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fallingdownhell · 10 months ago

Note

Hi it's me again 😅

Is it okay if I request something very specific and angry cause I'm bad at writing fanfics.

Well if it's okay could you do a Ayato x Reader

«Where Reader is in an arrangement marriage with Ayato but despite this fact she somehow ended up falling in love with him. But for Ayato the Marriage was nothing other than a political stunt. So when you get a sickness you keep it a secret from him until Thoma had a enough tells Ayato but before Ayato could rescue you, you had already succumbed the illness. And lay on the floor in your own pool of blood. That was the day Ayato regretted he's life decisions the most. Had he just listened to he's heart instead of his brain, just maybe you would have told him»

Is this too much to ask?

Of course! I'm so sorry I'm so late with your request. Still hope that it's what you imagined it to be. Pairing: Ayato x Reader Content: female reader; arranged marriage; unhappy marriage; Hanahaki AU; blood; major character death; unhappy ending (if I forgot to mention something, please tell me and I'll add it!) Word count: 2,1k words Requested by: @smaika Hope you enjoy<3

Catching your breath again, you stare down at the bloodied tissue in your hands, mind empty.

It's gotten even worse now. The petals, that were smeared with blood, were now also accompanied by a few thornes scattered here and there.

Now you knew where that scratchy and uncomfortable feeling in your throat came from, at least. It was those thornes, most likely.

With shaking hands, you grab the headboard of the bed, sitting down on the bed while you try to calm yourself down again. The coughing fit has gone by, but there was still blood dripping from your lips. At least you didn't stain the bed sheets, or it would probably have rosen suspicion from the housekeepers.

It has been a few weeks now since this whole thing has started. It began with just a general feeling of getting sick. Just some slight nausea and a sore throat, nothing to wrack your brain too hard about. But then the coughing started, and nothing, no medicine or whatever else you tried seemed to help against it.

And then the blood and flower petals came into the mix. When you coughed up the first red petal, you instantly realized what it was you were suffering through. Coincidentally, that was also the moment when Thoma walked in on you and figured it out, as well.

He had been worried sick about you, seeing as you didn't seem to get better at all. That day, he returned from the city with a new medicine he had planned on giving to you, but when he walked in and saw you, hunched over the sink in the bathroom, blood and bloodied petals in there, it didn't take him long to figure it out.

He was already halfway out the room, hellbent on telling the Master of the estate, and your husband. But you begged him not to, pleaded to him to keep it between the two of you.

Thoma did not understand your reasoning behind this request, but he saw the desperation behind your eyes, and he just couldn't bring himself to act against your wishes. Because no matter the professional relationship you two had, you were also friends. And he just couldn't betray a friend like that.

So he reluctantly agreed, promising you not to tell a word about this to Ayato. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't still go out and try to find a cure for you.

And here you were now, weak and sick, sitting on the bed you shared with your husband and contemplating how you got to this point in your life. But deep down, you already knew how this all came to be, and also, how this whole thing would end..

Your marriage with Ayato was by far not the happy fairytale you had always dreamed it would be. The arrangements of the marriage had been taken care of years prior, without any of you two having a say in it in the first place.

You did only get to meet Ayato a total of three times before you were married of to him. And despite all those facts, you couldn't bring yourself to mind it all that much. The Ayato you got to know over the course of those few meetings was a kind and gentle one, respectful of your wishes, although a bit too caught up in matters of work and politics.

It didn't take much for you to actually fall in love with him. A few nice words and compliments from him, a nice gesture there and you were head over heels for him. And then seeing how kindly he treated his staff and his sister only sealed the deal for you.

You couldn't wait to get married to him and recieving that same loving and respectful treatment from him as his wife, looking forward to the days that would be ahead of you, together with him by your side as your husband.

What you didn't expect however, was the complete turn he did one the marriage ceremony was dealt with.

Every time you tried to engage in conversation with him, trying to get to know your husband better, he would shut you down or just flat out ignore you. Every time you tried to touch him, even as innocent as laying a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, he would push you away from him.

You were attending social events with him, though he never held your hand and didn't bother to keep you around him. You slept in the same room together, in the same bed even, and he has never made a move on you even once this entire time.

Often times, he comes to bed long after you've already fallen asleep and is already awake again by the time you get up in the morning. At first you brushed it off as him being crowded with work, or even a bit shy about this new arrangement. However, since his behaviour towards you never changed, you couldn't help but begin to think that there was an actual intent behind it. Wether that was because he didn't like this marriage, or you specifically, you couldn't tell, because he wouldn't talk to you.

But you were certain that those events are what led you to your current situation at hand.

Hanahaki disease..

A disease stemming from unrequitted love towards another person. One that would kill the affected person if those feelings were not returned.

No one really knows how this disease came to be and there wasn't really much that could be done about it, either. Once affected with it, there were only really a few ways to handle this situation.

One. You could simply do nothing at all, but that would lead to your certain death.

Two. There were surgeries available, though these procedures are still very much experimental, and a huge side effect would be loosing any and all feelings towards the person that the affected one had feelings for in the first place.

Or three. You could tell Ayato about your predicament. But knowing him by now, he wouldn't care about it, which would only result in you nearing your end sooner.

You appreciated Thoma for going out there and trying to find some form of other cure, but you and him were both well aware that there wasn't any. He was reaching for solutions that just weren't there.

You had briefly considered the option of undergoing such an experimental surgery, but ultimately decided against it. It just didn't feel right to you, staying married to a man that you wouldn't feel anything for. No joy, happiness, sadness.. nothing. But, were you really ready to give your life for him...?

A moment later, your train of thoughts got interrupted by the opening door of your bedroom, a familiar blonde head poking through the opening. You looked at Thoma, who carefully entered the room and closed the door behind him, kneeling down in front of you.

He looked at the bloodied tissue in your hands, noticing the thornes mixed in there.

"It got worse..", were his quietly spoken words. You couldn't muster a respone, only a small, weak nod. Thoma then gently pulled the tissue from your graps, throwing it in the trash, before he returned to your side.

"I'll help you lay down. You need to rest, (Name)."

You just nodded again, not having the energy to argue with him right now. He helped you to lay down on the bed, a warm hand brushing over your forehead and almost immediately after that, you blacked out from pure exhaustion.

........

Thoma has had enough. He had no idea why you were so hellbent on not telling Ayato about your condition, but he couldn't take it anymore. Even if it meant breaking his promise to you, he could no longer just stand by and watch his friend wither away and die while he could do nothing about it.

If there was a chance that all this could be fixed, he just had to take the risk now. He's waited far too long already, the guilt eating away at him more and more with each passing day.

Quick, determined footsteps echoed from the halls as the blonde aimed for the office of the head master of the Yashiro commission, knowing that he usually locks himself in there the entire day to get his work done.

Out of pure politeness, Thoma still knocked, though he did not wait for an answer from his Lord this time around. Instead, he swiftly opened the door and entered the room, quickly closing the door behind him again as to not cause too much attention from the other staff.

Ayato, sitting at his table, hunched over many papers, did not even look up when the blonde went and stood right in front of the desk.

"Did something important come up, Thoma?", he asks, though the tone in his voice is void of any actual interest in his answer.

"Yes, my Lord. It's about (Name)."

At this, Ayato sighed heavily, dropping his pen and squinting his eyes, rubbing his temples like the topic brought him great pain.

"Look, I know what you want to say, but we've been over this. It was an arranged marriage that was mutually agreed upon by both our parents. Just because she's my wife does not mean-!"

"She's dying, Ayato!", Thoma interrupted him and that sentence quickly shut the Commissioner up. Would he not have been so shocked over the statement itself, he would have been shocked about the untypical rude behaviour displayed by Thoma right now.

"..What do you mean by that?", he asked instead after a few beats of pure silence, in which Ayato tried to comprehend what was just said to him.

"Exactly that. (Name) is dying if you don't get up and finally talk to them about everything. I know you like to tell yourself that you don't feel anything for her and that you're keeping her out of things, but you're just making it worse for her.

I.. I don't think she can make it much longer."

Ayato wanted to laugh. Surely, this was all just a cruel joke the both of you decided to play on him, maybe your newest strategie to get him to pay attention to you. But this is Thoma standing in front of him. He doesn't joke about this kind of stuff.

Realizing now how dire the situation must be, Ayato quickly got up and headed towards your shared bedroom, where Thoma told him you were resting at the moment. The sooner he got this all handled with, the better.

Soon after, he stood infront of the bedroom door, gently knocking on it. He didn't want to startle you in case you were still sleeping in there. When no response came, he gently slid the door open, only to freeze in shock because of the scene that played out in front of him.

There you were, laying on the floor, your body pale and almost lifeless, as a puddle of blood was next to your head, blood still dripping from your lips.

"(Name)!" Without even realizing what he was doing at first, Ayato rushed right over to your side, turning you to your back. When you didn't show any reaction however, he began shouting for help while tears began to form in his eyes..

This couldn't be happening..

Not like this...

He didn't even notice when Thoma and a bunch of other people, who had also heard his desperate shouting, entered the room. They were gathering around you, Thoma frantically dropping down and searching for a pulse from you.

And Ayato knew..

He knew that you were gone, even before he saw that sad look in Thoma's eyes and the slow, little, almost unnoticable shake of his head.

But... this had to have been just a dream, right? A nightmare, that he's going to wake up from soon.

Surely, this wasn't really happening... he couldn't just have lost you like this..

He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping you at a distance, keeping you out of the dangers that dealing with certain people does involve. He didn't want for you to corrupt like him, to stay your pure and unapologetically kind self.

To know now that this was the wrong decision, that he basically killed you himself...

He should have just induldged you, talked to you, treating you like he should have, like you really were his wife..

Maybe then all of this wouldn't have happened..

Maybe then, you'd still be alive right now...

But now it's too late. And all he could do right now, is to hold you in his arms, right here with Thoma, and mourn the way things went...

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato angst #ayato x reader angst

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alastor-simp · 8 months ago

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Sickly Deer - Sick Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary - Alastor is a very proud man, and he will almost never admit that something is wrong. However, you noticed he seemed a bit off today and wanted to know what was wrong?

❥Tags: Sick alastor, sick day, alastor becomes sick, female reader, reader takes care of a sick alastor, stubborn alastor, fluff , adorable fluff, taking care of someone sick

❥Notes: Always wanted to do a sick character story and I finally get to do one with Alastor.

Was a quiet day in the hotel today. Usually there was the occasional chaos, but surprisingly it was peaceful. Charlie and Vaggie were out shopping for groceries for the hotel. Angel was lounging in his room, relaxing with Fat Nuggets. Niffty was reading a book, most likely manga in the lounge room, with Husk taking a cat nap on the couch next to her. Sir Pentious was in his ship, crafting some devices with his egg bois.

You were lounging in the hotel library, enjoying some quiet time to yourself while reading. Well it was quiet for a second until you heard the sound of static-like cough coming from next to you. Alastor happened to be in the library as well, reading his weekly newspaper. He's usually very quiet when he reads, except with the occasional sound of humming or static. But this was new, as you almost never heard him cough or let alone sneeze for that matter. The coughing started slow, but then it kept getting rougher as he kept doing it, causing you to worry. "Hey Al?" Your eyes were gazing at him with concern. Alastor turned his head towards you, wearing his signature smile: “Yes? What is it my dear?” “Well, are you alright? I noticed you have been coughing a lot. Once you said that, Alastor let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh-ho! It is nothing my dear. Just a small tickle. Nothing to concern yourself with!” He waved his hand in the air, after he finished talking. You still felt unsure, but if he said it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t question him.

How wrong you were, the more and more you saw Al throughout the day, the worse his cough got. Not only that, his face was slightly paler and a bit drenched with sweat. He still was acting like everything was alright, but you knew he was lying. Enough was enough. You caught up with Alastor, as he was walking down the hallway. “Alastor! Stop!” You yelled his name out. He stopped in front of you, and slowly turned around, head tilted in confusion. “You’re sick, aren’t you” Alastors face stayed neutral when you said that, but you knew you got him. “I told you already, my dear. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” Alastor just smiled wider and turned away from you to continue walking. He was stopped again when he felt a hand grab one of his coat sleeves. His body grew tense and he turned back eerily, not appreciating you touching him. You gave him a strong look: “Well, I AM concerned. And you should be resting cause you’re only going to make it worse.” His garnet colored eyes locked on to yours, static in the air getting louder. “I am the radio demon, my dear. I do not get sick, so please remove your hand, n̸͚͇̏̉o̸̼̓ẇ̷̹̓.” His eyes flashed into radio dials for a split second, causing you to remove your hand from his sleeve quickly. “Thank you. Now then, I shall take my leave.” He turned back around and began to walk away from you. As you were watching him walk away, you noticed he drew to a stop again. His body was still up, but then he began to fall forward. “AL!”

**Alastor POV**

“Ugh….huh?” Alastors eyes opened slowly. He recognized he was in his hotel room as the ceiling was covered in grassy moss and leaves, as he was the one to change it due to his magic. He soon realized he was laying on his bed, wearing his pajamas as he slowly got up from lying down. He doesn’t recall heading back to his room, as his head was still a bit fuzzy. His head was throbbing and his throat was feeling sore. Alastor knew he was feeling sickly, but he refused to believe it. He hates to be perceived as weak, so he preferred to play it off that he was fine.

The sound of the door opening alerted him, causing him to look up. He sees you walking into his room, carrying a tray along with a plastic bag hanging from your arms. “Oh your awake? How are you feeling?” You bear a smile at him, as you walk closer to his bed, setting the tray down on the night stand. “How did I end up here?” Alastor questioned you, still confused at what happened. “You don’t remember?” Your eyes gazed at him back with concern. Alastor shook his head. “You fainted Al. I stopped you in the hallway cause I knew you were sick, but you said you were fine and as you walked away, you stopped and fell forward.” Al’s eyes widen at your statement, as he kept listening to you talk. “I carried you back to your room after that.” You gave him a small smile.

“I see. I’m sorry for the trouble you had to go through my dear, but I’m quite alright now.” Pulling the covers off, Al swung his feet to place them in the floor. He was stopped by a hand on his chest. “Oh no you don’t mister. You are staying in bed and getting better. Understand?” Your eyes were filled with determination. “My dear, I am qui-” “Understand?” His words were cut off by you. He continued to look at your face, seeing that you were refusing to budge. Heaving a sigh, he nodded his head. He positioned himself back to how he was on the bed. “Does anyone else know about my ailment?" He said, as you turned his head to look at you. You were removing some stuff out of the plastic bag and set them on the night stand before turning back to him. "The only ones who know are me and Niffty. No one else, I promise you. I had to tell her you were under the weather, and she told me to head to the store to get you some medicine while she made you some venison stew." Alastor continued to listen until he asked you another question: "Did you change me into my pajamas as well?" Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head no. "Your shadow happened to appear when I brought you to the bed. I told it to change you." Alastor just nodded his head at that, smiling at bit wider at your adorable reaction.

Grabbing one of the chairs from Al's desk, you brought it over to where his bed was and took a seat. Reaching for the bowl, you placed it on your lap. He observed you blow a bit on the spoon and hold it out to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. "Come on Al. There's nothing wrong with me feeding you." Alastor sighed, and opened his mouth, allowing you to give him some of the stew that Niffty prepared. He was able to finish it all off, which pleased you. Placing the bowl back, you grabbed the medicine and a glass of water and handed it to him. Alastor grabbed it and quickly popped them in his mouth, chugging the water to get them down. Sighing, he laid back on the bed, placing his head on the pillow, turning it away from you. "I despise this feeling." He whispered that to himself, but you were able to pick up on it since you were still seated next to him. "What feeling?" you said back to him, tiling your head. "Alastor continued to look away. "The feeling of being sick. Makes me appear weak." Alastor grumbled out the response.

Alastor remained quiet after that. A hand was placed against his cheek, allowing his head to turn back towards you. His eyes widen at you, as he saw you wearing a kind smile. "You're not weak Alastor. Everyone gets sick from time to time, nothing wrong with it. Also, you should know the others would never think about that, they would rather you get some rest and get better." Your thumb stroked his cheek. Alastor listened to what you said and gave a sigh, closing his eyes. "I know, my dear. Just.....feels strange." Moving his hand, he placed it against the one on his cheek. "Thank you, my dear. If there comes a time where you are ailing, I will return the favor." His lips curved into a soft smile. He heard you chuckle, as your hand moved away from his cheek. "Get some rest, Al. I'll come back to check on you." Smiling, you got up from the chair, and grabbed the tray, heading over to the door. Alastor just watched you walk away, leaving his room, and closing the door. His eyes began to grow heavy, as his body started to relax, drifting into a deep sleep.

TAG LIST:

Tag List:

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takenbypeter · 11 months ago

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Chocolate Fixes Everything

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1179

Sick fic for Willy Wonka, made this cause I’m sick again and I’ve become sick so often these past few months 🙃

Accepting requests for Willy only right now send me any requests plz I’m on a Wonka high rn

You couldn’t believe it. Your throat was itchy, your nose was sore. You could barely get past fifteen minutes without a horrendous cough flying out from the back of your throat. Your nose was stuffed and if it wasn’t stuffed, it was runny, which is why you kept a box of tissues close by. It wasn’t the fact you were sick that you couldnt believe, it was the fact that you were sick only a mere weeks ago and here you were, ill again. Typically this didn’t happen to you but recently it seemed like your immune system was against you, (maybe it was because of all the chocolate you had eaten recently but who knows).

While many of your friends had got the message of your sickness it seems like Willy wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t believe the idea that just popped into my head!” Wonka shouted as he practically tossed your door open, your eyes shot wide as you suddenly became fully alert at the abrupt activity.

Willy on the other hand walked right past your bed which was positioned on the opposite side of the door, with his mind clearly focused on whatever his new idea was.

“Noodle and I were discussing and she had just reminded me of—“ his words were cut off and his upbeat pacing came to a halt when he finally realized you were still in bed.

His expressions seemed to relay curious, then sadness as his facial lines deepened. Without missing a beat he pulled up the wooden chair nearby. “What happened? You look horrible.”

A knowing smile tugged at your lips while you pulled your blanket further to your chin, “gee thanks, that’s just what everyone wants to hear when they’re sick.”

“You’re sick!? No that can’t be, I remember you being sick only two weeks ago.”

You nod acknowledging the fact while his face shifts into surprised? Or maybe excitement…? Stunned? It seemed like all of the above.

“Well you’re in luck,” he exclaimed scooting himself back towards the desk across the room, setting up his small briefcase factory on the table, “because I have something that’ll make you feel right as rain,” he stops tinkering with his case for a brief moment to shoot you a mischevious look, “chocolate rain.”

You rolled your eyes while he turned right around whipping a concoction together.

“Willy, I love your enthusiasm but chocolate can’t just make everything feel better.”

“Says who? Who says?”

“Medical doctors that’s who!”

“Oh doctors schmoctors,” he waves the concern off.

“Chocolate does fix everything. And this isn’t just regular old chocolate.”

Attention grabbed, you watch peculiarly as he pushes buttons and pours things in different areas of his case.

“Last time you got sick you felt awful for practically a week and a half, and I started making this since then,” his briefcase makes whirring noises as it gets to work mixing the ingredients. “Now let me ask you, what do you typically take when you have a sore throat?”

“A spoonful of honey with lemon?” You ask, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, I mean many people do a variety of things once sick, but you took a shot in the dark anyway.

“Absolutely. But that feeling only lasts for a short time. But with this candy I designed, it lasts far, far longer.”

The machine stops and out pops a single candy, shaped simple and evenly square, as green as a lime. And with that candy in hand he returns back to you across the room.

“This is a Choc-well, because as soon as you eat it you’ll feel well,” you gave him an odd look, “the name hasn’t been hashed out yet.”

He motions for you to open your hand and he drops the small piece in your palm, to which you look at suspiciously. “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes. The outer layer is a milk chocolate, while the inside is a honey like substance from the Beezle-midge. And then inside that, is a tiniest drop of twang from a lime.”

“Beezle-midge?”

“It’s a small type of insect that usually travels in groups, except when separated and given the right incentive it secretes honey.”

You winced grossed out by the fact, “ew.”

“It’s good, trust me. Now try it.”

With one final motivating look from the boy you took the chocolate and popped it in your mouth.

“If you want it to really work suck on the chocolate, don’t chew,” he instructed just as you were about to take the first bite. But you did as told enjoying the chocolate. Little by little the chocolate layer disappeared into your mouth as the honey started to make its way to the front and Willy watched on as you ate the delicacy.

After a few moments of honey came the tiniest twang of flavor just as he said and just like that the candy was gone.

“So, how does it feel?” He asks and for a moment you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“How does your throat feel?”

You oh-ed before closing your mouth in thought. The taste was on its way out but your throat felt much better, it no longer hurt from soreness and you didn’t feel any itchiness no or scratchiness.

“It feels…normal! Like it doesn’t even hurt. That’s amazing! How does that happen?”

“The honey from the Beezle-midge as it’s going down puts a small coat along your throat which lasts practically a whole day.”

“That’s splendid Willy, truly astounding!” You praise sitting up in bed. True you still had your other symptoms but at least you didn’t have to worry about your throat or coughing for now. Willy displayed a bashful smile at the compliments that he took to heart.

“Why didn’t you give this to me last time?” You asked curious as to why he just let you suffer, surely it couldn’t be just cause he forgot.

“Well actually…” he tilts his head back and forth before continuing, “you being sick last time is kind of the inspiration for it.”

This was not a new thing, Willy used many different people and experiences as inspiration, but he suddenly felt so shyly in telling you about yourself being his inspiration. Why? Was it because he didn’t know how you were going to react? He knew you would react well of course, you always did when it came to his creations.

“You made this…” you pointed to air essentially now that the chocolate was gone, “because of me?”

He nodded modestly, “last time you got sick, you missed out on a lot, and we missed you a lot in the factory.”

You grinned a toothy grin, “aww that’s sweet, and this chocolate is so cool!”

At your exclaim he felt relief, “good, I’m glad it’s working.”

That made you pause, “glad it’s working? What does that mean? You haven’t tested it before?” You asked worried.

“That’s not what I meant, geez. You do that one time,” he mumbled as he went back to his small briefcase factory.

#willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfic #wonka fanfic #willy wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfiction #wonka 2023

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r3starttt · 9 months ago

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Abby x sick r!

Your eyes were so puffy already it was painful to keep them open. This was probably the third night this week you were unable to sleep due all the coughing and fever and just the general annoyance that comes physically and mentally due the flu.

And if being sick wasn’t enough, being sleep deprived had been causing you some nightmares whenever you tried to sleep. You’d only got some rest in those small moments before actually falling asleep, when you’re not too conscious yet not sleeping either, and even though those five minutes felt so good it wasn’t enough.

You were just so exhausted and frustrated, not being able to do anything but stay in bed all day. Too weak to even shower, you felt so disgusted about yourself and so ashamed for letting Abby see you like this. She insisted you looked hot still, her pretty girl, but you didn’t feel like that at all.

And you loved her and loved that she loved you so much too, but couldn’t help but feel like shit for being such a burden, for not being able to help her as you usually did. Whether you stood at home or you went out with her you always did something to keep things calm for both, to make your life’s easier. And now you couldn’t and besides that you looked horrible and felt horrible and you needed her like never but didn’t feel like asking her for anything, she was working so har lately, to attend you and help you recover. You couldn’t ask for more.

Until today. Your throat just felt so sore, your eyes felt like you’ve been crying since forever due the little sleep you’ve got and the sickness itself. And your nose and lips were burning from how much you’ve been blowing your nose lately. You needed her, to find some comfort, to see if maybe she’d got you to sleep as she usually did, just anything she could provide you, it would help and you were desperate for some of it.

“Abs… babe” your small pats on her shoulder woke her up, trying her best to open her eyes and see whatever was wrong “what happened?” the sleepiness of her voice made you smile almost immediately, waking a small regret on you for not waking her up the other days you struggled to sleep. You knew she wouldn’t mind it, but it didn’t feel right.

“can’t sleep… and everything hurts” just as you spoke you could feel the knot of tears forming on your throat. It was all the exhaustion and frustration finally coming out. And Abby knew, she noticed just by hearing your voice that you needed her, and she also knew that you only needed her when you were containing yourself for too long. So she didn’t hesitate on waking up completely, rubbing her eyes and gently sitting in the bed, opening her arms so you could cuddle with her.

“Shhh shhh it’s okay… you’re alright now” her voice was a little bit husky, yet so comforting and smooth. you crawled to her arms, making yourself some space in between all the blankets “how long have you felt like this huh? you know I don’t mind taking care of you” you could feel her arms slowly embracing you, pulling you closer to her and leaving just the right amount of space in between your bodies so you could properly breath “I’m sorry” your tears started to stain Abby’s shirt, making her heart ache “don’t apologize baby… it’s alright yeah? just let it all out”

The tears finally coming out of your body, her pretty voice guiding you trough your sleep and the warmth of her body made you have a proper sleep finally. It took her long enough to get it but it worked, after some minutes you were already pressed on her, head buried deep on her chest and arms holding on her shirt gently. You couldn’t look more prettier.

And even though your sleepy expression could still scream how overwhelmed you’ve been feeling and your breathing was still unsteady, you were finally able to rest. Not as you wished but just enough to help you get better. And it was all because of her.

#( 𓍼𓈀A𝕽𝐂𝐇𝖎V𝕰 ⨟ 𓍯 abby )#abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #abby fanfiction #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby fluff #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby x y/n #abby x masc!reader #abby x black reader

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icarusredwings · 2 months ago

Text

This has been on my mind for NO Fucking reason so to make it shut up, lets talk about it.

"Why doesn't Wade just do chemotherapy?"

In this essay, I will explain the answer to that question, looking at Germ cancer cells and testicular cancer rates to decide-

Can Wade have biological kids?

Let's start with the basic facts.

What a germ cell tumor?

A germ cell tumor is a mass made of reproductive cells, also called germ cells. “Germ” is short for “germinate,” which means to mature. For men and people assigned male at birth (AMAB), germ cells mature into sperm. Related, germ cell tumors most often form where eggs get made (ovaries) and where sperm gets made (testicles).

[ https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/23505-germ-cell-tumor]

Testicular cancer.

Most testicular cancers start in cells known as germ cells and are called germ cell tumours. Germ cells in men produce sperm. Testicular germ cell tumours can develop from germ cell neoplasia in situ (GCNIS). GCNIS means that there are abnormal cells in the testicle.

[https://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-cancer/testicular-cancer/types#:~:text=Most%20testicular%20cancers%20start%20in,abnormal%20cells%20in%20the%20testicle.]

More than 90% of testicular cancer start in the germ cells, which are cells in the testicles and develop into sperm. This type of cancer is known as testicular germ cell cancer. Testicular germ cell cancer can be classified as either seminomas or nonseminomas, which may be identified by microscopy.

[https://www.cancer.gov/ccg/research/genome-sequencing/tcga/studied-cancers/testicular-germ-cell-study ]

Treatments.

At the moment there is not a lot of options, the most common are:

Chemotherapy

Radiation

Surgery

Chemotherapy.

Chemotherapy works by stopping or slowing the growth of cancer cells, which grow and divide quickly. Because of his healing factor, this would probably not work and if anything cause Wade more illness seeing as Chemo causes

Fatigue

Hair loss

Easy bruising and bleeding

Infection

Anemia (low red blood cell counts)

Nausea and vomiting

Appetite changes

Constipation

Diarrhea

Mouth, tongue, and throat problems such as sores and pain with swallowing

Peripheral neuropathy or other nerve problems, such as numbness, tingling, and pain

Skin and nail changes such as dry skin and color change

Urine and bladder changes and kidney problems

Weight changes

Chemo brain, which can affect concentration and focus (serve mind fog)

Mood changes

Changes in libido and sexual function

And last but not least Fertility problems

[https://www.cancer.org/cancer/managing-cancer/treatment-types/chemotherapy/chemotherapy-side-effects.html ]

Radiation.

At high doses, radiation therapy kills cancer cells or slows their growth by damaging their DNA. Cancer cells whose DNA is damaged beyond repair stop dividing or die. When the damaged cells die, they are broken down and removed by the body. In theory this would work a little bit, for about 12 minutes and then he immediately would have all of those dead cells back because while the radiology killed one spot, cancer spreads. Quickly. With his healing factor its MUCH quicker too. All that pain for nothing.

Fatigue

Hair loss

Memory or concentration problems

Throat problems, such as trouble swallowing

Cough

Shortness of breath

Taste changes

Skin changes (such as burning and peeling)

Less active thyroid gland

Sexual problems

Fertility problems

Urinary and bladder problems

[https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/treatment/types/radiation-therapy]

Surgery.

I dont even need any sources for this. We saw what happened to his legs when ripped off. They just grew back. And if removing cancer cells makes newer cancer cells? That's useless.

Summary.

Wades entire body is cancerous. Yes. His ENTIRE body. Every arm, toe, and fingernail on this man is cancerous. His healing factor is literally just having rapid cancer growth (amongst other things)

Chemotherapy and radiation will not work on him. Chemotherapy works by killing cancerous cells in order to grow healtheir ones. Except Wade can only produce cancerous cells. Yes, while they are new and much more likely in the very early stages, it's still cancerous.

This being said, there is no cure or treatment for Wades Cancer (that we know of at this time) Its quite physically the only thing keeping him with super hero powers yet still remains even after his powers are taken.

Hate to say it.

I hate to say it but statistically removing older, more advanced cells to replace with newer, less progressive cells (aka removing or ripping off his limbs/ parts of his body so they can grow back as new and fresh) is probably the best 'treatment' Wade has right now. Radiology would work the same, right?

Yes, but A. Not as B. Too many side effects that he he'll have to deal with MORE making him even more crazy and sick. Why would he do that when he can just tease Logan into slicing a hurt leg off and go from there?

Will the treatment help him be fertile?

Realistically, without his powers, he probably would be dead in a week, perhaps less due to just HOW much cancer this man truly has.

Chemo would also make it worse. So much worse, in fact. Both pain wise and his chances at ever biologically having a child.

Result(s) Before the cancer was diagnosed, (66%) 79/120 couples who attempted to conceive succeeded within 1 year. After (Cancer) treatment, (43%) 38/88 couples conceived within 1 year.

[https://www.fertstert.org/article/S0015-0282(03)00335-2/fulltext]

Testical Germ Cell Tumors are associated with semen abnormalities before orchiectomy. This review shows an increase in abnormal semen parameters among men with TGCT even outside the treatment effects of orchiectomy, radiation, or chemotherapy.

[https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4270136/ ]

The way that TGCT affects the sperm is that it's very common for not only lower sperm count (obviously, it's hard to produce when you're fighting an entire body illness) but also changes the shape of the sperm which makes it very difficult to reach the egg. Sperm with crooked tails, double tails, double heads, or even broken sperm have a very hard time reaching the egg (think of it like natural selection) and die off before they get anywhere. If you already have low countage and most of them can't make it?

Well that's much lower chances of fertility.

In the comics.

In the comics, Wade has a daughter named Eleanor Camacho in which he was unaware of because her mother saw his face and ran away in terror. The entire thing is that her mother thought she was going to die and decided fuck it, if im gonna die Im gonna die happy so decided to spend these last moments with wade (who she literally just met- if that aint weird in itself idk what is).

She only ever found him to demand child support, and he refused to believe such a beautiful child could he his given his stance of insecurity and well- Just utter shock anyway, I think. He is right. Eleanor is gorgeous as a baby and as an adult.

(There's actually a whole comic where he's trying to fight death so his daughter doesn't die before him because he "couldn't bear the thought of living without her" so they activate a bomb "with the power of a black hole" and comit death together. It's very sweet)

TLDR

In conclusion.

Yes, Wade can have children, but he has a better chance at being successful if he removes his lower half and regrows it so that its *less* cancerous than before cells, therefore hes more likely to have normal shaped sperm and probably more of it during the process.

No, chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery would not be effective. Unfortunately, the most effective thing for him is ripping his limbs off sometimes.

"Forest- why the fuck did you write this?"

You know... I really don't know. I wanted to become a bio geneticist, and here I am. Writing about some bald guys' balls on the Internet. Siiigghh... anyway. Use this. however you want, I don't even care at this point.

#sources sited #fuck cancer #testicular cancer #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #wade has cancer #cancer awareness #what the fuck is wrong with me #in this essay i will #explain something NO ONE asked to know about #vanessa carlysle #wades daughter #eleanor camacho #for science!

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slytherinshua · 8 months ago

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SLEEP IS THE BEST MEDICINE

genre. fluff. sickfic. warnings. reader is sick (sore throat/coughing). mention of food. pairing. seungkwan x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. no. a/n. for @wheeboo who is sick and so i had to write her a sickfic smh (i love her sm pls feel better soon lovely)

As soon as you heard the buzzing of your phone breaking through your attempt at sleep, panic filled your body. One glance at the caller ID confirmed everything, and you shut your eyes tightly, trying to muster up all your energy and a half-decent attempt to get your normal voice back before you answered.

Of course your boyfriend would be calling to check where you were. You were supposed to meet him 30 minutes ago. Not only had you forgotten all about the date you had planned days in advance, but you had also managed to get sick since the last time you had seen him (and forgot to tell him about it).

Seungkwan’s voice sounded cheery as soon as you picked up the call, “Hey, love! Is the traffic bad or something? I’m at the restaurant— people keep giving me looks cause they think I’m dining alone.”

A small smile crept onto your face as you imagined the scene, guessing that your boyfriend probably wore a pout on his face just by the tone of his voice.

“About that… I kind of forgot?” You started to explain, your voice coming out in a painful rasp even as you tried your best to clear your throat.

“Are you sick? You sound awful.” Seungkwan asked hurriedly, completely ignoring what you were trying to tell him. You tried to think of a good excuse to give him, but the silence in response to his question already gave Seungkwan his answer.

“You are sick, aren’t you! Why didn’t you tell me?” He scolded lightly. You could imagine vividly the way he usually pursed his lips in disapproval, and a sigh left your lips. You had really been looking forward to the date, now that you remembered that it had been scheduled. It had been weeks since you spent more than an hour or so with Seungkwan, and you missed him so badly.

“I’m sorry, Kwannie. Can we reschedule it? I still want to go with you.” You said softly, clearing your throat between sentences in failed attempts to stop the uncomfortable scratching every time you talked.

A dinner date with your boyfriend at a seaside restaurant was exactly what you wished you could be doing right now. If only you hadn’t gotten sick at exactly the wrong time, you would be enjoying a fancy meal across from him right about now. You knew the night would have led to a walk along the shoreline under the moonlight— something that you never got tired of. And it would have been chilly enough for you to justify stealing Seungkwan’s jacket (you really just loved it because it smelled like him, and was so perfectly oversized on you).

“Of course. That’s not even a question.” He replied with a tsk, wondering why you would even have to ask that with such a regretful tone. The night certainly wasn’t ruined for him, even though he had been looking forward to the date as much as you had. “I’ll come over. We can still eat dinner together, okay?”

Your heart melted at his suggestion, though you were tentative to accept immediately. Logically, you should probably stay away from him just in case he got sick too; but you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and sleep. You opened your mouth to start protesting, your mind finally winning over your heart, but then you remembered how stubborn your boyfriend was. Even if you forbid him from coming in your front door, he would probably scale the side of the house and sneak in through one of the windows just to get to you.

With a cough, and a small ‘okay’, you hung up the call and let your head hit the pillow again. You swiped over to your phone camera, frowning when you saw how you looked. Seungkwan would probably arrive still in his date outfit, looking as charming and handsome as he always did— and here you were looking like a complete mess under your blankets. From your tired eyes to your tangled hair to the patches of skin that were breaking out on your face due to the cold weather, you would look almost disgraceful next to your boyfriend.

You itched to get up and put on makeup before he arrived, but you knew he would notice right away and be absolutely appalled. You were too tired to put in the effort either way. It was silly for you to still care so much about how you looked even after dating Seungkwan for years, but you still wanted to look pretty for him. You forced your mind to give yourself a little grace about your appearance. It was absurd to expect to look your best while sick.

Seungkwan arrived sooner than you expected, announcing his presence at the door in a sing-song voice. You croaked out that you were in your bedroom as loudly as you could with how painful it was to talk and hoped that he was able to hear you. He knocked on your door a mere second later, opening it slowly. He had a goofy loving smile on his face and a plastic bag in one hand. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as soon as you saw him.

“I got some soup on the way. It’s supposed to help with colds.” He explained eagerly, setting down the bag on your bedside table and taking out a large container of soup. He opened up the lid to let it start cooling before turning his attention back to you.

“My sweet girl. I only left you for 1 week and you still managed to get sick in that time.” He teased fondly, sitting on the edge of your bed where he could easily reach to tuck away the hair that fell over your forehead. You only frowned in response, trying to rest your voice as much as possible. It was easier to communicate non-verbally when your boyfriend could see all your facial expressions.

“Sit up a bit so I can feed you.” Seungkwan instructed with a smile, grabbing the container of soup and spooning out some to blow on.

“I can feed myself.” You whispered.

Seungkwan locked eyes with you, “I know, but let me feed you anyway. You never let me do anything for you.” You scoffed lightly at his response, although it made your chest buzz with warmth. It was clear that the opportunity to pamper and take care of you excited Seungkwan. Knowing your boyfriend, it didn’t surprise you.

The soup was soothing on your sore throat, and just the fact that Seungkwan was right there feeding you each spoonful gave you the energy to actually finish the bowl. He told you about his past week as he fed you, making sure that each bit of soup was sufficiently cooled before it reached your mouth. He gave you a proud smile once you had eaten the last bit of soup, despite how unimpressive the feat had been— certainly not one deserving of such praise.

“You look tired.” Seungkwan commented softly, setting aside the empty container of soup back on the table and adjusting your blanket to cover your entire body again. You hummed a little in response, already letting your eyes flutter closed. As soon as you felt the tiniest bit of motion, though, your hand flew out to clutch your boyfriend’s shirt tightly.

“Don’t leave.” You pleaded, earning light laughter from your boyfriend.

“I was only going to go wash out the container, but I guess that’ll have to wait.” He already knew exactly what you wanted just by your eyes. He wasn’t one to deny you anything when you were already feeling under the weather, so he shifted over to the other side of the bed where there was space for him to lie down and draped an arm around your body.

“If I get sick from this, you have to take care of me, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You closed your eyes again, shifting closer to him half a centimetre at a time in an attempt to be discreet. Of course, he noticed right away and pulled you closer before you were even halfway done closing the distance.

“Sleep. Sleep is the best medicine.” He urged you quietly. It was already a million times easier to fall asleep next to him, but as soon as he started humming old lullabies, the task became almost effortless. You were curled up in his chest before too long; the sound of his singing making its way into your dreams.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu

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gunnerfc · 2 months ago

Note

Could you possibly do a sickfic with Steph Catley where R is her younger sister (like 25 or something) and R gets the flu or like has a migraine and Steph takes care of her? R can be a player or do something else up to you.

Also I hope coming back goes smoothly and just a pre-reminder don't listen to any of the mean anons, they are just keyboard warriors

S. Catley & Sister!Reader - Doctor’s Orders | WC: 801

AN: arsenal Reader! hope you enjoy bff! 🫂

You tried your hardest to hide your cough as you got out of your car at the training grounds, hoping it was just a little cold that would pass by the end of the day. You sniffled as you entered the building, waving hello to the office staff as you made your way to the locker room. Just as you were about to enter, a coughing fit hit and you could tell this wasn’t just a cold.

You opted to keep it to yourself, knowing you would be sent home, and with Champions League games just around the corner, you knew you needed to be on your A-game. In the midst of your coughing, you failed to notice your sister coming down the hall with Lia.

“Y/n,” Steph’s voice pulled you out of your coughing fit and you turned to look at her with wide eyes. Steph was the last person you wanted to see right now, knowing she would be the first one to send you home.

“Hi, Steph. Hi, Lia,” you mumbled, avoiding their eyes, finding the pictures on the wall more interesting. Lia laughed softly at your avoidance before excusing herself, giving you a light pat on the back as she passed by you.

You refused to meet your older sister’s gaze until she cleared her throat, waiting for you to look at her. You turned your head slightly with a pained expression, all the coughing had started to cause your head to ache as well.

“Steph…,” you started but were quickly stopped when the defender’s hand was raised to your forehead to check your temperature.

“You’re burning up, Y/n/n,” Steph mumbled, as she moved the back of her hand to your check before dropping it. “You should be resting, at home,” she said, with a pointed look.

You sighed softly before opening your mouth to try and defend yourself but instead of speaking, another round of coughing hit you. You sniffled once more after the coughing had subsided and you dropped your head slightly, knowing Steph was right.

“I have to meet with the trainers about my injury, it shouldn’t take long. Why don’t you go wait for me in my car and I’ll take you home,” Steph offered softly, you knew it was no use trying to argue with her, she knew she would get her way.

You nodded softly before making your way back outside to her car, dropping to the passenger seat to wait for her. After a couple of minutes, you could feel your eyes getting heavy as you fell asleep. You were woken up once you heard the car door open and Steph was lightly shaking you, telling you that you were back at your apartment. You must have slept the whole way back.

Steph helped you to the door, unlocking it with the spare key you gave her when you moved in. You quickly slipped your shoes off before dropping to the couch, sighing once you were able to rest comfortably.

“You need to eat something first, y/n/n,” Steph’s voice echoed from your kitchen, earning a low groan from you. You knew she was right but you were ready to fall asleep. “Here,” her voice was a lot closer this time, as you opened your eyes to see her sitting a bowl of hot soup on the coffee table.

You mumbled a hoard thank you as you sat up, pulling the bowl up so you could eat. Steph disappeared to your bathroom, looking for medicine that might help with your cough and stuffiness. You sighed softly as the warm soup soothed your sore throat, quickly emptying the bowl just as Steph returned with cold medicine.

You sat the bowl back on the table and Steph picked it up as she handed you the correct number of pills that the label stated. She was quick to take the dirty dish back to the kitchen and return with a glass of water so you could easily take the medicine. You downed the medicine with a sip of water before placing the glass on the table and making yourself comfortable on the couch once more.

“Get some rest, and hopefully you’ll feel a bit better when you wake up,” your sister spoke softly as she took a seat on the other end of the couch.

“You’re gonna stay the whole time,” you questioned with a small yawn, eyes closing as you were close to sleep.

“Of course,” the defender smiled softly as she turned the TV on with a low volume. You were out after that, your body was tired from the sickness, but you were glad to have Steph there in case you needed her. Playing for the same team as your older sister has its perks sometimes.

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #matildas x reader #auswnt x reader #steph catley x reader #steph catley

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chososdiscordkitten · 9 months ago

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Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 10

pt 9 here

Content: direct cont of last chapter, just more unshamed flirting, uncanon hcs on how he grew up, MENTIONED of Choso seeing reader as untouched (?), small time skip for my own sanity. Choso is an ex smoker- ill circle back to that, talk of exes, not so much stalking- again, next chap will have that dw, some excerpts from Winnie the Pooh- another hc of mine, its happening guys. Word Count: 6.8k

(a.n) wow, a whole month and im barely posting, (sorry) new writing style too👍🏽 the lil .𖥔 ݁ ˖ . ₊˚⊹⋆ ⁺ . guys mean a different scene btw.

Taglist: @eristi @sunaumi @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @1arminsimp @hannas16 @chosowhore @tojicvmslut @ofalcaodacolinablue @thesharkcollector @mochipip @hotvillianapologist @ziklope @saeline @morinuu @b3llair3 @24hrnanami

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Looking at you, Choso felt the sudden urge to tell you just how much he loved you. Sitting in his shabby apartment- not caring for the mess or how dingey it was. Still- you cared enough to go see him. He knew it was you- and it will always be you. Be it the dissolving cold medicine in his tummy- or if he really felt this way. In that moment, Choso was so sure he loved you, issues and all. “This is what happens when you spend more time outside than inside.” you hummed, being able to hear his ragged breathing from the chair.

“I hardly get sick.” he coughed, making you perch your eyebrows, all but saying ‘be real.’ He gulped, feeling his sore throat make it difficult to swallow.

“It's true.” he huffed, looking at you seriously. “You strike me as someone with a…” you hesitated, trying to find the correct word. Making him look at you with curious eyes, “-with a wavering immune system.” You grinned, making him nod his head in agreement. “You don't get sick?” he asked, tone sincere. “I never get sick.” you hummed, flaunting your health in his face. “It's been 3 years since I had a cold so-” you laughed, “I can truly say- I don't get sick.” he looked at you with believing eyes.

“You're right though- I do have a sucky immune system,” he sighed, twiddling with his thumbs in his lap, you hummed with a smile. “Too much of what growing up?” you asked, sensing it was caused by something from his upbringing. Choso grimaced, not wanting to admit it. Mind flashing back to the instagram story you posted at the beginning of the semester. Something about ‘why smoke when so many things are trying to kill you-’

You twitched your head, waiting for him to answer. He inhaled, looking away from you as though you were already scolding him. “I used to be a heavy-” he started, lowering his tone. “...smoker.” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut- waiting for you to start speaking. You sighed, making him turn his head over to look at you again, eyes squinted and arms crossed. Nodding your head ‘no’ disapprovingly. “Not anymore though-” he defended, not wanting to upset you. Face churned with worry that this was something you'd never forgive.

You gave him a half laugh, “Choso- I don't care if you used to smoke-” you furrowed your eyebrows, not knowing why he thought he had to defend himself to you. “I mean-” you started, seeing his face fall. “I obviously care if you do- but this was before you knew me.” You smiled, making him exhale the breath he held in his chest. “And besides, who am I to scold you on a bad habit?” you hummed, making him open his mouth to speak. “It doesn't bother you?” he leaned onto his hand planted on the bed, intrigued to hear your answer.

“It would bother me in a- ‘want you to be healthy’ way.” you droned, looking away from his face- being able to see small glimmers form in his eyes at your words. “But if it's your choice, and you want to do it. Don't let my opinions base your choices.” you assured, making him rest back onto his bed in ease. Pressing the back of his head onto the wall in thought. Even if you told him not to- he'd still use your words to make his life choices. ‘Because it is only you who I am trying to impress.’

Inhaling sharply at the feeling of heavy tension in the air, looking to his nightstand and scanning a small stack of books. Noticing he had some of the same ones you had on your nightstand. “Winnie The Pooh?” you asked, looking at his blushed cheeks and pinched eyebrows at your observation. “I uh- I used to read it to my brothers.” He mumbled, seeing your delicate hands pick up the green cover, flipping through the well cared for pages with a smile.

“I brought it with me knowing if I left it, they'd find a way to destroy it.” he laughed. You looked back to him as you gently flipped through the pages, smiling when you saw the small rips and folds from how long he had it. Noticing his slow blinks and how he was manually breathing now-

“All the years I spent repeating those pages and I don't remember a single thing from them.” he muttered, looking down at his hands- almost sad. You blinked back to look at him, “Why’s that?” you hummed with a small smile, secretly elated that he was finally opening up a little, instead of asking about you. “I never focused on the words.” he muttered, looking at the tearing corners of the green cloth cover.

“I think it's because I always tried to make sure they were entertained- that they enjoyed what I read.” he mumbled, seeing you carefully flip the pages. Knowing it held sentimental value, Choso looked at your gentle grasp on the books as though you were holding his heart in your hands. Using all the care in the world as you examined it. “How old were you?” you asked, closing the cover and placing it on your lap. Scanning his soft expression at your question.

“When you first read it to them?” You clarified making him bat his eyes down to his hands, unable to withstand the burning gaze you held to his skin. “Eight- maybe nine.” he mumbled, unpleasant memories flooding into his mind again. “Before your mom-?” you pressed, seeing his eyebrows furrow. With a small nod, he exhaled, “I picked it up one day. Not knowing I'd reread it for the next 13 years.” Choso scoffed Remembering the last time he read it to Yuuji, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “Sad huh?” he looked back at you, seeing your eyebrows curled up with sad eyes below them.

You inhaled, placing your hand flat against the book on your lap, “No, Choso. It's not sad.” You grinned, “It's actually really sweet.”, letting out a half laugh from your nose. Holding up your thumb and pointer finger, pinching the air “A tiny bit sad-” you whispered, making him let out a half laugh from his chest. “But sweet.” you assured.

Choso gave you a few slow blinks, feeling his throat dry. Closing his eyes in an attempt to blink, but keeping them closed. “M’tired.” he mumbled, making your shoulders tense- coming to the realization that you infiltrated his space uninvited. You widened your eyes, “Shit- sorry-” you whispered, placing the book on his night stand before going to stand up. Choso’s eyes flashed open, reaching for your wrist. Being able to fully wrap his fingers around it. Looking up at you with panicked eyes, a stare you hadn’t seen before.

“Stay.” he whispered, looking down at him with wide eyes, his grip on your wrist wasn't firm- showing you just how tired he was. “Please.” Soft tone making you blink down at him. It's not as though you needed any convincing.

You smiled, pressing your other hand onto his knuckles. Soothing his nerves, “Okay.” you whispered, sitting back down. “I'll stay.” you murmured, his shoulders easing as his cheeks blushed at the embarrassment. “Lay down.” you instructed, reaching for the book again. Furrowing your eyebrows when you saw him slowly easing into his own bed. Almost uncomfortably.

Choso looked over to you, resting his head lightly on the pillows to avoid the embarrassment of his bed frame collapsing. He huffed a pained laugh from his chest seeing your expression, “If I move too quickly- it'll break.” he explained, making you nod your head with a smile. “Now I know what to get you for your birthday.” you murmured to yourself, making him let out a weak ‘haha’, as his eyes threatened to close. His grip on your hand tightening, to be sure you wouldn't leave if he went to sleep.

Scooching the rolling chair closer to the bed, side of your thigh pressed against his mattress and you faced him. “I think it's your turn to be read to.” you mumbled, pulling your hand from his briefly and placing the book back on your lap, cracking it open, placing the spine between your closed thighs and holding onto his hand again.

Thumb brushing gently against his knuckles, as your fingers flipped the pages. Tender gaze staring at you as though this was the first time he was ever taken care of. As though this was a marvel.

Making sure to keep your tone soft- inhaling softly before you started, “Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now-” the words fell from your lips in whispers, gracing his ears as he looked at the afternoon sun peaking through. His eyes scanning your features- the way the sun peeked through your eyelashes, how you smiled reading the childish words. When you looked back to him to see if he was still with you, and how gentle you were. Holding his calloused hand as though he was made of lace.

Eternally grateful for the universe putting you here. “Isn’t it funny how a bear likes honey?” you spoke gently, fingers grazing the edge of the old page.

Being able to see every unique characteristic that graced your skin thanks to the warm sun. “It's a very funny thought that if bears were Bees, They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.” you smiled at the silly rhyme, cheekbones glowing when you grinned. Unaware of how badly he yearned for you. How he missed you even if you were sitting inches away from him.

“How sweet to be a cloud, floating in the blue. Every little cloud always sings aloud.” hazy eyes looking at you through his eyelashes, parting his lips that threatened to speak before his mind caught up. ‘It’s you.’ he thought, feeling his lips move, the words at the tip of his tongue as you flipped the page.

Looking up at him from the book, making him close his lips, “It makes him very proud to be a little cloud.” you smiled at him. “Are you proud to be a little cloud Choso?” you hummed with a sappy smile, making him close his eyes and nod, “Only if you're a cloud with me.” he croaked quietly, making you tighten your grip on his hand before continuing to read.

Choso looked at you with a content smile on his lips, heart beating strongly in his chest. Blinks become longer and longer as you flip the page. Your words become mumbles in his mind as his blinking halted. His hand slowly went limp in yours as you continued reading softly.

Hearing soft inhales and exhales from him as you closed the book. Soft eyes scanning his expression, finding it adorable how quick he fell asleep. But the adoration churned to sadness- not knowing precisely why he was never read to as a child. But knowing he grew up always taking care of everyone but himself, you saw it in the way he spoke to you. In the way he tried sparing your feelings anytime he'd say something out of turn, and most of all you tasted it in the way he cooked for you.

Thinking how crazy it was that even if you had been friends with him only for a few weeks- you still felt sad for him. You felt. For him. Which was more than you could say for anyone else you had met in that place.

You huffed with a smile, looking away from him as you derailed your own train of thought. Now taking the chance to look around his apartment- at the walls, at the broken blinds, at the small kitchen. You looked back down to the hand that softly held yours, taking the time to admire them now that he wasn't awake to catch you.

Calloused- but they were warm. Tender. Brutish knuckles that you knew held power behind them, softly scanning the scars he told you stories about. Slowly pulling your hand from his grasp, grazing the tips of your fingers on his painted nails. Admiring how well you painted them.

Snapping yourself out of the daze you put yourself in, suddenly feeling very creepy for staring at your friend who was innocently sleeping. You nodded your head at your wandering thoughts, god. Here he was practically dying of the plague and you were being skeevy. With a sigh you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to think on what to do now. You didn't want to leave- but it seemed even weirder to stay. You inhaled, pushing the chairs' wheels back with your feet, standing up and looking down to him.

All but saying it since it was smeared on your expression, thankful he was sleeping or else he'd see it. Here he was- man who you put so much effort into flirting with. You see, with most men- they were easy. One little bat of the eye and a sweet smile and they'd do anything to take you home. But with him- he'd offer to take you home, without any ulterior motives.. Walk you up to your doorstep to be sure you are safe. Which only made the kindness you had easier to give.

So there you were, disguising your snooping as being kind. Taking quiet steps around his apartment. Not daring to actually open anything- but it was tempting. Hands behind your back as you looked at the small crack of his closet door. Squinting at it before looking to his kitchen, making sure to step quietly on the creaky wood floors. Looking back at him anytime a creak was a little too noisy.

Curious as to what was in his fridge- as good as he cooked he must have more than enough ingredients in his fridge, right?

Staring into Choso’s fridge, furrowed eyebrows staring at one old lime and a single bottle of ketchup. It looked sadder than the one at your own house did. You closed the white door and opened the freezer- nothing. You expected at least liquor- any college student with a fridge has at least a bottle to fall back on.

You looked back at Choso, almost scolding him in your mind. And with the sight of his sleeping face- the marvelous idea popped into your mind. Taking a few steps to stand above his desk, taking the pink post-it stack and a black pen before writing a small note. Smiling as you wrote the stupid words.

Placing the pink post- it on his night stand, smiling before looking down to his peaceful expression. Inhaling quickly before walking back to the entryway, coat in hand as you look back once more before opening the door- making sure not to lock it for when you'd be back.

Even in his sleep Choso heard the door close, but that's not what woke him. What woke him was his neighbor slamming their front door shut. Making him jolt awake in his own bed. Panicked eyes scanning the four walls of his apartment expecting to see you, only for you not to greet him when he woke. Choso felt a little disappointed. Mainly with himself for thinking you'd be here when he woke. That you'd wait for him.

He sighed, sitting up slowly and trying to blink away his exhaustion. Looking to his nightstand and seeing a misplaced post-it, small smile forming on his ill lips as he read your writing. ‘Had to go get a few things. be good and take ur medicine! I'll be back soon :) - the best nurse you will ever have,’ he smiled reading your initials at the bottom of the note.

And as you instructed, Choso took the medicine you placed on his side table, noticing his throat wasn't as achy as it was before you got there.

There was a hint of panic in his breaths, anxiety and trailing thoughts scared that you snooped. That you found something that you shouldn't have. Even if he hid everything- there was still the fear that he forgot something. Choso sighed and looked over to where he tossed his phone, faced down and silent. He picked it up and saw way too many notifications from his brother, with a sigh he returned his call.

Closing his eyes as the dial rang through his ear. Hearing the receiver click- ‘hello?’ He heard his brother's voice in his ear. “You called?” he huffed, knowing his voice sounded a bit groggy.

‘I was trying to cockblock you.’ Yuuji laughed, making Choso scoff and roll his eyes. Leaning an arm on the bed, knowing not to take his jokes too seriously. “You'd do that to your big brother?” taking a sarcastic tone, as he felt his brain pound against his skull.

Choso heard a quiet snicker come from the phone, ‘How are you feeling?’ Yuuji asked, Choso gave an exasperated sigh. “Better. I feel better. I think the worst is over.” Choso grumbled, hearing his brother let out agreeing hums.

‘Is your ‘friend’ still there?’ Yuuji asked in an accusatory tone, “No. No, they left.” Choso exhaled, flashing his eyes to that vent he hid his shame in. ‘Good thing or a bad thing?’ he asked knowing his big brother had a tendency to overcomplicate his own feelings. “I have-” he exhaled, staring at the door of his apartment, “No idea Yuuji.” he closed his eyes, feeling the confusion and those complicated feelings eat away at the illness.

He gave a strained laugh from his chest in disbelief, “I have no clue what I'm doing.” closing his eyes and remembering all the times you've tried to make a step forward. Only for Choso to take 3 back. “I’m fucking this up Yuuji.” he huffed, his baby brother was silent on the other line, hearing the worries spill from his mouth.

‘How?’ Yuuji asked, only wanting to gauge how to go about this. “I came here for you guys. To be better. For you all to be comfortable and happy.” he started, hearing Yuuji sigh through the phone, ‘I've told you a million times- you don't have to worry about us.’ His brother had assured him of this plenty of times. Choso felt small whenever he tried to talk about it but the day came when he felt a wisp of resentment in his heart. And he knew he had to talk about it or else he'd grow angry towards the reason he was put on this planet.

And it was true, Choso eased off a little. After a lengthy conversation with Eso about how it feels to be plagued with being the oldest- his brother assured him he was put on this planet with no purpose. He didn't have to live just for them.

Then came the tattoos and the piercings, trying to find himself in the body mutilation. Somewhere in his heart he knew he came to college to find himself too. Just like you did.

‘You like this person?’ Yuuji spoke up, throwing Choso out of his thoughts. It was a thought he didn't want to think, in his mind he loved you. It felt like true love when he was with you. But actually saying it- telling his brother that you, a person he didn't know a few months ago, had invaded his goal of being better for his family. It was a hard thing to say, and to think.

That he wasn't there just for his family and himself anymore, he was here for you now too.

“I do Yuuji.” he scoffed, hearing the smile form on his brother's face through the phone. ‘In a ‘this persons pretty cool’ or like how I feel about that actress from the hunger games?’ Yuuji joked, making Choso lean his elbows on his knees and smile, “Neither-” Choso scoffed, “In a way I feel consumed by them.” he mumbled, hearing pensative noises coming from the phone, ‘Maybe m’not the best person to speak to this about-’ he laughed, ‘I've never felt ‘consumed’ by how much I liked someone before.’ he admitted, making Choso nod his head disapprovingly.

Hearing footsteps darken his doorway- along with the brass doorknob turning, frightened that it was someone other than you. Only it was you- stepping into his apartment as though it was your own. Your shocked eyes looking at Choso’s face, not expecting to see him awake. “Sorry-” you grinned with a whisper, stepping in fully and softly closing the door behind you. Seeing he was on the phone.

‘Did they come back?!’ Yuuji blurted, “I'll call you later.” he mumbled into the phone, seeing you place handfuls of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Making his cheeks blush at how domestic this whole thing was starting to feel. His brother started yapping a million questions before Choso pulled the phone from his ear, “Later. Yuuji.” taking a stern tone as he clicked the red button on the screen.

In Choso’s heart he felt guilt- guilty for even thinking about questioning his devotion towards you. All he needed to see was that sweet smile grace your lips to remember how he felt.

“I didn't know what to bring- so I brought it all.” you huffed with a smile, unpacking the groceries from the plastic bags. Choso looked at you baffled at the unnecessary act of kindness. Looking at him with sweet eyes, “You look better.” You smiled with closed lips, Choso’s cheeks tingled at the tone you took. “Do I?” he muttered, pushing a few stray strands of hair behind his ear.

“Your color came back- Before I left you looked like a ghost.” You joked, turning around and placing a few bags of vegetables in his fridge, making Choso cringe knowing you had seen the sad contents of his fridge. “My uh-” he shifted on his bed, watching as you put away the various items you bought for him. “-brothers tell me I look like a ghost most of the time.” he smiled, hearing your shoes thump on the vinyl flooring.

You scoffed, looking at his face once more, tilting your head as you examined his features. Choso couldnt help but squirm feeling your eyes on him. You let out a small giggle, looking away from him before opening a bag of bread. “You do.” he sighed in defeat, watching your nodding head as you pulled out two slices from the thin bag.

“Shit-” you mouthed, looking up at him as you held the bread in your hands, “Can I… borrow your stove?” you grimaced, scanning his confused expression. “I'm starving.” you reiterated, noticing he made that face he made when his mind would run a million miles a minute as he thought.

What confused him wasn't the question- more like ‘You've already made yourself at home- why ask to use my stove? What's mine is yours.’ but what stuttered from his lips was, “Yeah- go for it.” as you reached into a cupboard, pulling out a charred skillet as though you were the one who put it there, your delicate hands turning the metal knobs on the stove.

Choso watched you from a distance- as though if he got too close you'd fade away. Watching as you buttered both sides of each slice before placing them on the skillet, “You want one?” you hummed, unwrapping the yellow squares of cheese and placing them onto the toasting bread.

Choso smiled, “I thought you didn't cook?” he spouted sarcastically, watching as you plucked a plastic spatula from the utensil holder, “Two pieces of bread and a slice of cheese is not cooking.” you retorted with a smile, flipping the toasted slices of bread. “Your opportunity for a grilled cheese made with love is waning, Choso.” you teased, seeing his face fall at the sudden words.

Nodding his head quickly once he processed your choice of words, “Plates?” you asked, even from a distance you were able to see his pupils dilate. He smiled, seeing your lips form a smile along with him. “How mad would you be if I told you I don't have any…?” he grinned, making you suck your teeth harshly, a snide comment forming on your tongue but holding it back.

Plucking two white kitchen napkins from the stray roll he had on the counter, placing the well toasted grilled cheese onto it before scooping it in your hands. Taking a few paces towards him, looking down at your feet as you stopped right before him. “You need plates.” you practically scolded, making him look up at you with a bashful grin. “I know.” he whispered, taking the napkin plate from your hands- his fingertips grazing against the back of your palm.

The feeling of shock from touching you diminishes with every purposeful graze from his hands. You irked your head, shaking off the goosebumps that formed on your arms as you walked back to the stove, flashing a few stares to him as you buttered the sides of your own grilled cheese.

Placing the toasted bread onto your own napkin plate, tying a small knot onto the bread bag, cleaning up after yourself as Choso held the sandwich in his hands. Waiting for you to finish so he could eat.

You looked up from the counter, huffing with a small chuckle, “Choso you can eat.” You flashed him a toothy smile as you turned off the stove, “M’waiting for you.” he spoke with all the honesty he could muster.

'I will always wait for you.’ he thought, a glimmer shining in his eyes as he bounced his knee slowly.

“Don't wait for me Choso.” you muttered, as though you read his mind, picking up your makeshift plate and walking over to him, sitting back onto his rolling chair as he watched you with a grin.

Nodding your head- practically having to give him permission to eat, raising the sandwich to his mouth and taking a bite. Following what he did as you both chewed in silence.

“Why'd you bring me groceries?” he spat, almost as though his mouth spoke before he could think about it. You thought about it- not having any real reason other than it felt like it was the right thing to do. “No man should have to live with an empty fridge.” you settled on that being a decent response, Choso nodded his head, agreeing with what you said.

“I'll pay you back-” he declared, seeing your face glow with a cheerful smile, “You don't have to.” you scoffed, holding the crumbly bread in your hands. “S’what…friends do for each other.” there- you did it again. You hesitated before calling him your friend. Choso noticed this since you tried to present him to your roommates friends.

“Why're you so nice to me?” he breathed, avoiding your eyes as he looked down to the sandwich. “Were back on this again?” you kidded seeing his smile fall- actually thinking on why you were being kind, “If we're being honest- you brought this up first.” He defended coyly, “Choso.” you called his name seriously, making his eyes bat up to look at you with a hung head, “I’m nice to you because I like you.” You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him.

“You're nice to everyone though-” he retorted quietly, trying his best to not let the blatant jealousy show through his tone. “I pretend to be nice to everyone, yeah-” you smiled, “But I have never been- this. Nice to anyone before.” You assured, your cheeks warming from his borderline possessive words.

Choso looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, all but asking ‘Really?’ nodding your head in response. “I promise.” Those words meant more to Choso than you'd ever know, it was as though you swore on the thing closest to your heart to him. Placing the sandwich onto the napkin atop your thighs, holding out a childish pinkie and looking at him with soft eyes, ‘Promise.’ you mouthed, Choso raised a hesitant hand, holding out his pinkie as he looked into your eyes.

Interlocking your pinkies as he felt the difference in size, “And I don't like anyone enough to be this nice.” You pulled your pinkie from his, seeing his expression show he wasn't fully convinced on the idea.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you hushed, seeing his eyes peek up and look at you through thick eyelashes.

Nodding his head earnestly, leaning in a little bit more, “I hate everyone in the world except you right now.”

The words you meant in a joking way- only saying them to make him lighten up. It wasn't as though they didn't have some truth- right now everyone sucked and he was the only one who cared enough to make things better.

But to him, those words were all but a confession- a confession that all this time he wasn't a crazed stalker who embedded himself in your life. Those words made his doubts of what he was doing disappear almost entirely.

“You mean that?” he spoke with avoidant eyes and blushing pink cheeks. You exhaled, earning Choso to look back to your eyes, “I do.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ . ₊˚⊹⋆ ⁺ .

After that illuminating morning spent with you, he made sure to be more cautious with what he'd say- how he'd act towards you. But his attempts at caution only made his slip ups more apparent.

The last week of January passed by in seconds to Choso, having you sitting next to him in the classes you had together made life easier. Classes spent drawing on his pale skin to pass the time, and he'd let you- Choso would try his very best to control the warmth that he was sure made his ears turn a shade of pink. But it's not like he had to hide his shamed blushes from you anymore.

Little by little your touch became a constant in his life- your soft hands pulling the rings from his calloused ones, fiddling with them in class as the professor spoke. Turning them while they were still on his fingers as his knee bounced nervously. Being able to smell your perfume- even able to feel your nails graze against his skin as you toyed with his jewelry.

The habit of him walking you home slowly diminished in the first week of February, now walking to his apartment to spend more time together more often than not. Playing kids board games on his apartment floor after he told you that- “I never really played them.” when you asked if he's ever gone through an entire game of monopoly, “I only ever over saw as my brothers played-” he smiled, seeing you look at him bewildered. “Y'know. To make sure no one cheated.”

To which you responded with ‘borrowing’ the board games from your house, bringing them to his apartment. Seeing it as an opportunity to get to know him better through the childrens games. What he liked most about the time spent playing the games was that you'd leave your phone on his kitchen counter, on do not disturb and faced down. He liked that there wasn't anything to distract you from him.

The topic of exes was brought up hesitantly by you- unsure if you wanted to know about his past in that aspect.

Sitting on the floor of his apartment, knees crossed as you faced each other, “Any past lovers I should expect on my doorstep?” You hummed casually, placing a green uno card onto the small stack, “Not that I know of. No.” he smiled to himself, “That you know of?” you asked sarcastically, seeing him place a card into the pile with a scoff.

“No. Don't expect any ‘ex lovers’ at your door-” he called your name almost in a scolding tone. You nodded mockingly, “Any at all?” you examined your cards as you plucked one from your stack. Choso looked at you- unsure of what you were getting at. “No?”

“No girlfriends- or boyfriends- or partne-” you were interrupted by Choso’s shoulders slumping with furrowed eyebrows. Silencing your question as he placed a card onto the pile, “...Can I ask why?” You chirped, seeing his low eyes look up from the colorful cards and think about it.

“There was just never time.” he sighed, feeling embarrassed by your curiosity. Making you nod your head in agreement. Choso didn't even want to think about your exes, how many there were or if you loved any of them. He liked picturing you as an untouched, pristine, glass statue- only to be held by him. And thinking that you will only ever love him.

“Even when you came here?” you pressed, his lips forcing a smile- “Nope.” his response was curt- waiting for you to place a card onto the pile. “Why?” your tone was accusatory- almost as though you were trying to dance around the real reason you were asking these questions. “S’your turn.” he mumbled, looking up from his cards and looking at you, “..What?” you asked confused as to what he was saying.

“It's your turn-” he spoke your name- flashing his eyes down to your cards as you inhaled, understanding what he meant. Picking a random card and placing it onto the stack, Choso looked at your parting lips- daring to keep pressing the question.

Even if he was starting to feel a sliver of irritation- he found it adorable that you were curious about that part of his life. “Choso.” you spoke, earning his eyebrow to arch before he responded with your name in the same tone you used. You sighed in defeat, making him tilt his head to the side. Thinking very hard as he skimmed through the distant memories of anyone he had a crush on growing up.

“Uh- there was my neighbor in the second grade- then in the fourth grade there was this girl who I used to chase around the playground- and then in middle school I started exploring the world of people I could like- then in my freshman year I got my first-” he babbled, oversharing the meaningless information that you asked for with a sarcastic tone, trying to prove a point. “Okay-okay. I get it.” you interrupted with a laugh “I don't see the point in talking about the past when it does nothing for us.” he spoke as he arranged the cards in his hands.

‘Us- I’m already calling me nd you,‘us’ he thought as you spoke “It helps me get to know you.” You defended, “You ever have a question- ask me it directly, please.” he smiled, “Don't dance around it-”

“Have you ever loved anyone?” you interrupted, Choso looked at you with tender eyes. “Like- love, love?” you clarified, only your question didn't need any clarification, Choso knew what you were talking about.

He nodded his head no, “No I haven't.” he admitted, looking down to his cards before picking one and placing it in the growing pile. “Have you ever loved anyone?” he repeated your question, for once, you were left scrambling for words. “N-no.” You admitted almost in defense, “There were times I thought I was in love.” you started, mentally Choso was cursing whatever person you loved before him.

“But I was just a kid. So no, I've never loved anyone.” you finished, placing a card on the useless pile, and gathering the cards since neither of you were really playing the game anymore.

The salty conversation ended right there, Choso didn't want to hear of your past relationships- and you didn't want to embarrass him further by asking again. But the tension in the air was gone the next time you saw him, bringing up how you were thinking of moving out of your house.

Choso’s hands picking upa stack of playing cards and shuffling them with his hands, “Why?” he asked, scanning your irritated expression as you thought about the roommates waiting for you. “People just- suck.” you smiled, seeing his hands carefully put away the cards in the torn up box. Standing up and walking towards the kitchen counter, eyeing your phone as his back faced you.

Knowing you wouldn't be able to see if he took a peek- just one peek.

Pretending to keep idle hands as he feigned looking at the game boards, “Your roommates again?” he asked as his hand inched towards your phone. Hearing you let out an exaggerated sigh, “Yes, they've been extra annoying recently.” you closed your eyes, waiting for him to come back with a new game.

Choso gulped, his fingers flipping the side of your phone quietly, “Why's that?” he mindlessly replied as your phone screen light up. Seeing you kept the family picture of him and his brothers as your background, “They've been nagging and nagging about how I don't do my ‘chores’-” you complained, “I'm not even there as much anymore.” you continued.

Choso’s eyes scanned the growing list of notifications- squinting his eyes as he saw a text from a contact named ‘asshole’. You sighed, defeated by the growing list of issues awaiting you at that house. “And I'm broke.” You closed your eyes, leaning on your palms as you leaned your head back. “Broke huh?” he muttered, scrolling as he smiled at your claim.

“Yup. No more sugar daddy money left- which is unfortunate.” You whispered to yourself. Choso heard it- but to protect his peace and not pick a fight over your choice of words. He ignored that little comment.

“Scrabble?” he mindlessly asked, “Nah s’too much thinking for me right now.”

‘See you later today’ the message read with a heart, Choso couldn't help but think that you were being lured into something from that message, “How about-” he trailed on, placing your phone back onto the counter quietly as you sighed, “Connect 4?” he picked up the battered box and heard an agreeing ‘okay’ from your lips.

Walking back to the dedicated ‘board game’ spot at the center of his apartment, sitting down and placing the box between you. “Y'know- I looked at these apartments before I chose to live in that house.” you smiled as he slid the lid off the box, Choso’s face fell- thinking of how cruel the world was for taking away the opportunity of having you as a neighbor.

“You didn't like it here?” he joked, making you let out a small chortle as he set up the blue plastic. “I just didn’t wanna be alone.” you admitted, seeing Choso hold up his hands- a red chip in one and a yellow chip in the other, taking the red chip from his hand before he pushed your chips to your side of the grid.

“And you're thinking of moving into a unit?” he scoffed almost sarcastically, waiting for you to decide where to put your first chip. “I mean- even if they're constantly freezing. I just might.” you admitted honestly, seeing Choso’s fingers hover above the slot. Staring at you as he pictured you being his neighbor.

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, “You don't like that idea?” you scoffed, seeing him nod his head ‘no’ before dropping a yellow chip into one of the slots, “You're probably thinking, ‘gee why not just move into my apartment while you're at it.” You giggled, dropping a red chip into the grid without thinking too hard, Choso titled his head- almost as though that's exactly what he was thinking.

“M’kidding. Choso.” You clarified, making him exhale at how flustered he was starting to feel. “It wouldn't be any different than it is now though-” you smiled, seeing his shaky hand drop a chip into the game- almost purposefully avoiding the ones you previously dropped, “I'm already here everyday.” you scoffed, unknowing your words were only making Choso’s ears burn below his hair.

“S-speaking of-” he found an opening of asking you the question that had been heavy in his mind ever since you brought it up, “I was thinking about- uh-” he struggled to find the words, “The uh….date?” he stuttered, blinking his eyes down to his chips and back at you.

“You remember that?” you smiled, if he was being honest- the words hit him like a ton of bricks aimed directly to his heart. “...You don't?” he asked- pained and saddened. “Of course I do- I just,” you grimaced, “Didn't expect you to remember.” you admitted, “Y’know, since you were dying of bubonic plague.” you joked as you dropped a red chip into the game.

“It was a small cold-” he defended, “And I do remember.” he continued, scanning your lax expression as he tried stepping through the seemingly difficult conversation.

“I wasn't gonna hold it against you-” you smiled, “You were feverish and on the brink of death-” you bantered, “I was not.” he defended himself, “You wanna take me out on a date Choso?” you asked teasingly- already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him again.

“Will you let me?” he blushed, you looked at him surprised by his quick quip. With a smug smile, you were thinking things that should not be thought of at that moment.

pt 11 here

IM SOOOO SORRY FOR TAKING SOO LONG, PT 11 WILL BE POSTED ON VALENTINES DAY..... HEHEHEHE... (when can I start writing about the intimate things ;-;)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

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lalacliffthorne · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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

I hated being sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ow.

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

Help.

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

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

Of course that had not kept him away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won't.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#azriel #az #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel imagine #azriel/reader #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #acotar x reader #acomaf #acotar #acowar #lalacliffthorne #azriel drabble

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loulouwrites · 6 months ago

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THE NIGHT WATCH . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's eldest son is sick - he won't leave his bedside. warnings: illness, swearing, thoughts surrounding the death of a child, melancholy, unedited, angst, violence, discussions regarding the death of a child word count: 1.5k a/n: a lil drabble form the home series! i'm honoured by the love people have for this family. i know i'm not the most active on here but i just wanna say if anybody wants to talk to me (about anything) don't hesitate to hit me up! (i am still putting my taglist together but I completely forgot about it when I wrote this - forgive me pls)

It had been going around for a while now.

Some illness spreading around London that had children dropping left, right and centre.

Some children barely got a sore throat, and those that did were usually better after a few days, but he had heard the stories of the unlucky few, the children that had been bed bound for weeks before silently passing in their sleep.

He hadn't thought much of it at first - he found stories about other people's children mind numbingly boring - even the saddest accounts he had heard had barely registered in his mind.

When Benjamin had started coughing one morning, he had rolled his eyes, insisting he wouldn't get out of school that easily. His wife - who was gentler and kinder than he could ever be - had laid her hands on her son's cheeks, instructing him to go back to bed with a kiss on his forehead.

It had caused quite a tiff between the couple.

"You're too fuckin' soft," Alfie had told her, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"And you're too fucking hard on him," she had spat back, smacking his hand away.

She had been right, of course.

When Alfie returned home that night, the house was eerily quiet. No children greeted him at the door, even Bubbe the dog had barely looked up from her bed by the fireplace.

He had found them in the master bedroom, his wife had pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was dabbing a damp cloth on his son's forehead.

He would never forget the way Benjamin looked lying on the bed, his face pale and his hair sticking to his forehead, the wheezing breaths he took being the only sound in the room.

"I sent the children to my mum's," his wife had said, sitting with her back to him, her eyes completely focused on her little boy lying in the bed. "The doctor said it's highly contagious so they shouldn't be around him - or us."

He could tell she had been crying, her voice quiet and shaky.

Alfie didn't say anything in response, because what could he say? He stepped further in the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on Benjamin's limp body.

"He's fucking boiling, Alfie," she choked out a sob, "he's so hot but he won't stop fucking shivering, I don't know what to do."

Alfie watched as his wife's body shook with sobs, putting her head in her hands as he sat on the bed, silent, confused, and so very scared.

"He'll be alright," his voice held no conviction, almost as shaky as her's was. "He's a tough lad-"

"No, he isn't," she cried, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband. "He isn't. He's sweet and gentle, he isn't tough."

"Love," Alfie shook his head, leaning forward slightly, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter anyways, it doesn't matter how tough he is - or isn't - kids have died, Alfie, they've died from this."

She stood from her seat, pacing the room as he looked on helplessly. He had seen her scared before, he had seen her sad and everything in between, but nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had smudged, and there was already dark circles beginning to form underneath her damp eyes.

"Listen," Alfie rose from the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. "He's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she whispered, hanging her head.

"And you don't know he won't be," he bowed his head to meet her eyes, "but we're going to do everything we can do to help him, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

That had been hours ago.

It was almost three in the morning as Alfie sat on the chair beside the bed, a dimp lamp casting a soft glow on his son's pale face. His wife had fallen asleep on the bed next to Benjamin, and the room was silent apart from the occasional raspy breath from his son.

This was all he could do.

All he could do to help his son was to sit by his bedside and watch him breathe, watch for any sign that Benjamin was struggling, and to press the damp cloth to his face whenever a shiver broke out of his body.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

If it were any other situation, they would know what to do. If Benjamin had cut his knee when he was playing, his mother would be able to patch him up and make him feel better, if he had gotten into trouble at school, Alfie could pay the teacher's a visit to make sure it never happened again.

But this was completely in the hands of God.

Alfie wasn't a particularly religious man - not in the common sense of the word, at least. He was proud of his identity, he enjoyed the community and sense of belonging it gave him, but he fell short when it came to the believing part of his religion.

He had always thought God was something people used as a comfort in their darkest times, or as an excuse for things not working out the way they had wanted it to, it was never particularly real to him. Yet, as he sat at his son's bedside, with nothing to offer him but a damp cloth, he found himself bowing his head, and silently praying to God that Benjamin would be okay.

He hoped this would be the first time God listened to him.

The doctor had arrived early the next morning, prodding and poking the sick child and humming to himself.

Alfie stood by the doorway with his wife, both of them shuffling slightly on the feet as they waited for the doctor to finish his assessment, their patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

The doctor sighed when he turned to face the parents, a frown on his old and battered face, his beard moving as he scrunched his mouth.

"I see no improvements," he had spoke, and Alfie had to grasp his wife by her waist when he body began to collapse, another sob racking her body.

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked, his hands still secure around his crying wife.

"It means that you should prepare for the worst."

"No, no, no, no," she whispered, her legs giving way for the second time.

"If he recovers it will be a miracle, I've seen stronger boys succumb to this illness."

Maybe it was the doctor's tone of indifference when he spoke, maybe it was the feeling of his wife's body shaking uncontrollably in his arms, maybe he was just looking for somebody to take his frustration out on, whatever possessed Alfie in that moment to let go of his wife and grab the doctor by the collar, slamming his body into the wall, was as fierce and raw as the fear gripping his heart.

"Now you listen here," Alfie growled, his face inches away from the doctor's. "My son will not die. You know how I know that?" the doctor shook his head, his face reddening in fear. "I know that because you are going to fix him. If you don't, it'll be your body they wheel out of here."

The doctor's eyes widened, and Alfie was sure he was about to start crying. "Mr Solomons, there's nothing I can do, I would if I could-"

"You will," Alfie roared, pulling the doctor back slightly only to slam him back into the wall harder. "You will find a way."

Just as Alfie pulled his arm back, his hand curled into a fist, his wife's voice called out to him.

"This won't help Benjamin, Alfie. Just stop it."

Alfie released the doctor, who gasped for breath, his face pale. He turned to his wife, his face softening. "He can't die."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He won't die," she muttered into his chest, "you won't let him."

It was nearing nine o'clock at night when Benjamin started to stir in the bed. His mother had yet again, fallen asleep at his side, and Alfie was sat in the uncomfortable chair by the bed.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice weak.

"I'm here, mate," Alfie said, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm here."

"I don't feel well."

"You're not well, mate," Alfie leaned forward, placing his palm on Benjamin's forehead, which was already beginning to cool.

"I told you I wasn't just trying to get out of school," Benjamin choked out, and Alfie let out a hearty laugh, startling his wife awake.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, sitting up and cupping Benjamin's face in her hands. "Thank God."

"You might catch it, mum," Benjamin groaned when his mother bent down to pepper kisses on his face.

"Still sharp as ever, I see," Alfie muttered, the tension in his body seemingly disappearing.

"We need to ring the doctor," his wife said, and Alfie shot her an unimpressed look in response. "A different doctor," she conceded. "Though him being awake means the worst is over."

"What did I tell ya?" Alfie grinned. "Tough as nails, this one."

#alfie solomons fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader

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bluebellhairpin · 4 days ago

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Sandor Clegane X Fem!Reader

Summary: A Mouse and a Hound, sounds like the start of a bad joke. It only gets worse when one's been scarred by ice, the other by fire. Who would've guessed they'd help each other face their fears before one chooses to face death. (word count; 8.7K <)

Warnings: Canon-typical themes. Probaby a 'too soft'/ooc Sandor. Injuries + blood + scars. Character death. Fighting. Swearing. Sandor and Reader match each other's jealous freak. Sexual themes (Smut is implied but not shown + they talk about fucking a lot.). Borderline eloping. Pregnancy + food cravings (chicken). Reader is fem bodied + she/her pronouns + called woman/daughter/wife/mother + smaller than Sandor + nicknamed Mouse.

Listening to: 'I Bet on Losing Dogs' by Mitski - "I bet on losing dogs. I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place by the ring... I'll be there on their side, I'm losing by their side."

AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Ice. It can be as thick as stone or thin like parchment paper. It can form as frost, snow, sleet and hail. Most often it covers lakes, rivers and the ocean in the cold weather of winter. Ice is water in its frozen, solid form. And right now you were standing on a giant lake covered in ice.

In the beginning it was so thick, covered in snow so well, that none of you even realised what it was you ran onto. With the weight of the wights swarming at your heels, though, it began to creak and groan.

The noise of the crack below your feet echoed in your mind. Nothing else mattered as you skid to a stop on shaky legs. Your eyes fixed on the slippery ice below, peripherals caught your group continuing to run away - to safety, thank the gods - and wights behind you fell into the water below, but strangely all you could see was your sister.

Her face floated beneath the ice, frozen in time in a place she wasn’t supposed to be, face dead from a time long ago. The wrights disappeared, the new shouts of your friends faded. You couldn’t look away. You’d spent so long trying not to remember what happened all those years ago, running from it, yet here you were.

No longer were you a woman grown battle-hard, but a girl who was foolish enough to ignore your parents warning to not play on the frozen lake. You’d brought your younger sister with you, so young and trusting, of course she’d believe her big sister wouldn’t lead her toward pain. You were supposed to protect her, love her, care for her. You’d see other children sliding around on the ice, so when your chores were done and the lake was void of others, you took your sister’s hand and told her you’d be able to play anything you both wanted without worrying about being knocked over by an older child.

Having the lake to yourselves was supposed to be fun.

It was the worst mistake you’d ever made in your whole life.

Winter was leaving. Although you were in the North, the ice was still thinning. No one else was there because they knew better. You didn’t know better. It took you both two laps before the ice cracked. One step was all it took to no longer support your weight. Your world was plunged into ice cold darkness. The freezing water hit your lungs, causing you to gasp on reflex. Your lungs filled with water, your eyes stung from the cold. You kicked and grasped for the surface, and reached it just before it was too late. Clawing at the ice, you pulled yourself to the thicker ice, coughing and shivering, thanking the Old Gods that you hadn’t drowned.

Then you noticed your sister was gone.

You sister whose hand you were holding. Who you dragged down with you after the ice cracked from your weight. Your weight, not hers. You couldn’t see her. She was so young. She couldn’t swim. It was all your fault.

You screamed her name. Screamed for help. Tears ran hot down your face. By the time help came the sun was fading, your throat was raw and your hands were sore, frozen and bloodied from pounding on the ice. You were shivering so hard your teeth felt like they’d crack. The people around you called your name. You couldn’t look away from the water.

They called your name again, and her face was all you could see below your feet.

Again, and she floated away. Down so deep no one could find her, not even when summer came again.

Again. Your name. Louder. Rougher. More desperate. You looked up from the ice. There was your group. Your friends. And Sandor Clegane. There was so much distance between you and yet you could see fear in his eyes like it was written on paper in your own hands.

Turning behind, you saw wights. Most had stopped still, but the ones closest to you were reaching toward you. Swiping and grasping at the air between you. They were so close. But so was the crack in the ice. It was the only thing dividing you from them - the only thing stopping them from coming closer, and the only thing stopping you from running to your friends. To Sandor.

Sandor had been your companion for so long, and now he wouldn't stop yelling at you to run. You’d run on ice before, it ended with your sister dead. He knew that. He was the only one who did - not Jon, not Tormund, no one else in the whole world had bared their fears to you like Sandor, so you hadn’t bared yours to them. Sandor knew why you couldn’t move, for you it was like the fire that rendered him useless, and yet.

“Come on you bitch, move!” he yelled.

Somehow his words hit you like a tonne of bricks. Your breathing picked up. You stopped listening to the ice. All you could hear was your heartbeat. All you could see was Sandor.

Your foot shifted, the ice groaned under your weight, it cracked behind you as you moved, but you ran. You weren’t even looking when you started running, keeping your eyes closed was the only way you could move at all. If Sandor’s face was the last thing you saw, so be it. You were sure that was going to be true.

Yet as your legs started the burn from how hard you ran, arms encased you. Frosted fur was under your fingertips, and your feet left the ground as your speed made you swing in the hold of whoever caught you. Your eyes opened and you sobbed. You did it. The ice didn’t crack. You made it to Sandor and you were safe. For now anyway, but that was all that mattered.

“You can slaughter wights, but ice is what gets you shaken up.” Sandor said as a cold calloused fingertip traced your jaw with a featherlight touch. “What a woman.”

“Don’t tease me.” you said between the chattering of your teeth. Funny, the cold hadn’t hit you until now.

“I ain’t teasing,” Sandor let you go slowly, as if pulling away would make you fall apart like broken glass. It mightn’t be a far truth with how much you were shaking. His voice was the softest you’d ever heard it. “I just didn’t believe you when you said you were afraid. While you may be quiet as a Mouse you’ve never been afraid like one, but the look on your face made me think you were gonna die.”

“Would you pick water over wine?” you said, “Of course I was scared. Felt like I was going to shit out my own heart.”

“Ah, now I see why the Hound likes you.” Tormund said, nodding with his arms crossed. “You sound just like him. Like a bitch. I like that.”

“Fuck off.” Both you and Sandor spoke at the same time. The contrast between how he growled and you shuddered was comical, but the fact you both said it at the same time made the others laugh despite your dire circumstances. Tormund could only look at you as if to say ‘told you so’.

You looked up at Sandor, he was already looking down at you. With the energy you had left, you could only resign to letting it be. They could say all they wanted about your fondness for him, and his for you. At the end of the day you could deny it all you wanted but it wouldn't make it less true. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your shaking body to him as your group moved to the centre of the island you'd found yourselves on.

Now all you had left to do was hope the Dragon Queen Daenerys knew to come to your aid - because with the wights surrounding you, there was no way you were getting out of there on your own. Maybe it would've been better to have fallen into the lake.

There was a time when you were never so scared of ice - a feeling lost long ago to the passage of time. There was also a time when you didn’t know Sandor from a stranger on the street. You might never have met him at all if not for being in the right place at the right time.

You supposed the Starks were the cause of a lot of things in your lives.

You happened to be in Winterfell all those years ago when King Robert Baratheon visited Ned Stark. You were a messenger - one of the best - travelling all across the North had been your job over the few years prior. Ned insisted you stayed for the King’s feast before you left again, reasoning that your hard work needed to be rewarded now and then - beyond silver stags you were paid in.

So you joined the Starks to greet the King’s entourage, and that was where you saw Sandor Clegane for the first time. His eyes were hard and disinterested from under the dog helm he wore, and he was so large and imposing - but he was so quiet. The only words you ever heard him speak were when you’d come up behind him to offer to take the reins on his horse. He hadn’t heard you coming, and almost knocked you on your feet when you tapped his shoulder armour.

“Fucking mouse.” he’d said.

You however didn’t speak to him during that night at Winterfell, or at all during the days that followed, but you watched him. Saw him push away a mug of ale for a jug of wine. Watched as he ate, and watched as he walked away with Prince Joffrey. Really, it had taken a couple years to speak to him after you first met him.

Years after Robert Baratheon died, and Ned Stark was executed - you met him again. He was travelling with Arya near the kingsroad.

You’d spent the last few years working for Robb, King in the North. His father and mother had always trusted you to ferry messages and items all across the North, so he did too. You served faithfully until you took a message to the Bolton’s at the Dreadfort. Thereafter Ramsay Snow had taken you as a plaything, which had left you naked and alone in the woods one night with your back and shoulders torn to bloodied ribbons. A couple of farmers from the nearby Hornwood had found you, nursed you back to health - and with news that Robb was still at The Twins, you started travelling there as soon as your healing wounds allowed it.

News reached you of a justifiably dubbed Red Wedding, and the massacre that happened to the Stark army at The Twins. You knew you couldn’t go there anymore. It wasn’t safe there for you, and it wasn’t safe to go back North on your own either, not with the Bolton’s spiders crawling everywhere. So you went south. Aimlessly you followed the Kingsroad, and who else did you meet but a missing Stark daughter.

Arya had recognised you immediately. Your heart sang at the way her face lit up, and at seeing she was alive. She’d been lost after her father died, laying your eyes on her yourself was such a relief. Especially after hearing what the Frey’s did to Robb and Catelyn.

It took Sandor a moment longer. A few moments, actually. He’d dismounted his horse and watched you embrace Arya before giving a name to your face.

“Mouse,” he said. His face was hard to read, but you could see something in his eyes had changed since you last saw him shadowing Joffrey.

“Hound,” you replied. Apparently he didn’t like that. Sandor sneered down at you when he spoke again.

“Bitch.”

“Hey!” Arya said, turning from where she once held onto you. “She’s done nothing worth insults. Don’t call her that.”

“I can call her what I like - I’d bet money I don’t even have that she’s going to stop me from handing you in and getting my ransom.” Arya stepped forward as if to start arguing with the man before you set a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry Arya,” you said, “he can spew insults all he likes. I can see the stick that's shoved up his arse, must be uncomfortable. He has my sympathies to do as he pleases with his words.” Your comment both made Arya burst into giggles and Sandor turn away to mumble to himself. You mounted your horse, and as Arya climbed on after you.

“I’ll let you ride with her only if you follow me like there’s a leash on your horse, understand?” Sandor asked, turning his horse to stand right in front of yours. His eyes were just as hard as they were all those years ago at Winterfell, but they were no longer disinterested. Instead he looked at you in a way that made you feel like he was going to eat you alive. “Unless I have to leash you like a bitch?”

“My back is aching from when a Bolton bastard set his dogs on me, I don’t have the strength to match your insults right now, Ser.” You said. Arya was quiet behind you, the only reaction she had to your words was loosening her grip on your waist.

“I’m not a knight.” Was the only thing Sandor said before urging his horse to walk.

He only ever called you Mouse after that.

Fire. From a forest burning to a candle flame, it can be the difference between death or life. It can heat your home or leave the air smelling thick of smoke and ash. It can help wounds heal or can be the cause of them. Fire is as dangerous as heat can get. And right now there was an entire moat-worth of fire surrounding Winterfell.

You knew that the attack of the Night King was going to be bad - you’d seen the wights firsthand, fought them already, and you’d seen a White Walker take down a whole dragon. The worst part, by far, was having to wait and not being able to see nothing of what was coming, nothing except the ice cold winds of an early winter. The dragonfire helped as the battle started - but it also didn’t. You wanted to see, but as soon as you did you wished you hadn’t.

The sight flashed in your mind like a flickering flame. Coming and going. Waves and hordes of wights as far as the eye could see.

Daenerys’ army and the other soldiers had retreated back into Winterfell’s walls. You stood beside Arya watching the wights get burnt by the flames. They already smelt like death - rot and dirt and cold flesh - now their bodies were thawing and burning, and the smell of charred skin and muscle was being carried high by the smoke. You’d never smelt flesh burn before. You wondered if this was the smell that haunted Sandor.

You turned to look down at the returned soldiers lined up in formation in the courtyard below, searching for Sandor’s face among the dozens of men. When you couldn’t find him you turned back around. What if he hadn’t made it back inside the gate?

The thought that crossed your mind then was so strange. You wished you were facing a thousand frozen lakes. If you were, Sandor would be right by your side the whole time. He had no fear of ice, not like you did. The fire before you had scared him away from your side, if he was still around at all - but you’d much rather fear eaten him alive than death. The realisation shook you. Even now the strongest, most fearless man you ever knew was gone. Because he was scared.

You had a second realisation then. That one made you step away from the wall you perched by with dread - not because the wight’s had figured out how to cross the flames, but because Sandor was probably all alone.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked, watching as you slowly started to move.

“I need to be down there,” you said, your hand grazed her shoulder as you walked past, “I’ll see you in the morning.” you promised. Turning on your heel, you rushed down the stairs, almost slipping on the last one, to reach the soldiers below and begin pushing through them to find Sandor’s face among them.

“Ready yourselves, they’re going to breach the wall!” Someone shouted behind you, but you were too focused on hunting down your Hound. Really, you almost went right past him. He was hiding in a doorway, and if you hadn’t locked eyes you would’ve lost him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, rushing forward. “We need you to help us fight Sandor.” you said. You pushed yourself up, trying to level your face with his own. His head shook, clearly disagreeing.

“It’s fucking useless. Death’s at our door, it’s all around us we can’t fight that.” He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes reflected the orange glow of fire. He wasn’t listening to you, he was listening to the fire. “There’s no point.”

“And death was below my feet yet you made me run from it - and I did run from it, for you!” You said, an emotion reaching your voice that you hadn’t let show yet. “Fuck everyone else, I need you Sandor. I need you to fight. I can’t do it without you.”

Sandor looked at you then. His dark eyes no longer held an orange glow, instead they flickered across your face, distracted. You read him, saw his brow furrow and lips part open - he was going to argue. But you weren’t going to have that. You swung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him down to crash his lips to yours. It was a hard kiss, one that lasted too long to be considered safe in your circumstances, but it was distracting. Grounding. You needed to bring Sandor out of his own mind, and a kiss was a nicer way to do it than a slap to the face.

“If you don’t live to see the end of this night I’m going to find that red witch to bring you back to life so I can kill you myself.” You said with a gasp, pulling away with a hand on your sword. He seemed dazed, yet you could tell he was indeed more focused. “I need you to stay alive,” you added as you backed away to join the fight, “when this is all over I want you to fuck me.”

You were bloodied and covered in dirt, somehow limping, your head hurt like seven hells and you couldn’t stop smelling smoke, but you were alive. Somehow you were alive. The thought made you want to cry.

Not knowing if the same could be said about Sandor did make you cry. Tears blurred your vision as you searched. Every body laid dead wasn’t him, but neither was anyone left standing. It felt like your heart was breaking.

You stumbled through each hallway and room until you reached the doors to the main hall. Who knew what was waiting for you beyond the doors. You refused to dwell on it, instead shouldering the heavy oak open. Your knees almost gave way when you saw Sandor standing beside Melisandre. You surged forward, very nearly jumping into his arms. One wrapped around your waist while the other cradled your head close to his own. If you weren’t so busy being relieved you might’ve teased him about going soft.

But really you didn’t care about that right now at all.

You pulled away, letting him hold your weight completely as you took his face in yours hands.

“You’re alive.” you breathed, smiling in disbelief.

“A mouse told me you needed me to stay alive.” Sandor said, lips quirked up in a rare smile, “Couldn’t let down my woman.”

You’d counted the losses, burned your dead, and now were celebrating those who’d stayed alive. The feast, in all honesty, was magnificently loud. You were sure the only reason you’d lasted this long was because the shock of being alive hadn’t worn off yet.

Tormund had ushered you over to his table of Wildlings, and you'd already decided that you were going to steal their jug of wine when you went back to Sandor. The Wildling leader had his arm slung over your shoulder, swaying on his feet as he told some story about his life beyond the Wall. You were sure his story was as gripping as it was daring, but you really weren’t paying him mind at all. Your eyes weren’t leaving Sandor, and his weren’t leaving you.

He was looking at you like someone crossed a horny dog with a jealous badger, the jealous part flaring whenever Tormand leaned closer to talk right in your ear. He was drunk, and you’d learnt he was quite harmless - Sandor however probably didn’t know that. For everyone’s sake you probably should find your way out from under Tormund’s arm. After all he had the other occupied with another woman, and his drink, both of which would see his night ended happily.

You’d barely looked away from Sandor to grab the wine jug, turning to make up some excuse to pry Tormund’s arm off you when the man interrupted your unspoken words.

“Look,” Tormund leant down once again, whispering loudly in your ear as if attempting to be subtle, “A dead woman!” He pointed behind you, and you turned to see that indeed there was a woman. One who had sat herself down in the seat next to Sandor. Your seat.

“Excuse me,” you said, pulling away with the jug heavy in one hand, slipping an unused dinner knife in your other.

“Watch this lads, you’ll wish she was your wife after this.” You heard Tormund announce to his table as you stalked away. The poor lady had no idea you were coming.

You stood behind them, quickly your hand passed between them both as you reached forward. The tip of your stolen knife narrowly missed where the woman’s hand rested on the table. She jumped in her seat, hand flinching away into her lap, and looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Seeing as you need your tongue to suck a cock, and you probably want to keep yours, I suggest you fuck off and try and weasel your way into someone else’s man’s trousers.” You pulled the knife away from where it jammed into the wood, and she scurried away. In the background you heard a group of men erupt in laughter as you pushed the wine before Sandor, taking up the seat by his side.

“I was handling that.” Sandor said, watching as you settled into a place by his side which was much closer than anyone else would be allowed.

“The fuck you were.” you replied, reaching for his empty cup and filling it. He moved his arm from where you’d squished it between your sides, instead now letting his hand rest on your waist.

“I was.” he disagreed.

“Do you want to get in my pussy tonight or do you want to keep arguing?” You swivelled in your seat to face him, tilting your head. You could tell he was about ready to give up, a smile playing on his lips.

“Both sound like a good time to me.” he said, pulling you a little closer as he spoke, but he relented. Who would’ve ever guessed that you’d be the one to get the great fearsome Hound to heel so nicely.

You could see Sansa slowly walking over, her eyes were on Sandor. She must’ve felt you looking at her because then she looked at you. The softness of her face made you smile, and as much as you’d loved to stay and spend time with her, you could tell there were things that needed to be said between her and Sandor.

Moving to stand, Sandor’s hand tightened its hold on you. Before you left you lent down to capture him in a kiss. Short and sweet, and tasting like wine, a hint of what was to come later.

“You know where my room is.” you said, having distracted him enough to now start to move away.

“I’d knock down every door if I didn’t.” He squeezed your hip one last time before letting you slip away.

Having been a friend of the Starks for so long, and having done so much for them had granted you your own room. No communal servant’s barracks for you. Your room though was still small, but it was yours. There was a lit hearth, a washbasin, and a good bed - they’d even given you a large rug to cover the parts of the floor that were left without furniture.

You stood staring at the bed. It was plenty big enough when there was just you, Sandor though was a much larger person. Where it might fit two of you, It might just be comfortable for one of him. You smiled though, since it meant you’d just have to stay close to him if he did stay the whole night with you.

You really hoped he would stay. Really you’d want him to stay with you forever, but that decision wasn’t yours to make. You could only wish he felt the same.

A knock on your door had your heart skipping a beat. You barely had to open it before Sandor came in and shut it behind him. You took a step back as he stepped in. His only move then was to take your cheek in the palm of his hand.

“You promised. Gonna live up to that?” he asked. You stepped forward, placing your hand over his while your other looped under his belt to pull him closer.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” you said, “and my mind’s never been changed. I want as much of you as you can give me.” Sandor looked down at you with a smile.

Before you could blink, he reached down and his arm wrapped around the back of your thighs. Your hands grasped his shoulders as he lifted you into the air, and his face was level with your chest. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and by the gods the way he made you feel so small was almost inhuman. Though, the way it excited you was borderline heavenly.

“Careful what you wish for.”

Indeed you were right, the bed was just too small for the both of you to spread out comfortably.

You couldn’t really say you wanted to do that though. His skin was so warm, heartbeat so strong under our palm, and despite how sticky you both were with sweat, being so close to him felt so nice. It was like finally soaking into a hot bath - the relief and pleasure of it even now it was all over - it was like you needed him.

Floating in and out of sleep and awake while being wrapped in him under the furs of your bed was indeed what heaven must feel like.

Although it had you thinking in among your dazed and hazy pockets of sleep. How strange it was that Sandor seemed to feel the same way. He hadn’t let you so much as move to be by his side, let alone let you go.

He’d never been quite like this before - tolerated it from you, sure, but never recoperated to such an extent. It made you feel like something was wrong.

Your head raised from where it was tucked just below his burn scar, and you felt his arms shift to keep you close as you pulled back just enough to see his face clearly through the last light of the candles burning.

“Something is wrong.” you said. Sandor’s chest rose and fell beneath you in a sigh. So there was something he wasn’t telling you. His lips stayed sealed shut though, and you weren’t going to have that. “Sandor, tell me.” you whispered.

“I can’t stay,” he replied.

The way he spoke had genuine concern rising inside you, you’d never heard him talk like that before in your whole life - maybe he never even had until now. It wasn’t that you were worried about him leaving you, although the thought had you feeling so sad you could be angry, but instead you were filled with an awful amount of dread. It was like he was telling you he wasn’t coming back. Like he was dying.

“I want to but, fuck, I can’t. There’s something I have to do and no one else can do it for me.” That made you think back to all the times he confided in you about revenge. It hit you like a wall of stone - that he was leaving you to go kill his brother. Somehow he must’ve felt it land in your heart. A calloused hand ran up your back, lightly tracing your scars up to your shoulders, pushed you back down so your head rested next to his, body pressed flush to his own.

You felt like the only thing you could do was hold onto him tighter, sliding your hands in under his back and pressing yourself so close that your ribs might just open up and keep him there with you instead. But they weren’t, so instead you just let your tears fall.

“But you’ll die.” you whispered, lips tickled by the hair of his beard since you now refused to let him go.

“I know.” he said, and with the gentleness of a much smaller and kinder man, he turned his head and kissed the tears away from your cheeks. “Don’t cry. I’m not worth your tears.”

“No Sandor, you’re worth so much more than that. I’d give my life for yours. I can’t believe you can’t see it for yourself.” Your hands curled, fingernails digging into his skin. Sandor didn’t flinch, perhaps he saw the pain as a just punishment for cracking your heart in two, so you relented, instead pressing your nose into his neck. “I don’t know if I can live without you now.”

For what felt like a long time, he didn’t say a word. He let you cry some more, and didn’t once try to stop you, just held you as close and hard as you held him. Over his breathing, you heard the coals in the fire crackle one last time and fall into the soft ashes.

Your tears had stopped, and breathing turned shallow, when he spoke again.

“When I close my eyes for the last time I want to see your face,” he said. Under your chest, his heartbeat quickened. “The face of my wife.”

A moment passed.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” It took him longer to answer you, you thought perhaps you didn’t say it outloud.

“Does it sound like I am?”

You sat up, palms on his chest as he looked up at you with his hands gripping your hips and waist.

“Sort of? But right after you told me you’re going to fuck off and kill your cunt brother? Your timing is a bit shitty.” you asked. His hand squeezed your hip and his eyes fixed straight up onto the ceiling.

“It’s selfish, to marry you just to make you a widow, I know that but I think you know I’m not someone who thinks much of others.” You leant back over him then. Forearms framing his head as you brought your face over his.

“You do, you think of others often. I know your heart’s bigger than you realise - that’s why I’ll marry you.” The way his face changed when he heard your soft words from one of self-loathing to one full of love - all directed at you - made you wish you hadn’t spent so much time not sharing a bed. “We can do it tonight. We can wake the septa, no one else has to be there.”

“No, no Faith fuckers.” he responded gruffly before pausing, “Unless you want that?” He backtracked so fast it almost made you laugh. You shook your head though. You were from the North, if you believed in gods at all, the Seven weren’t yours.

“I’d rather go before the Old Gods -”

“- then we’ll do that.” Sandor cut you off. He sat up then, with you still placed nicely in his lap. The furs on your bed almost slid away, but he held them up to your shoulders so the cold night air didn’t reach you. “If we do it, we’ll fucking do it properly.”

You knew how foreign to proprietary Sandor was, it almost wasn’t even a word in his vocabulary. You’d thought about marrying him in the past, what that kind of life would be like. You’d imagined just running off someplace no one knew your names and saying you were husband and wife. Never once did an actual wedding cross your mind, yet here Sandor was offering it to you on a hastily prepared silver platter.

It made your heart ache in such a bittersweet way. Why did you both have to wait until it was almost too late?

There were very few people who you could think of to wake for a last minute wedding in the middle of the hour of the wolf. Night was at its darkest, people would be in the dead of sleep. Or that’s what you thought when you and Sandor carefully chose who you wanted most to be there.

Arya was the first person both you and Sandor could think of. She either wasn’t sleeping at all or was having a hard time doing so, because when you knocked on her door she was as awake as you were. The way her face lit up reminded you of when you first saw her after hearing about her brother and mother’s death.

She’d immediately thought of Sansa, as if you hadn’t already. You said Sandor was doing the same as you were with the elder Stark sister, so instead she offered to get Jon herself. As Warden of the North, and head of Winterfell, by right he was the only person who could properly officiate a marriage before the Old Gods. You barely gave her permission to go fetch him before she was off down the hallway to get him all on her own.

There was only one person left for you to get then.

By the time you’d reached the Godwood, there were a surprising amount of torches lined up and around the weirwood heart tree. It had seemed that while a lot of people in Winterfell had gone to bed, word had spread to those who had continued to stay up to celebrate or couldn’t sleep. Sandor and you only invited four people, yet there were at least a dozen torches, maybe more.

Arya and Sansa stood lining the short pathway you were to walk to reach Sandor near the base of the tree. On the other side you saw the faces of Brienne and Gendry. Among the more distant crowd there were people from across Winterfell, and the glint of a gold hand could be seen from the torchlight. Even Daenerys with her white hair had quietly joined with a content look on her face, and a torch in her hand just like everyone else.

You almost couldn’t believe that all those people were awake, yet thought this was worth leaving their beds for. But then you supposed rounding out a victory celebration with a wedding was a hell of a way to do it. Or for some an excuse to prolong their drinking and eating just that bit longer. Whatever the reason, you didn’t really care.

All you cared about was the man waiting for you below the white barked tree, and how badly you wished that this was under different circumstances - that he wasn’t doing it just because he was leaving you to die tomorrow.

"Who comes before the Old Gods on this night?" Said Jon. You had no family, at least none who could come to Winterfell so quickly. Jon was already occupied, so there was only one other person you could think of to drag out of bed to represent you at your wedding. And he was someone who’d probably never been to a Northern wedding once in his whole life.

In fact he was someone who thought you and Sandor were already married.

"A daughter of the North comes here.” Tormund said, he paused for a moment, swaying on his feet as he tried to remember the words Jon hastily tried to get him to memorise. “A woman, grown,” He finally started, “She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods to be wed. Who comes to claim her?" Sandor stepped forward, hands clasped together in front of his belt. He was refusing to look at anyone else but you.

“Sandor of House Clegane. Who gives her?"

"Tormund.” Tormund said, you could see from the way Jon’s eyebrows raised that he was expected to say more. “Giantsbane. Of the True North.” He added. Jon sighed as Arya snickered from where she stood to your right.

"Will you take this man?" Jon asked you. You looked up at Sandor, smiling as an overwhelming urge to cry rose inside you. You willed it down, wanting to keep on a facade that tonight was happy, and not the sweetest goodbye in the whole world.

"I take this man." you said.

You hadn’t seen Sandor in months. You couldn’t lie, you didn’t expect him to come back, both of you knew that a fight against Gregor Clegane was always one that ended in death.

News travelled fast about the destruction of Kings Landing. You hadn’t heard from him since then, there was really no other conclusion to come to except that he’d been part of the massacure. You desperately hoped that Gregor died too, that at least if you did lose Sandor it wasn’t in vain.

Despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it. So you ran. Weeks ago, you’d arrived at the Wall to meet with Tormund. Almost all the places that you called home were haunted by Sandor - you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You couldn’t stand to be in the North, so you decided to go beyond. Somewhere where no one would know your name or his.

A land of ice and snow was better than having to stay where everything reminded you of him. If you stayed, you would’ve flung yourself off the tallest tower you could find - and that, you knew now, would’ve been counterintuitive to preserving what Sandor had left behind.

Most of those in Castle Black gave you a wide berth. You didn’t blame them, you weren’t really making yourself friendly. But one awkward conversation about what happened had Tormund acting almost like a guard dog. ‘Nothing could take down your man’ Tormund had said - you would’ve bet money that there were tears in your eyes when you replied ‘You’ve never met his brother’. It was good, having Tormund watching your back like that, since no one ever asked you what happened, but it was bad because no one ever asked you anything anymore.

Most of your days were spent on top of the Wall, waiting until the day you could leave with the Wildlings when they left to return to their home. Not many joined you up there. Tormund came at least once a day, ‘to make sure you haven’t fallen off’ - usually around dinnertime. Any other time meant something happened which he deemed worth your attention.

“A raven came.” Tormund said one day, “It’s from Winterfell.” You could see the crumpled paper in his hand over the fur of your cloak. You turned back to the ledge.

“I don’t want to read it.” Your arms crossed under your cloak, resting over your stomach.

“You should.” He said and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. You turned on your heel, almost coming nose to nose with the Wildling leader.

“Go. Away.” you hissed, bearing your teeth at him in a way akin to a cornered dog. He stared at you down his nose, watching as your eyes flickered over his face, and then as you turned away again.

Apparently though he wasn’t done.

“Jon’s coming.” He started again. You almost rolled your eyes - the man couldn’t leave anything alone. You just hoped this wasn’t the raven that brought the message of Sandor’s death. “Since you’re going to be a bitch about it, you can find out the rest when he arrives.”

In a way you supposed that was good news. At the very least laying eyes on Jon would be a familiar comfort. Having him tell you to your face that your husband died could be considered a mercy.

After having spent time at this exact castle a few years ago after the first time you thought Sandor died, it was almost unfit for Jon to not be here. He helped you a lot the first time, maybe he could do it again. Although this time you weren’t sticking around, and this time you had a little more than just yourself to take care of.

Behind you, Tormund sounded like he was beginning to leave when he stopped again.

“And you should come down. Food’s almost ready, you need to eat.” he said.

“I’m not hungry.” you called over your shoulder.

“I’m not telling you to eat for your own sake,” he replied. You looked back at him, and he raised his eyebrows in expectation.

Tormund, somehow, knew about your condition before you realised yourself. You hadn’t had your blood in months, longer than the last time you saw Sandor, and in the beginning you didn’t think much of it. Sometimes you missed it completely, especially considering everything you’d been through. You reasoned the grief alone would be enough. Tormund thought differently.

When you asked him how he knew - which he brought up while supervising you eating on one of the first night’s you arrived at Castle Black - he gestured to your chest, talking about how they looked different, like those of a woman who's going to have a babe.

He was lucky he moved so fast, otherwise the knife you threw at him would’ve ended in his shoulder and not the wall.

Regardless, it made you think. All evidence pointed to it being a possibility, and as the days turned to weeks with no blood, your unwell feeling seemed less like mourning and more like sickness. Now, apparently, your unborn child had become your weakest point. Tormund could use it to make you do just about anything he wanted - which mostly was making you eat and sleep closer to a normal person than you would’ve liked.

So you sighed with one more longing glance beyond the Wall.

“Fine,” you said, “let’s go eat.”

Not two weeks later, and you were atop the Wall again. That day was particularly cold, even the little fire you stood next to wasn’t helping keep you warm. Your teeth chattered, and you cursed the wind, but you didn’t go back down to the castle.

The sun was barely seen in the sky through the clouds, but you could tell it was only midday when you heard the telltale noises of footsteps trekking in your direction. They didn’t sound like Tormund’s, so you didn’t hold back your bite when called out to them.

“Come another step closer and I’ll shove one of these burning logs right up your arse.” you said, refusing to turn around, shoving your hands under your arms to help stop the cold reaching your fingers. “Tormund can go fuck his horse. I’m not falling for it again, if Jon’s here he can come see me himself.”

“That’s a ‘fuck you’ of a welcome if I’ve ever heard one.” That voice. You knew it. Your head whipped around so fast you could have broken your own neck. “I don’t know what else I expected though.” You were dreaming, surely. There was no way Sandor was standing before you.

“I’ve gone mad.” you whispered, unblinking in case closing your eyes for a moment would make him disappear. “You died.”

“I didn’t.” He slowly stepped forward, snow crunching under his feet, and he came to a stop just before the step up to the ledge you stood on. Your face was almost level with his now. Gods, his face was more worn than you remembered, but he sure looked real. “My wife needs me to be alive. So I lived.”

Your hand reached out to his face, tracing the lines of his scar and the edge of his beard. His hand reached out to grab your wrist, head turning so he could kiss your palm. His eyes closed for a moment as your skin touched his, and when his eyes opened again it was like a shot went through your heart. He really was here.

“You really are alive.” you breathed. He smiled, oh how you missed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you. The sight brought a smile to your own face, something you hadn’t done since you last saw him.

“If I’m not, this is the best death a man could ask for.” he said, and his hand snaked under your cloak and found its place right on your hip - where it belonged. You other hand moved to the other side of his face, cradling it in your hold so you could take in every line, scar, and hair.

“No, Sandor Clegane,” you said, near close to tears in relief to have him back, “you’re as alive now as the day I first met you.” With a gentleness like the kind he showed on your last night together, he leant forward and kissed you. He was so warm, you’d missed it so much more having thought you’d never get a chance to feel it again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you almost drowned in the moment of finally holding him again.

You barely moved away when the kiss broke, too caught up in having him back to want to pull away completely. It was a shiver that brought you back to earth, one that came from you, and one that had Sandor frowning.

“You shouldn’t be out in the cold.” he said, tucking you in under his arm and pulling you away from the ledge and back toward the elevator, “You hate the cold. Makes me wonder why you were going to go out there in the first place.”

“It’s about the only place this side of the Narrow Sea that I thought wouldn’t remind me so much of you that I’d be sick.” The hand that rested on your shoulder squeezed knowingly. Your own hand reached out from under your cloak and took hold of his fingers. You doubted you wouldn’t be able to physically let go of him for a while.

“Guess that’s not a problem anymore.”

“Fuck no,” you scoffed, turning to him as he pushed open the elevator door for you, “I’m dragging you to Dorne after this so I can thaw out.”

“You don’t like the heat either.” His fingers stayed grasped on yours as he guided you through the door first. Somehow his large hand hadn’t been bitten by the cold yet, and his palm felt so warm against your frozen fingertips. His warmth made you smile, it was more proof that he was really standing before you.

“I don’t care,” you said, smiling up at him, “I won’t care as long as I’m with you.”

“Chicken?” Sandor asked. “You don’t like chicken.”

You looked across at him from where you sat in Castle Black’s dining hall. You were currently sucking a chicken bone clean of its cooked flesh, and you shrugged at his almost confused way of frowning at you. In the past it might have been true - you preferred more iron-rich meats, which often left the chicken all for Sandor - but not anymore. You’d even stolen some off his plate.

“I do now.” you said, licking at your fingers. “Your child has been having a powerful influence over me already. Unfortunately it’s one of the few things I can stomach right now.”

“Child?”

“You didn’t notice?” You sat back, pushing your cloak aside purposefully to reveal your stomach, showing it off a little - as if there was even anything to show yet. “I think I’ve even started getting bigger.”

“Big?” Sandor scoffed, sitting back in his seat but still eyeing you wearily, ”You’re pulling my dick if you think I’d notice. Everyone’s small to me, no matter how ‘big’ they think they are.”

“You’re so mean to me. The mother of your child -”

“For fucks sake.” he mumbled. His eyes rolled, and a hand came up to run over his face when you started talking again.

“- You ought to be nice to me, I’ve been mourning you a long time, and looking after your child all on my lonesome.”

“Excuse me. Liar!” Tormund stood abruptly behind you, causing you to jolt in your seat as his own scraped against the stone floor. “I’ve been keeping you fed! The Hound will have no choice but to like me for keeping his woman healthy for his return.” He spoke proudly, coming to your side and resting a hand on the table near your plate.

“Fuck off.” Both you and Sandor said. You weren’t happy about him coming near your food, and Sandor was just unhappy with Tormund around.

The contrast between how you growled it out and how his voice was more of a mumble made Tormund bark out a laugh. The switch in personalities was comical, even you could see it. It reminded you of a similar time, one where the stakes were more deadly than just losing food, but felt no less homely because you had Sandor by your side then just as you do now.

The look Tormund sent your way was knowing, almost loving in a way that was as inconspicuous as your hulking personality of a husband allowed. Nevertheless his hands raised in surrender, and he stepped away as he sent a wink toward Sandor.

With the Wildling gone, you turned back to Sandor. He was already looking at you. If anyone didn’t know him like you did they might’ve thought he was so deep in thought that he was looking right through you - but you knew better. He was looking right into you instead. Deep into your soul that he might as well have laid you bare and be picking you apart.

“You’re having a child?” he finally asked. So that’s what he was trying to figure out.

“I’m having your child.” You bowed your head, keeping eye contact, pointing to him with a bare bone as you switched to another as you spoke. He leaned forward, tilting his own head ever so slightly.

“You sure it’s mine?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Now was your turn to scoff, food forgotten, and you leant forward so your heads were even closer. So close you could almost whisper and still be heard. “The only person I’ve been with in the last five years is you.”

Sandor smiled then. An almost-full, genuine-looking smile. His next words were softly spoken, almost proud.

“So you’re gonna be a mother,” he said. It made you want to lean even closer and kiss him senseless.

“And you’re gonna be a father.” you replied. He reverted back to that deep stare, an almost dopey, soft look in his eyes now. It took a few quiet breaths before he talked again.

“We’re gonna be a family.”

“We already are.” Sandor had a small gentle smile, one you realised was reserved only for you. It made you all soft and gooey inside. You couldn’t help it, he was asking for it. You had to kiss him now.

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