression.

”My own flesh and blood!” He hissed, and before anyone else could say anything more, Bellatrix let out a maniacal laugh, causing you to flinch at the high volume right by your ear.

“He’s in love with the girl!” She exclaimed in laughter, and before you knew it, the cold blade was pressed even closer to your neck, a whimper leaving your lips and your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

”He’s in love, with a mudblood!” She continued in a voice full of hatred, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling of cold liquid trickling down your throat.

She used her fingers to brush your hair away from your neck, and leaned in close to your ear, smiling maliciously at her nephew. “And now he’s going to watch me kill her.” She whispered, and he wasted no time in stepping forward with his face now pulled into a panicked expression.

Before she could follow through on her promise, however, the sound of squeaking reached your ears, followed by clinking that sounded to be coming from a chandelier.

Looking up at the chandelier right about where you were standing, you got your suspicions confirmed, catching sight of Dobby sitting on top of it and loosening the screws.

And before anyone could do anything else, the chandelier fell, causing Bellatrix to fly backwards with a surprised yell, and in turn causing you to fall forward, straight into Ron’s arms.  

With his aunt momentarily stunned, Draco wasted no time in rushing over in your direction, reaching out for you in Ron’s arms.

In turn, the redheaded boy held you even closer to his chest. “Don’t touch her!” He snapped at the platinum blonde boy, who in turn only gave him a stern look.

“I’m not your enemy, Weasley. But if you don’t give her to me, I will be.” He threatened, and Ron glared, but nonetheless did as told, handing you over to him and running back to Hermione and Harry.

You clung to Draco’s side, getting used to standing on your weak legs again, and Draco turned to Harry, yelling out: “Potter!” and throwing him his wand.

He caught it immediately, and wasted no time in stupefying Lucius, throwing him backwards into the rubble of the chandelier.

Narcissa raised her wand but got no time to cast any spells before Dobby took it from her, Bellatrix yelling out in anger in the process.

A few more words were exchanged while Draco helped you over to where the others had gathered around Dobby, and the second you were all there, you grabbed a hold of Dobby in one way or another, and allowed him to apparate you out of there.  

Everything was a blur for a moment, but the entire time, Draco held you close to him, cradling the back of your head and holding your head against his shoulder.

When you got through to the other side, you landed not-so-gracefully on the ground, but luckily for you, Draco took most of the fall all while holding on to you, keeping you safe and out of harm’s way.

You started crying almost immediately, reality finally catching up to you and the mixture of relief and remaining pain and panic getting to much for you.

“Draco.” You cried, and he held the back of your head, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m here.” He answered, brushing your hair out of your face, your skin damp with tears and sweat.

Your vision finally began getting clear again and you raised your hands to his face to be able to hold him closer, in the process putting your exposed forearm on full display which instantly caught Draco’s attention.

His eyes flickered down to your arm and you watched as his face fell, his eyes flickering back up to yours quickly, now filled with guilt and sorrow.

”I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his lip wobbling. “So, so sorry.” He continued, his voice cracking and tears slowly beginning to escape his eyes too, his gaze flickering down with shame.

You wanted to break down right then and there at the sight of your arm, the crooked, messy letters spelling “mudblood” in a red, bloody and swollen wound, but you forced yourself not to, instead making him look at you again.

Your head shook and so did your breath. “It wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, and he shook his head in return.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, his hands moving from your waist and the back of your head to cradle your jaw, his forehead pressing harder against yours. “They can’t hurt you anymore, I promise. I love you, so much.” He said and you let out one single laugh through your tears, nodding your head against his.

“I know. I love you, too.” You answered, and then you pressed your lips to his, assuring both him and yourself that you were going to be alright.

Tagged: @writing-is-my-guilty-pleasure​ @peakyhermione​ @fanficflaneuse​ @lucillethings​ @okaydraco​ @biinspiration​

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[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers pet-chapter 22: forbidden forest

All chapters

Chapter 21

It was the next day and id not gone to breakfast or any of my classes. It was Lunchtime and I was supposed to be in Snape's room for lessons. But after last night, I didn't have the energy to get out of bed. I didn't know what it was but I just couldn't seem to move from the spot. Hermione had come to check on me after I had missed breakfast and I just told her I wasn't feeling well. I know she didn't believe me, but she didn't press any further. I felt guilty for not telling Snape that I was gonna be absent from our tutoring sessions today. I guess I could send a note. I reached out for a journal in my bag and tore out a piece of paper.

Dear Professor Snape,

I'm afraid I've come down with something and will not be attending our lessons, or class today. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Y/n

I forced myself to get up folding the note and opening my window. I got Hera out of her cage and gave the note to her, she took it in her beak and I walked her over to the window. "Get this to Professor Snape please. She cooed and flew off my arm out the window. I went and crawled back into my bed pulling the covers up over me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see him after last night, it was too embarrassing, and him not talking about it only made it worse. How did he feel about me now? I thought about what Dumbledore had said. But there was no way the universe would give me the opportunity of me earning this man's affection. I closed my eyes in hopes to just fall asleep so I wouldn't have to worry about these petulant thoughts. But with my luck I couldn't. I remembered the book Ruth had given me and lazily grabbed it from my bag. I looked over the title once more, laying back down and began to read it.

Hera flew to Snapes window landing on his windowsill with a small flutter. He looked up over at her and opened his window. He didn't recognize this owl and was a bit confused at first, he was wondering where you were and why he hadn't seen you all day. He took the note from the owl and looked it over. Had he messed up giving you those lessons? Did you feel violated from him entering your mind the way he did? He was afraid he'd overstepped. He grabbed parchment and a quill and began writing back to you. Halfway through he realized you'd probably not want to speak to him. Unless you were telling the truth and he was just being foolish, and you really were sick. He pondered for a moment before getting up and walking over to his potions closet, he found a small versatile antidote for any common illness and walked back over to his desk, handing it to Hera. "See to it this gets to Ms. L/n" he said as the owl took off out his window and he sat back down at his desk.

I saw Hera flying back in and sat up holding out my hand for her to land on, I noticed a small vial she was holding and she dropped it in my hand. There was nothing else though besides a note that read:

Ms. L/n

This should help with your illness, be careful and don't drink too much or you may get drowsy. I hope you feel better.

Professor Snape

I gave a small smile at the fact he cared enough to send me this, I guess he really did think of us as friends. If only I could get him to think of me as more. I mean it couldn't be too hard could it? Getting the lonesome, cold, and  mean Professor to return my feelings. Easier said than done I guess. I thought back to that book I took. Make him jealous? Could that even be done? I shook away the foolish thoughts and opened the vial. "Well i'm not actually sick so should I really take this?" I said, talking to the only person in the room, myself, and Hera I guess. She just looked at me and turned her head. "Well that wasn't a no" I took a swig and almost threw it up immediately. "Holy shit for a potions professor he really gave me the worst tasting potion ever." I took one more sip not sure how much was too much and put the cap back on, sticking it in my trunk at the end of my bed. I grabbed my book again and continued reading it. It was very interesting so far. It was  about an older gentleman, very intelligent living in Paris, and he had a particular taste in women, for they weren't women but young girls. I squirmed at the thought, what kind of grown man would like 12 year olds, it's very gross, but I couldn't help to think about the way he talked about his feelings. I hated to say it, he was a bad man, but he didn like them in nasty horrific ways I guess. I paused for a moment thinking about my Professor. He was what 36? And I'm 16 almost 17. Well when I put it that way it definitely makes it worse. He would never love me simply for the fact I'm a child. I got about halfway through the book throughout the day, fighting the sleepiness I began to feel. He had now met Lolita and was explaining how he felt for her, and how she felt for him. In the beginning I was repulsed by the idea of him and a girl. But she loved him and he loved her, it wasn't focused on the idea she was young, just how he felt for her in his heart. This gave me the smallest bit of hope. Maybe if Severus liked me for me and looked past the 20 year age gap it wouldn't seem like such a big deal. I mean this is all irrational thinking anyways since he'd never actually develop the feelings I'm hoping for. I looked up out my window and quickly got up realizing it was already dark. I had missed dinner, and usually this is when Id go for more lessons with Snape. I still could make it if I tried, but it doesn't change what had happened last night and if we were... normal again. I decided against it and took out the vial, sipping more than last time, and layed down. I felt myself grow very sleepy and drift off into sleep, hoping I could just sleep the rest of the week.

   I woke up dazed and confused, how long was I out? I looked around and saw it was still dark outside. I looked over at my clock and it read midnight. Is it midnight today? Or of tomorrow? I slowly got up and walked over to the calendar Ruth had taped to the wall next to her bed. Ok so it's still Tuesday, well I guess Wednesday now since it's past midnight. I went to the bathroom and realized I was still in my nightgown, never having changed out of it. I felt nasty though, it makes sense since I was in bed all day. I went to my trunk grabbing my shower bag and new pajamas. I took a quick hot much needed shower and brushed out my hair. Slipping on my underwear, dark green silk pajama pants and a matching silk black tank top. I exited the bathroom letting all the steam out and opened my window a tad. When I did I noticed a note that was on the windowsill, but since it was on the outside it fell and I reached to grab it but it fell outside, I huffed looking down at it and leaned back inside, slipping on some socks and putting on a black knit cardigan, and grabbing my wand. I quietly tiptoed out of the common room into the dungeon hallways, I guess I could have just used magic to grab it, but I needed the air after being in my room all day. I quietly illuminated my wand and began walking to go outside. I didn't see any teachers so far, thankfully. It was kind of late so I doubted there would be a lot of them walking around. As I walked I looked at the dimly lit paintings and such, admiring all of them. I walked out the doors and shivered as I walked into the cold air. Holy fuck its cold, it thought as I walked around to wear my window was. I saw the note on the lightly sodden ground and quickly ran over to it picking it up and unrolling it.

   But when I got it open I realized it was blank. I furrowed my brow looking on the front and back, why would this be delivered to me if it had nothing on it? I had assumed it was from Snape about not coming to our evening lessons, but it had nothing on it. I pulled out my wand and held out the note, "Aparecium" I whispered hoping maybe the note was written in invisible ink or something. Sure enough a short note began to appear. But all it said was "Go here" after I read it a small map began to appear. Ok what? There's no way this is real, someone must be messing with me. I looked around me, still outside, but saw no one. I looked back at the paper trying to figure out where it was going to lead me. I looked back up looking around for any students that might be pulling a prank but didn't see any. This could be a very bad idea I thought to myself. I don't wanna get into trouble, but then again I figured it might be important. I began to study the map once more and looked at it intently, it was a very vague map, I wasn't sure where anything correlated to. I began to walk back inside and noticed an arrow on the map move as I moved, I turned and walked th either direction and it still followed me. Wow so I guess i'm just supposed to trust this random arrow to follow the lines. I looked around once more and decided I would at least need my shoes, I looked up to my window and summoned my boots, I slipped them on and let the map guide me.

   I took me around the outside of the school and down towards Hagrid's hut. Hmm maybe Hagrid sent it and thought I wouldn't remember how to get to his house. But then again I go here all the time for class, and why wouldn't he just come get me? I kept following the arrow and it took me past his hut and over to the Whomping willow, I knew better than to go there so I stopped. This is weird. Why is it taking me here? I looked at the tree and walked very far around it. The arrow followed and I continued on its path as I got in  safe distance from the scary tree. I could see my breath in the cold air and was certain my cheeks and nose were red. I'm sure it didn't help that I had wet hair. I beard the end of the map, my supposed destination and looked up to see where it led me. You have got to be kidding me. It took me right to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Ok this has to be a joke, no way i'm going in there" I said out loud looking around for any sign for what I should do. I looked back at the map and flipped it around trying to figure out if I had gone to the wrong place. But the arrow had turned into an x and I looked back up at the forest. I knew of all kinds of creatures that inhabited this forest, Unicorns, centaurs, werewolves, and hippogriffs to name a few, I was fairly skilled in DADA. But I don't think I could fight off any of these by myself. And Hagrid had told me the stories of the students that disappeared in the forest, so why in my right mind would I listen to a random note and go in.  Harry had even told me of the time he and Draco were sent in to find a injured unicorn and ran into The Dark Lord himself, I mean there's no reason the dark lord would want anything to do with me so I highly doubt id see him but the thought still carried in my mind.

[lady-charinette]

Dinner for Two Chapter 12: The Purrfect Plan

Previously on ‘Dinner for Two’…

An idea popped into her head suddenly, “Hey, wait, I thought you found your mystery cat. Didn’t you say that professor guy was Chat Noir?”

A miserable frown marred the designer’s face and she gently hit her forehead against the table in frustration, “I’m not even sure what I found, Alya. Erik’s…alright, I guess. It’s just, he constantly makes fun of Nath and I don’t like that. He acts different than when we’re in the restaurant.”

“Maybe it’s a thing between professors? They do study in similar fields.” Alya shrugged.

Marinette huffed, “That’s what I thought too, but Nathaniel had that haunted, ‘that guy harassed me’ look about him when I mentioned his name. They really don’t get along at all.” She pushed aside her coffee and rested her chin against her propped up hands miserably, “Maybe I should drop it, maybe I was wrong about Chat, after all.”

Alya’s brow shot to her hairline, “What?! You can’t be serious, Marinette! You’ve talked about that guy for the last weeks! You’re totally smitten!”

“But what if I misjudged his character? What if he’s actually a jerk? I can’t date or like someone like that.” She pouted, looking truly conflicted. Alya hated seeing her like that.

The reporter stood up from her seat and walked around her kitchen table, wrapping an arm around her best friend reassuringly, “Hey, don’t be like that, I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding.” She rubbed her cheek against Marinette’s affectionately, “Besides, my best friend doesn’t just fall for anyone, either way he’s a great guy or there is no guy at all!” she grinned and Marinette giggled, hugging Alya back.

“Thanks Alya, you always know what to say to make me more confident.” With a playful smirk, Marinette gently nudged her best friend, “By the way, Nathaniel is giving you competition, he started learning how to cheer me up too.”

Alya clenched her hand into a fist, “That punk! How dare he! Oh, he should watch his ass when I come into one of his lectures! That paperball is going straight for tomato child!”

Marinette laughed.

--

Adrien’s chemistry professor was perplexed when the part time model handed him a thick stack of papers neatly stapled together. “This is…?”

Adrien beamed, with eyebags that could go for days and suspiciously slouching feet, but beamed, “My assignment I’m supposed to hand in, professor.”

His professor did a double take, excusing himself to browse through his schedule and class list to see for when the assignment was due. “That’s in two weeks Adrien!”

The blond smiled tiredly, “Yes, I know, I wanted to hand it in sooner because I have other assignments to complete…I’m sorry did I inconvenience you?”

The taller man quickly stood, placing Adrien’s assignment on his desk and shaking his head, “No, no, that’s fine. I was just so surprised, you always hand in your work, but it’s still early and I know how busy you are.” He smiled kindly at his student, old worry lines deepening the more he noticed Adrien’s demeanor, “Are you getting enough sleep? If I remember correctly, you have another part time job to run to.”

Adrien nodded, straightening his stance. “Yes, I do, but oh sleep- yes of course, I’m getting enough sleep. Thank you.” He stumbled, shaking his head as if to clear the fog before giving a decisive nod, “I’m…working on that.”

His professor chuckled, patting Adrien’s shoulder kindly, “I know exhausted students when I see them, I know you’re well liked by the other professors, so don’t overwork yourself if you don’t hand in some assignments on time. I’m sure the colleagues would understand and give you more time if you needed, Adrien.”

The young man looked bashful, shuffling his feet before planting them firmly on the floor, adjusting his bag slung over his shoulder, “That’s alright, I can manage the rest well. I’ll be looking forward to your next lecture on analytical chemistry!”

The professor waved him off with a smile, shaking his head. “I’m glad you seem to enjoy chemistry as much as you do physics studies. Not many in the physics department do.” Adrien was certain his professor was thinking of another colleague, judging by the sour expression on his face.

Adrien waved goodbye, jogging up the steps towards the large double doors of the lecture hall. He still had time to get ready for the next lecture and grab a bite to eat.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Hey babe, aren’t you supposed to be at work already?” the sound of keys jiggling accompanied her boyfriend’s voice as Alya turned to the opposite direction they usually took to her workplace at the newspaper company.

She smiled, standing on tiptoes to plant a quick but affectionate peck on the DJ’s cheek. “Nope! I took the day off, gotta do some…investigating.” She grinned, a grin Nino learned to recognize from miles away.

It meant she was in ‘reporter’ mode and that any and all efforts to possibly stop her were futile.

With a resigned sigh, Nino pulled her closer and kissed her hair and forehead, shaking his head. “Alright, but be careful, don’t overdo it, okay?”

Alya’s grin brightened and she nodded, jogging in the opposite direction while waving. “Don’t worry!”

Nino sighed again, a longer more exhausted sigh, scratching his neck worriedly. “I always do…”

With that, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way to the studio.

Pierre’s day had been as inconspicuous as most, and when another customer approached his desk, he was quick to grab pen and notepad and open the latest entry in the guest book.

The auburn-haired woman stopped in front of him and gave him a kind smile, but her eyes seemed to be all over the place, scanning the room, analyzing, as if searching for something.

“Hello! I didn’t make a reservation but is it possible to get a free seat?”

Pierre didn’t need to eye the guest book to answer, this lady came before rush hour, so there were many seats available. He smiled politely, “Of course mademoiselle, follow me, please.” Pierre led the woman to the nearest available seat, handing her the menu and already jotting down her order.

“Um, excuse me, may I use your unique service today?”

Pierre blinked once, before nodding. “Certainly, which one would it be?”

The glint in the woman’s eyes reminded Pierre of a fox eyeing its prey, “Is the black cat in use?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

The smile stretching the woman’s lips reminded Pierre of a fox after a successful hunt, “Perfect,” he wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but her inquisitive nature befuddled him.

Pierre excused himself with the promise to return with the lady’s order; a simple breakfast menu consisting of a cappuccino, orange juice, baguette with fresh fig jam, pain au chocolat, and a honeyed fruit salad.

As the waiter left, Alya took the time to look about the restaurant. It hadn’t changed much from the last time Nino and her went here a year ago, the walls had a fresh color and new chairs better fitting for the overall ambience but it stayed largely the same. She looked at the yellow tablecloth, discreetly taking out her notepad with her pen placed on her lap. As a passionate reporter, Alya never forgot conversations she had with clients, but she wanted to be safe with this one, since it seemed like Marinette was torn about knowing two contradicting sides of Chat Noir.

Speaking of the devil…

A sizeable black plush toy with large green eyes was carried by another waiter while Pierre was carrying her breakfast and Alya didn’t know what to feel more excited about, her impending interrogation or the delicious food.

Once situated opposite of her on the chair, the two waiters left with a ‘bon appetit’ on their tongues, Alya throwing back a happy word of gratitude for the food.

It wasn’t until Alya was sipping her coffee that she began the conversation before the toy could, “Alright, now listen up, I know there’s a vague humanoid person behind those fuzzy ears and I would appreciate it if you strain the human ears for me.”

There was radio silence on the toy’s part, so Alya continued, cool as a cucumber and fiery as a chili pepper, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, sweet blue eyes and dark hair, a smile that could summon angels and cure the ill, ring any bells for you, kitty cat?”

Alya waited for an answer from the human behind the toy, slicing through her poached eggs and internally delighting in the visual beauty and the savory texture in her mouth when she took a bite.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was too early for Plagg to be awake, too early to start work, too early to even think of work. And yet, here he was, staring at Adrien’s screen in mounting horror, the image of an auburn-haired woman with glasses glaring him down with all the bitterness of a woman hellbent on revenge.

Revenge for what, Plagg didn’t know, he just wished he wasn’t in the middle of this while trying not to starve to death.

Only minutes ago, he had been pressing buttons on his computer, in his little room filled with the smell of cheese, working like a slave deprived of his most basic needs.

Pierre had graciously brought him his post breakfast, as Plagg liked to call it, something with cut meat, perhaps a vegetable or two, but most importantly cheese. A lot of melted cheese. So much cheese that Adrien’s nutritionist would’ve balked at his choice of food and promptly demanded a refund. And possibly counseling after dealing with Plagg and his unholy list of food he ate on a weekly basis.

He was working for two today, he needed all the energy he could get.

It seemed not even his meal would be enough to replace all the life that seemed to have trickled from his hands like sand when the woman began speaking to the Chat Noir toy like she was all too eager to drive that butter knife anywhere else other than her poached egg.

He was a goner.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

“No answer, huh?” Alya regarded the plushie curiously, wondering, for a brief moment, if Marinette had been telling the truth about her lengthy talks with the doll. No, of course she did, but it seemed like Chat Noir was in no mood to talk to her. She knew they had automated responses, but this one didn’t even seem to have those since all she had heard from it was silence.

Alya glanced down at her notepad, thinking of all the questions that burned at the tip of her tongue, fueled by the fierce need to protect her best friend, to get answers for all the questions Marinette had, an answer to all the confused feelings that plagued her. She deserved that, so Alya pressed on.

“I know I’m not the person you normally talk to, I don’t even know if you will talk to me today, but I’m here to get some answers for Marinette, since you weren’t here the last time she came. You have no idea how worried and confused Marinette is right now.” Alya’s tone softened, if slightly, she wasn’t sure which approach would work best to tickle answers out of the plushie, but she would try the hard and the soft way.

“So, here’s one question I have for you: the first time you met up with Marinette in a café, you talked badly of Nathaniel. Is this a rivalry thing between professors? Or are you just a jerk?”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Plagg was debating whether to call Pierre and get the toy back, or risk suffering mental injury. He was glad this woman wasn’t able to physically reach him, he was sure he would be losing more than just his mind.

He had a hunch today wouldn’t be a normal day, it didn’t even start normally. No sooner had he arrived at work, he was being starved and had to beg Pierre to fix him a meal after breakfast. Plagg shook his head, running a hand down his face to focus on the issue at hand.

Nathaniel? Who in the world was Nathaniel? Was he someone Adrien knew? Obviously, but he knew the kid, Adrien rarely talked bad about someone and even if he did, he never did it behind their backs. Adrien talking badly about someone while on a date with a woman? Plagg doubted it.

And yet, this woman seemed to believe he did.

Plagg leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin, food temporarily forgotten. She mentioned a rivalry between professors, Adrien wasn’t even a professor, he was still a student. This must be some misunderstanding. This Nathaniel didn't seem to be a model but a professor.

Wait, met up in a café?

Plagg leaned over and checked his phone, scrolling through all the messages he exchanged with Adrien, he tried to remember if Adrien ever mentioned anything about meeting up with pigtails girl before, but nothing sprung to mind.

Was he getting old?

Adrien never mentioned that. Plagg was sure of it.

The kid would be over the moon if he had met up with Marinette in person. Adrien would’ve been a mumbling, panicking fool. He would’ve harassed Plagg about dating etiquette, not that Plagg had many, and yet he had a girlfriend. He would ask Tikki for better advice, after being fed up with Plagg of course. He would get ready two weeks beforehand, choosing which outfits and cologne to wear, how to style his hair, having pep talks with Nino over how to talk to women.

And calling Plagg in the middle of the night while the middle-aged man slept peacefully, to harass him over popular places people visited for platonic dates and if it was too old fashioned to walk her home and kiss her hand. At which point he would squeal like a girl and hang up, leaving a grumpy, confused Plagg to stare at his phone.

But none of that happened. Nothing happened.

This had to be a mistake.

Just when Plagg wanted to press the speaker button, the woman spoke again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

After a long pregnant silence from the motionless toy, Alya clenched the material of her skirt in her hands, fists shaking in mounting rage.

“Not answering that either? You want to convince me that all those talks you two had and how she talked about you all these weeks was just an act?” Alya’s temper flared, nails now digging into the tablecloth, her poached egg momentarily forgotten.

There was static noise, as if someone was ripping paper and then a robotic-like voice sounded from the toy.

“Oh mon dieu, mademoiselle, you have quite a temper don’t you?”

Alya’s eyes narrowed, folding her hands over the other and resting her elbows on the table, “I’m all ears, cat.”

Plagg loved to dig his own grave, it even had several floors, one of which was the devil’s personal residence. Plagg was sure after this, he would have to pay his horned buddy a visit.

Should he try to channel his inner Adrien? The radiant, carefree, dreamy spirit of youth?

No, he would make things worse. Until Adrien got here, he had to set things straight for the kid’s sake.

With a deep breath, Plagg spoke.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What a clawsome day we have, huh? Purrty fine meowrning, right?”

Alya tapped her foot, eyeing the toy suspiciously, did it have a camera too or was it just a speaker for the voice?

“Or should I say, an eggcelent morning.”

So it had a built in camera.

Alya was mildly disturbed, with the new knowledge of a person behind this doll actually watching her eat and rage at it until now.

Gathering back her courage and anger, Alya adjusted her glasses. “Quit it with the puns, will you answer my questions or not?”

Silence followed her words, Alya thought the doll wouldn’t offer any answers she was seeking, but just a minute later, she was proven wrong.

“Sorry lady, you uh-this isn’t the cat you think you’re talking to.”

“What?” was this a bad joke? Had Marinette’s hunch been right? Was this person an impostor?

“The real owner of…uh the black cat is unavailable right now, I’m just filling in for him. But every time pigt-Miss Dupain-Cheng was here, it was the real him, trust me.”

Should she trust him? This was only a doll she was talking to, she had no way of knowing who was behind the voice, if this man was telling the truth.

Then again, she had nothing much to go on.

Crossing her arms and leaning back, Alya pondered her next movements, ire and ego sufficiently snuffed now that the man she had actually wanted to confront wasn’t even here, and she was talking to a third party.

…A third party who might just have the answers she needed.

“Hey, kitty cat.”

“What?” the voice originated from the plushie, sounding mildly grouchy.

Alya brushed the tone off, leaning forward to write in her notepad. “I have some questions I think you can answer, I’ll try to hold off on the difficult ones.”

There was another moment of silence, before the toy spoke, “…What kinda questions?”

“First, tell me if this switcheroo thing is an often occurrence and if you inform my best friend of this if it happens?” sticking her tongue out in concentration, Alya held her pen close to the paper.

The answer followed immediately. “What kind of a cat do you hold me for?! Today was the first time since he, uh Chat Noir, was busy.”

Alya scribbled the answer done, satisfied with the speed at which he answered.

“Okay, why are you a jerk?”

A scoff sounded, “It’s in my genetic make-up. Next.”

Snorting in amusement, Alya continued, “Did ‘Chat Noir’ ever had any intentions of meeting up with Marinette in person?”

“He has to keep his identity secret, so unless he could fully trust her with keeping his secret, I don’t think so. Or at least I would stop him, he wears his heart on his sleeve, at one point he would crack like an egg.”

Alya wrote that down too, ‘secret identity’, ‘no meeting’, ‘crack like an egg’.

The young woman rubbed her chin in thought, half the questions flying out the window now that the person she wanted to interrogate wasn’t here.

“What does ‘Chat Noir’ look like?”

“Oh, god-like. A model really. Sun kissed skin, corn golden hair, forest green eyes and all the smhuck.”

Alya rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee, “Are you giving me false information?” she stared at the soulless eyes of the doll, annoyed she wasn’t getting her questions answered.

“…Pawsibly.”

“So, you have to protect his identity that much? Alright, I’ll leave this for Marinette to figure out but can you at least answer me one question?”

Plagg mulled the suggestion over, before pressing down on the speaker and replying, “Fine.”

“Did you ever meet up with Marinette in person or do you know if he ever met up with her?”

“Nope, cat’s honor. The ki-he never met up with her personally, if he had I wouldn’t be trying to hide his identity, now would I?”

Alya sighed heavily, leaning her head back to massage her forehead in frustration.

If Chat Noir never met up with Marinette, who the hell was the guy Marinette met up with?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the doll spoke again.

“Now, let me ask a question, miss Reporter.”      

••••••••••••••••••••••••     

Plagg tapped his fingers against the control panel, never letting the woman on the screen out of sight.

According to this woman, some guy apparently met up with pigtails girl and pretended to be Adrien?

Did somebody know their secret? Did someone leak it? No, they kept it heavily guarded, they always make sure no one catches them entering or leaving the restaurant.

If this man was someone unknown to them, maybe he knew Marinette? But if Marinette didn’t know him, was he her stalker?

Plagg felt a headache sneaking up on him, all this talk of identities and possible imposters made him want to just eat cheese and sleep.

“Hm, what to do with you?” he mused aloud, fingers still tapping his desk.

If he wanted to gain anything from this conversation, Plagg had to get as much information as he could.

He pulled the microphone close to his mouth.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Sure, spill.” Alya leaned back, notepad resting on the table next to her half finished breakfast.

It had only been an hour, but she felt like half the day passed. Interrogations always made time pass by faster.

Finally, the cat asked, “Do you have a photo of the man who claimed to be Chat Noir? Did Miss Dupain-Cheng show you a photo?”

Alya frowned, mentally slapping herself. “Uh…no. No she didn’t. Just that he was good-looking but seemed to act weird, like, downright mean to Nathaniel, Nathaniel’s her friend and co-worker by the way.”

The doll was silent, seemingly deep in thought over her answer, before he poised his next question. “Yeah, no way that’s the same guy. Chat Noir would never disrespect someone like that, especially if he’s a friend. He’s too nice for that.”

Leaning forward again, Alya rested her chin on her palm, “So, what do you suggest we do Puss in Boots?”

Another moment of silence before the replacement Chat Noir answered, “Tail her.”

Alya blinked, “What?”

“Tail your friend when she goes out with that guy, try to get a photo.”

“What will you do with that information anyway? Are you from the secret services?” Alya froze, what if this guy and this Chat Noir fellow were some men with secretive backgrounds?

Alya snorted in amusement. What were the odds of them being some cliché secret agents? She would buy the story with Chat Noir being a model any day.

“If I were, I wouldn’t be sitting here posing as a plushie talking to people in a restaurant, would I?”

Someone was grouchy. Alya guessed this individual was either an old grump, or just a grump.

“That’s something a secret service agent would say to throw suspicion off themselves,” Alya teased playfully, before clearing her throat. “Anyway, fine, I’ll try to get a photo, but what will you tell Chat Noir when he comes back?”

“Exactly what happened, he has to know there’s a copycat out there. What will you tell Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Alya glanced down at her notes, “The truth and nothing but the truth! What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t tell her what I discovered today?”

“Don’t tell her anything yet, let her stay in the dark until you get that photo of the copycat, then tell her the truth.”

Frowning in dismay at the prospect of lying to her friend, Alya shook her head, “But why? What if she gets hurt with that weird guy? We don’t know who he is or what he wants from her!”

“If he wanted to do something, he would’ve done that already. No sense in playing cat and mouse forever, right? I think your friend will be fine until you get his picture.”

“But why is the picture so important? Can’t she just ditch the guy and come here again as if nothing happened?” Alya didn’t understand why he insisted on that picture.

“Look, if that guy shadows Miss Dupain-Cheng one day and knows to what restaurant she goes to, he could potentially discover Chat Noir and I. And that’s something I wanna avoid, so get that picture of him and I’ll deal with him.”

The edge from the robotic voice made Alya’s skin crawl, “I knew it! You’re a hitman! A muscle for hire! Will you kill the guy if you find out who he is?” Alya slapped her hand on the table, ducking her head and mouthing an apology when nearby patrons glared at her.

Plagg swirled around in his chair, coming to a stop facing the monitor again.

He smiled, chuckling as he gave his answer through the speaker. “Not kill, but I’ll deal with him for trying to stir up trouble. Don’t worry, nothing illegal. I want to keep a low profile too.”

He waited patiently for the woman’s answer, seeing her mulling it over in her head.

He knew he sounded shady, maybe even downright dangerous, but Plagg would not take any chances in getting to that guy before he got to them and possibly endangered Adrien this way.

“Fine, I’ll try to arrange it next week when she meets up with him. If you break our contract, I’ll personally hunt you down and hold you accountable, got it pussycat?”

The woman pointed her finger at the camera, coming dangerously close to one of the cat’s eyes.

Plagg smirked, pressing the speaker on the microphone to talk. “Got it, miss reporter. Hope you can keep a secret.”

He grew more amused when the woman gathered her things, grabbing her untouched croissant, “I wouldn’t be good at my job if I couldn’t, pussycat.”

With that, she left with the promise to bring the photo and Plagg was ready to finish the rest of his meal until a hazel eyes suddenly popped into his field of vision.

The scream Plagg released was never to leave this room, the shrill pitch embarrassing to his own red ears, he was glad Adrien wasn’t here today.

“What?! Don’t get so close to the camera!” he spat, trying to calm his racing heart down.

The woman backed away, quickly retrieving something from her purse and holding it up near the camera, “Sorry! Just, write this down so you know how to contact me, since I can’t contact you.”

Plagg squinted, eyeing the details on the white business card.

La presse de la societe

Alya Cesaire

Journaliste d’investigation

Tel. XXX-XXX-XXX

Quickly scribbling down the information, Plagg spoke into the speaker and Miss Cesaire left with the promise to return and the threat to contact her.

Plagg stared down at the information he wrote, quickly folding the piece of paper and shoving it in his pocket.

Just when he reached for his bowl of now cold cheese, the lock on the backdoor sounded.

“Hey Plagg! Sorry for being so late, I still had to ask my professor something.” Adrien greeted him with a wave and a tired smile, hanging his jacket on the coat rack and placing his bag on the empty chair before walking towards him. “So, anything interesting happen?”

There was this hopeful shimmer in his eyes, the one that told Plagg he was still waiting for Marinette to show up.

He almost felt guilty for lying. “Nope, nothing, just some cranky old lady eating her breakfast. Her teeth fell out so she had to leave, good thing you didn’t see that. Gonna give me nightmares for weeks, ugh.”

Plagg stuck his tongue out, rolling his chair out of the way so Adrien could take a seat at his desk, chuckling. “Don’t be like that Plagg, I can’t wait to see the day you grow all old and bald with your dentures in a glass.”

“Ha, ha, very funny kid.” Plagg playfully kicked Adrien’s chair, causing him to rotate in circles. The model only laughed and Plagg discreetly shoved the slip of paper that peeked out back in his pocket.

Thank you for reading everyone! And thank you again for your eternal patience, hopefully the next update is quicker :3