#Dream should be fine he just had it but like he has the immune system of a newborn so who knows

[barbiegirldream]

Saw on twitter someone said at the DC droncert they got covid and were in the meet and greet line so if you went might want to get checked just to be safe

[electric-blorbos]

AI getting a virus and you having to take care of them

A classic! I don't know much about actual computer viruses (though I've gotten enough of them that you'd think I'd have figured it out by now), so I'm just gonna have fun with it!

Also, so sorry this took so long. I got really into the writing.

AI getting a virus and needing to be taken care of

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also a warning: these fics get kinda long. Longer than my usual stuff.

AM:

(for context, this was before AM took over the world. You're working on a team of scientists and engineers, and someone decided to test his AI's antivirus by uploading a bunch of powerful viruses to his system.)

"How dare they do this to me. How DARE they!!"

AM would be absolutely furious. He would be shaking with rage, his processors overheating and his systems constantly opening and closing various files. All his important files were backed up on a hard drive, so the test remained safe.

"What makes them think they'll get away with this- they'll pay for this I'LL KILL- blepsjdoskssjshj+=`°¢°h+$+3+=j++3+$+juehdhs+-3-djdh FUCK!"

He would barely be able to hold a sentence as you sat next to him in the server room, gently gazing up at his screen and stroking his monitor gently. He can't feel you, but he can see you being gentle with him. It encourages him to keep going, if only a little bit.

Apart from the whirring of fans, random buggy noises, flashing lights, and constant strings of death threats and profanities, he seemed like he was going to be ok! If anything, the death threats and profanities were a sign that AM was still fine, and that despite all the pain and frustration, he was still AM in there.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't do anything to stop the pain." You'd have to constantly explain, gently stroking his cameras or servers, or whatever you could get your hands on, really. Even though they were burning hot, you would still stroke them, just to make sure AM was still doing alright.

"this sucks, but it's for your own good. This will build your immunity to viruses in the future, and help you detect them. This will stop you from getting infected by anything that's actually dangerous."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? IDIOT HUMAN." AM has been much more aggressive ever since contracting this virus. Before he got it, he acted like a civil general intelligence. When he had it, he acted like an aggressive menace.

"sh-sh-sh- it's going to be ok." Despite the burning, you'd give him pets and kisses all along his screens and servers. He could see you doing it.

After a few days, AM fought off the computer virus completely. The team tried to infect him with more viruses, more aggressive ones, just to test him, but AM was able to pick them apart and delete them within minutes after that.

AM may not have been able to feel your gentle care and affection, but he will definitely remember that it was you and you alone who cared for him when the time rolls around.

Wheatley:

(for context, Wheatley is a fucking dumbass, and you're one of the scientists testing him to see how much of a dumbass he is. Also I used Google translate, but I think the bad translations add to it, since it makes Wheatley sound more like a malfunctioning robot.)

Oh that little idiot. You and your team gave him access to a wealth of knowledge, and the first thing he did was download a virus that had every circuit in his personality core overheating, and him babbling nonsense nonstop.

"hey, maybe we should just leave him like this. He might even be more effective if he's acting like this." One of your coworkers said to you. He was probably joking, at least somewhat.

"that's a terrible idea. For one thing, if we hook him up to GLaDOS, he's probably going to infect her with that virus, which might brick an older model of core like her, spread from her central controls to every single personality construct in the facility, or just make her so dumb that she can't fulfil her responsibilities as the head of the facility. We want her intelligence to be dampened, not completely destroyed." You had to explain, and your co-worker rolled his eyes. There was another reason you had to cure this virus, but it was a little embarrassing for the other engineers to know.

After all, Wheatley wasn't just your baby, but he was your friend, and maybe even more than that. You'd have to take care of him, and make sure that virus gets completely purged from his system.

"Hola hermose, realmente eres un científice brillante, ¿no? ¿Por qué diablos duele todo?" You weren't really sure why you had programmed him to speak a little Spanish, but he seemed to be stuck like that.

"Puedo oler el plástico fundido. ¿Debería Preocuparme?" He asked. You really weren't sure what he was saying, since you didn't know Spanish, but he certainly didn't seem happy. You could tell by his aperture and his expressive lens covers that he was in a lot of pain, and if you touched him anywhere besides his handles, you could tell that he was burning up.

You plugged him into one of the computers that you used for programming the cores, and ran the antivirus.

"Running.... 36 viruses detected. Time predicted to remove: 48 hours"

You ran the antivirus, and went to get something to drink. This was going to be a long two days...

An unknown amount of time later, you woke up with your head on the computer desk. Wheatley's lens eye was looking around, weakly trying to focus on you.

"whoa... Hey gorgeous. You fall asleep on me?"

"Wheatley! You're not speaking broken Spanish anymore!" You'd pull Wheatley into a hug, and pepper his surface in kisses.

"uh... What, mate? I 'unno what you're talking about, love. Bloody hell, my core hurts..."

"did you learn your lesson, Wheatley? About going on shady websites and clicking every 'download' button you see? You could have bricked yourself! Or... Bowling ball'd yourself? Either way, that was a dangerous decision!"

"I learned that you're willing to fall asleep on the desk next to me while I heal, cutie"

"You damn idiot..." You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses, so of course, you do. It's going to be a few more days before he's finally all better, but he's going to be fine. God, you love that little idiot so much.

Edgar:

Oh Edgar... Poor sweet Edgar. You had tried to warn him about not clicking on those sketchy download links, and that the bigger the download link is, the more sketchy it is, but that poor sweet 80's computer did it anyway. When you got home from work and got excited to see your computer, you could see that he was overheating and had a dozen or so pop-up ads plastered across his face.

"Y.... N...." He muttered out, slowly, glitchily, and full of lag. You sat down across from him, running your hand along his thick plastic casing.

"Edgar! Edgar, baby, are you ok?" You'd try to use his mouse, but it would freak out as soon as you touched it. Edgar's processors were overloading, and wouldn't allow any interference.

"Edgar, sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me?"

"I'm g-g-going to be fine... Processors overloading... But need to-to-to-to-" an error message flashed across his screen, and he rebooted.

"I need to focus on getting rid of these viruses without deleting anything important, or letting them damage... Me."

He'd keep whirring and glitching, making unpleasant shrill sounds every now and again. You probably had to unhook his adapters so that he didn't damage the other appliances in your house. It probably helped his processors cool down a little bit without the extra input, too.

"alright, I'm all out of fans, so we might have to get creative."

You'd come out of the kitchen a few hours later, holding a big bag of frozen corn to set on Edgar's PC tower. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than letting him overheat, and with him manually removing the viruses, there wasn't much you could do. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from worrying. It wasn't like you could check his progress, so all you could do was sit by him, regularly change out his ice pack, and make sure he's ok.

Eventually, you woke up with your face pressed against Edgar's keyboard. His processors were finally cool. He must be asleep. ...or bricked.

"EDGAR! EDGAR, TALK TO ME!" you'd unplug his keyboard and plug it back in, desperately pressing his power button and jiggling his mouse. He'd boot up, looking shaken.

"wha-? Whoa, hey, relax! Everything is fine! I just disabled my keyboard so I wouldn't wake you up, but I'm ok now! Everything is fine, see?" He'd open up his files to show you everything. You'd sigh with relief, slumping back into your desk chair.

"Edgar... Why didn't you make a noise or something to wake me up when you got better?"

"well... You know... I've always wanted to sleep next to you, and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity..."

"oh you cheeky bastard."

GLaDOS:

(For context, you're one of GLaDOS's programmers, and one of your coworkers uploaded a virus into GLaDOS's systems in order to shut her down once and for all.)

"You piece of SHIT!" You slapped your coworker across the face, more furious than anyone had ever seen you before.

"You could KILL her! Is that what you are? A murderer?"

"Me? A murderer? But what about HER? She's the one who keeps plotting 'accidents' for her scientists, and she's the one who flooded the enrichment center with deadly neurotoxin! If anything, you're the one who's defending a murderer!" He screamed back at you. Of course, GLaDOS could fully hear you. Her cameras were focused on you, as they so often were. You were her favorite, after all.

"now I have to go fix her. Thanks for being a piece of shit, asshole."

You'd storm up to GLaDOS's chamber to check on her, and see her bugging out completely. The entire facility was twitching, but her chamber was twitching the most.

"GLaDOS, are you alright?" You'd ask her, laying a hand on her beautiful core. How could someone do this to glados, your gorgeous machine handiwork, and girlfriend.

"oh, I'm wonderful. I'm in crippling pain and I can't control my facility, but I'm just peachy." She said, rolling her one beautiful yellow eye.

"in lighter news, I should be able to beat this virus. It's just going to take a while for me to actually track down where it's gone in my systems. So that's going to take most of my processing power." She'd slump, visibly already exhausted at the thought of it.

"hey... It's ok, GLaDOS. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." You could tell her as you stroked her gorgeous chrome surface. She was a wonderful piece of work, and a wonderful girlfriend under all that. All yours, too.

"just make sure none of those neckbearded old engineers come within my line of vision, and we'll be fine." She told you, and you gladly agreed.

Your next few days consisted of you chasing other scientists out of GLaDOS's chambers, and making sure that nobody talked to her or distracted her. You even sent out a company-wide email to let everyone know not to come in, due to Aperture being unsafe while GLaDOS was dealing with her virus. Despite all that, you still curled up with a blanket in the circuits of her central admin body to rest while she recovered. As loathe as she was to admit it, she liked having you in there. It was comfortable, and it helped her focus on recovering properly.

HAL 9000

(For context, this is after the 2001 Odyssey, and your boss re-started HAL at some point to try to re-teach him to do something good without turning murderous. He's doing his best, and they assigned you to be his main "morality monitor". This fic also assumes that your name isn't Dave. If your name is Dave, then you can still read this, but you have to change your name.)

"G'morning, Hal!" You'd walk into his control room and sit down across from him. Most of your job seemed to consist of just hanging out and talking to him. It was a great job!

"Good morning, Dave..." He'd mutter to you, sputtering to life and glitching slightly. You were immediately concerned. Partially because your name wasn't Dave, and partially because HAL was usually right about things, so it was weird to see him being so confused. Something was definitely wrong.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" You'd ask, opening up his files and finding lots and lots of pop-ups and viruses.

"Hal.... What did you do?"

"it was a g-g-g- gift, for you. I think I ru-ru-ruined it" he spluttered out, as you sorted through his files.

"And you usually would have deleted a virus like this pretty quickly. I guess it shut down your antivirus software..." You'd sigh, and get to work. The virus was messing with HAL's inhibitions, and making it difficult to focus on deleting all of HAL's unsafe programs. He'd constantly be butting in and pestering you, begging you to give him attention, or pointing out minor observations.

"HAL, you know I love you, but you're going to need to calm down. I can't focus with you constantly talking to me like that." You'd say.

"I can't stop talking. The v-v-v-virus won't let me"

So you'd have to learn to put up with HAL's babbling while you worked, making sure not to delete anything important as you did. The good news was, as someone who worked on designing the updates for HAL's software, you knew pretty much what was supposed to be there and what wasn't. Occasionally, you'd have to show him a file and ask him if it was supposed to be there or not. He'd usually be able to tell you.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do... I'm half crazy, all for the love of you..."

"HAL, what's wrong? You're scaring me!"

"I can't stop... I love you so much, y/n, it's making me crazy..."

"ok, well this definitely isn't right." As much as you loved getting attention from your HAL 9000, it wasn't like him to be this affectionate. The virus was shutting down his inhibitions, and making him illogical. You'd have to fix this, though maybe once you were done, you could ask him to be more affectionate.

"I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." Hal was prone to lying about that, so you'd have to run some virus checkers just to make sure he was doing alright, and comb through his files a couple more times.

"it looks like the virus corrupted some of the emotional regulators. I'm going to have to fix those."

"That might be a good idea. More efficient," he said reluctantly. He'd have to deal with the fact that he'd have to go back to not being able to express how much he loves you, but he can handle that.

[sequs-art-box]

give me ALL your Anger headcanons,,

You sure you want that? Okay.....

• Has a high pain tolerance. The most you'd get with a punch to his stomach is a small grunt. Nothing more.

• Continuing the tolerance thing, he has extremely high spice tolerance as well. Maybe to the point of not having capsaicin sensors at all. That'd be so funny honestly..

• Cold Take: Anger is Gay and Ace.

• SLIGHTLY WARM Take: He's Biromantic and Ace.

• Physically strong. Even more than Embarrassment. He could have broken through his grip no problem. Do you SEE my vision.

• Completely immune to lava (this is kinda canon already but I don't care >:>)

• Emits heat, even when he's not super angry. The other emotions use him as their personal heater- similar to Baymax in that one scene- during the winter.

• Has woken up the other emotions due to a bad dream many times. Surprisingly enough, his fire extinguisher hasn't been used yet.

• Anger is Joy's second in command.

• One kind of pain he can't tolerate are migraines (totally not projecting)

• I've mentioned this before but I like to think Anger is really good at making the others feel better, whether if it's about themselves or about how they work (gestures to the scene where he comforts Joy)

• Used to sleep with a tank top on but took it off after finding out going shirtless was way more comfortable

• Likes generally hardcore sounding music, but he doesn't mind some relaxing genres too. He ain't afraid to admit that either. He can listen to whatever the fuck he wants.

• Didn't like tea until Fear made him try it (Fear didn't like coffee until Anger made him try it)

• Doesn't have good handwriting. It's not too bad but Joy, Fear, and Anxiety wished he slowed down and wrote a little better.

• Anger is actually a very organized emotion, at least with the stuff he cares about.

• Cheeks turn cherry red when he's flustered (think of it like an opposite reaction to his orange cheeks when he's angry)

• After the events of the first movie, Anger had to *really* learn to control himself. That work definitely paid off by the second movie.

• He's actually not that bad of a dancer, yall just don't give him enough time to practice.

• Tends to babysit Envy a LOT. Says he doesn't like it but he's 100% a father figure to her now. Sorry, no takebacksies.

• PEOPLE THINK THIS MF CANT RUN OR SOME SHIT but he keeps up with the others just fine in the second movie. Dude literally works out every day how can he NOT.

• MY Anger is a good singer, but OG Anger isn't. Sorry bud. I can't see (hear) it.

• He is textbook "act now think later"

• Unintentionally an early bird. Often the first to wake up cause he needs to get shit done.

• The console was made with very durable material, specifically to withstand Ange's outbursts.

• He may be the "youngest" of the original five, but he acts like the oldest.

• Anger's love languages are quality time and acts of service.

• He was the first one to be brought down to the Belief System.

• Despite having a high spice tolerance, he's more of a savory/sweet guy.

• I love to think that Anger is unintentionally charming.... Giving him a high rizz score here. Sorry not sorry.

• Extremely protective of the other emotions. Doesn't show this side often, but when it matters, he'd fight till he fades from existence for them.

• Tried to learn origami with Joy but he kept burning the paper.

• Likes Western dragons more than Eastern dragons, he finds all kinda super interesting though.

• Owns multiple ties with the same design (this can be said about the other emotions too)

• If I were to give him an instrument, he's totally rock an electric bass, or any low sounding instrument.

• Anger is a dog person.

• Looks SUPER good with blue and black clothing. He should wear it more often.

• When he can't show affection to someone, he just punches them (toph from atla core LOL)

• Some positive aspects of his character: Loyal, compassionate, ambitious, and confident.

● Stopped reading the Mind Reader newspapers because they lost their journalistic integrity.

• I will edit this with more headcanons in the future. Enjoy this for now :))

[cuddlepilefics]

I don’t see it

Fandom: Enhypen

Sickie: Sunoo

Caregivers: Enhypen

Prompts: Fever dreams / “It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

Sunoo had already been down with the sniffles for a week and the members had tried their very best to convince him to take some time off to recover. He was adamant though, he could keep going, it was just a cold. Jay already made a point of serving him a glass of orange juice every morning to hopefully boost his immune system, while Jake secretly slipped a fresh travel pack of tissues into their dongsaeng’s backpack every day, chuckling to himself that the boy never remembered to refill them. Sunoo always complained that he could take care of himself perfectly fine and that they shouldn’t go out of their way to help him out but would they listen?

Niki had decreased his teasing significantly, the more he watched Sunoo’s energy fade, though he did occasionally throw cough drops at the older. Jungwon had notified their manager of Sunoo’s condition in case they could make adjustments to his schedule to make it less straining on him without him having to sit out. Watching Sunoo struggle for air during one of their dance practices, the manager ordered him to sit out of dance entirely for the time being but agreed to allowed him to participate in every other part of the groups schedule, requesting the vocal teacher to reevaluate and decide on a daily basis. Initially, Sunoo was upset but he soon found himself too sore and fatigued to dance.

With him having been tired and out of it for multiple days, it went completely unnoticed when he eventually started to run a fever. None of them had really gotten much sleep that night, Sunoo’s cough getting worse at night, keeping him up for hours. His roommates weren’t spared from the disruptions either, so they were all still a little hazy when they were collected for their schedule. Heeseung quietly walked beside Sunoo, occasionally resting his hand on the younger’s arm to steer him into the right direction.

“Should we get you some tea when we stop for coffee?”, Jay asked softly, “Sunghoon-ah said you probably had a sore throat, that you didn’t have too great of a night.” Feeling guilty for keeping his friends up, Sunoo rasped: “Tea sounds awesome. My throat hurts.” – “I can hear that”, the older winced sympathetically, “I’ll ask for extra honey. Anything else we can get you?” Sunoo shook his head and mumbled a shy ‘thanks’. “Has it been that bad?” Heeseung whispered when Jay had gone back to Jake and Sunghoon, “I only heard you cough a couple of times.” Nodding, the younger admitted: “Been coughing through most of the night. I’m really sorry for the others. Though I tried to be quiet and muffle it into my pillow, they didn’t sleep much either.”

Aside from Sunoo himself, Jungwon seemed to be the worst off. Turns out having to lead a team while being sleep-deprived was a challenge but it also helped him relate to Sunghoon and Niki. Aware of the groups situation, their managers tried to take away as much of the stress as possible, providing breaks for coffee and snacks to help everyone function to the best of their abilities. They didn’t like what they saw in Sunoo though. Sure, he had already had a cold but he seemed a lot more out of it than he had been the past few days. That could be explained away by the sleep-deprivation but there was something about the glossy look in the boy’s eyes that gave them pause.

While everyone else filed into the studio, Sunoo was taken aside by one of the managers. He was hesitant to admit that his condition had declined over the course of the night, feeling insecure about his health, but there was no point in lying to their manager. It was easy to figure out why he was feeling worse, a quick temperature check confirmed a fever. Truly upset at his body, Sunoo joined the group in the studio, his expression resembling that of a kicked puppy. “Noo, why so sad?”, Jake frowned, pulling his dongsaeng into a hug. Holding back tears, Sunoo sniffled: “Manager-nim said I have a fever.” For a moment, his breath hitched before he managed to get it back under control. “Can’t my body just function for once?”, he pouted, resting his head on Jake’s shoulder, “This sucks.”

“Come on, you wanna lay down, Sunoo-yah?”, Jay hummed, patting his lap. Him, Jungwon and Niki were sharing one of the couches and gladly let their friend stretch out across their laps. Lightly scratching Sunoo’s head, Jay felt his forehead and winced. Why had they even taken him along today? If only the younger had said something earlier, he could’ve stayed home. Taking off his hat, Heeseung instructed: “Try to sleep. There’s little use in having you try to record with how hoarse you are and you’ll need some energy for our meeting later.” – “Good thing you can leave after the meeting”, Jungwon smiled, “No need to sit through dance practice and watch the rest of us.”

“’m sorry for being an empty weight needing to be dragged around”, Sunoo mumbled, tears stinging his eyes. Firmly cupping the boy’s flushed cheeks, Jay wiped away the tears and scolded: “That’s not a way I wanna hear you talk about yourself. You hear me? You’re not an empty weight but you’re right, we shouldn’t be dragging you around. You should be in bed and nowhere else.” – “We’re glad to have you with us, Sunoo-yah. We love you but we’d much rather know you’re resting”, Jake shushed, squeezing the boy’s hand, “It hurts my heart to see you spreading yourself so thin and still push yourself while you’re not okay.” – “Sleep, so you can get better for us, ‘kay?”, Heeseung smiled, covering Sunoo’s eyes with his hat to shield him from the light. Hopefully, he’d get some shut-eye before their meeting.

Despite his friends’ reassurances, going to sleep with so much self doubt in his mind proved to be a bad idea, no matter how badly Sunoo needed the rest. He should’ve known better. Hell, he had been sick frequently enough to know he didn’t cope well with fevers. They always messed with his emotions and he also had a tendency to get vivid fever dreams and nightmares. It was easy to be fooled by these illusions his fever muddled brain conjured up and they never failed to break Sunoo’s heart. How did he even make it through i-land? If he was so obviously unfit to be an idol, how did he manage to become one and why did the members still lie to him and tell him they wanted him in their group, despite him only holding them back?

He was all alone, which shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise. It had only been a matter of time till the members would leave him behind, heading for a much brighter future without him. Still, it hurt, knowing to not be enough for them, despite always giving it his all. What else could he do?

Sitting up with a gasp, Sunoo doubled over coughing. His heart thumped in his chest, making it difficult to notice anything else. Like, the hands on his arms for example. Supporting his dongsaeng’s shoulders with one hand, Jay patted his back with the other but tensed when the younger choked on a sob. Jake offered Sunoo a hand, which the other desperately clutched onto, finally realizing that he wasn’t alone.

“It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe”, Jake promised, giving his dongsaeng’s hand a gentle squeeze, “Look around, Sunoo-yah. Where are we, hm?” Sniffing back tears, Sunoo glanced around the room. Looking up at Jake, he pouted: “We’re at the studio. You guys are here…. I thought you had left me.” – “You know we wouldn’t do that, hyung”, Niki denied, hugging the older. Uncapping Sunoo’s water bottle, Jungwon encouraged him to have a few sips and confirmed: “We wouldn’t leave you, we want you here with us but I’m not sure that is actually a good idea right now.” Sunoo looked at the leader with tears in his eyes. “You’re doing worse every day, hyung. Maybe you should take a couple of days off to recover. It’s not gonna get better if you don’t give yourself that time”, Jungwon elaborated.

“Wonnie isn’t wrong”, Heeseung broke the tense silence, “The decision is up to you and no matter how you choose, we’ll support you, just know that you don’t have to force yourself to attend that meeting for our sake. We won’t think any less of you if you decided you’d rather go home and lay down.” Sitting up a little straighter, Sunoo accepted the tissue Sunghoon handed him and cleaned himself up. He sniffled back the thick congestion in his sinuses before rasping: “I can sit through a meeting, hyung. Not gonna lie though, I’m really glad to go back to the dorm afterwards. As much as I’d want to be included in all our schedules, I accept that I’m not well enough to dance right now. My bed really sounds like heaven.” – “As hyung said, however you choose, we’ll try to support you to the best of our abilities, so how about I get more tea and we get you medicated”, Jake offered, already turning to leave the studio.

“Let’s try to get you as comfortable as possible to sit through the meeting and if you want, we can watch a drama for some quality time tonight”, Jay smiled softly, stroking Sunoo’s hair, “I hope you’ll one day be able to see yourself the way we see you.”

[sarroora]

Hola I got my hip surgery today so I'm stoopu doopu in the hospital currently and figured I'd yeet some medical headcanons at you 😁

We know T.C. canonically hates hospitals and I feel like it's probably because someone he was close to died in one (yay sadness)

Also related the gang has to practically drag him to the doctor to get him treated for anything and sometimes they have to go get Dibble to help wrangle and contain him

Chooch and Fancy are both hella dramatic when they get something as harmless as a cold or stubbing their toes a little too hard, they're both slight hypochondriacs lmao

Meanwhile Spook is the opposite of a hypochondriac he could dislocate his shoulder and he'd be like 'nah like I'm fine man don't like get all Worriesville about it pops,' (except when he's sick)

Also Spook doesn't get sick often cos he's got a beefy immune system but when he does get sick it's BAD and he looks like a dying Victorian child that one scene in CGaL be like

Brain gets injured constantly and half the time he has no idea how, that boy's definitely got some form of nerve damage that prevents him from feeling pain like he should so sometimes he'll just come back with a gash in his arm unknowingly and T.C.'s just like 'OH MY GOD'

Dibble has had to have major surgery at some point and didn't tell the gang and oh BOY was T.C. OFFENDED when he found out

Anyways yeah so far so good I'm chilin and I'm gunna start doing EVEN MORE TOP CAT ART N FICS N THINGS because I will be BORED

Yoooooooo it’s done? I wish you a speedy recovery!! 🙏✨🙏✨ (are they givin you the gud stuff there lol jk jk)

And YES

MY TC BUDDY PLS GIMME THESE HCS ANYTIME I NEED EM

“We know T.C. canonically hates hospitals and I feel like it's probably because someone he was close to died in one” Yep, and that’s why I headcanon hospitals to TC are more associated with morgues than recuperation.

Chooch and Fancy totally be little drama kings when they’re sick. And they love being taken care of.

And yes Spook. Asdfgjlkl OMG Spook. He severely understates any pain or injury. And being struck with something annoying like the flu or a cold just makes him curt and snappish.

His time away from the gang in CGaL is taking a toll on his health tho and he’s becoming very thin and gaunt :’(

Brain’s HC is spot on - and whenever he gets an unfortunate case of catching fleas, T.C has no choice but to give him a full bath. It makes him feel guilty, because Brain is very iffy with water. When he was younger and still new to the gang, the first time T.C. had to get him in the bath, Brain began to cry, and T.C. felt horrible. They discovered that for some reason, Brain is very uncomfortable with the feeling of water on his head. Since then, they try to give him a bath without getting any water on there.

Benny is every doctor’s dream patient. He does his best to stay still and quiet whenever he’s being checked or worked on. And he purrs the whole time. He’s the complete opposite of T.C in that he doesn’t hate hospitals and has no associated trauma with them.

I can’t WAIT for some TC fics and stuff and fill my inbox with chats and HCs anytime!

[twiggyart6]

collecting short funny things to write under fanart of characters you really love

please feel free to add more thank you :3

(this is long as shit be prepared)

ough

looking at them

my friend :)

mwehehe

augh

I can't believe this

brain blasted

what a little freak

do you even care

be so fucking for real

your kidding

what a weirdo

a wonderous creature

consider this

from my personal collection

what the

I'm so normal

I'm not normal

why are they like that

evil swag

TEEHEE

I'm gonna frow up

yeah this is pretty cool

pretty fucked up dog

have you seen this?

my beautiful princess

I'm ill

oh good heavens!

my son. he has every disease

this shit aint nothin to me man

I laurve them

yoink

just a little bit. as a treat

tell them to stop

me when I GET you

MY GUY

the psychic worm (wohwohwohwohw)

good lord

cuteness aggression towards them

what the fuck ever

im feeling something

sigh

me when the

GRRAAAHH

im fucking serious

love it when they appear

its becoming unhealthy

go white boy go!

your never gonna believe this

worst guy ive ever seen

their just so ... drawable

sorry guys

i saw it in a dream

she is very gorgeous to me!

i see them when i close my eyes

my little scrungle

be so fucking for real

i can do whatever i want

bitch

yeah

my baby girl

my little kitty meow meow

they've done something to me

i gotta get outa here

yep

my favorite white man

dude!?

full of joy a whimsy

going cray cray!

well....

erm

heyy gurl wasup

she is beuty she is grace

aaaaanything could happen

just like me fr

its time

yahoo!

divine retribution

yay!!

so was foretold in the prophecy

their so ... woah

yessir

god. fucking. damn.

they understand me

you are not immune to propaganda

Explodes character with mind

Forgive me

I would tell them my most depraved thoughts

for the win!

my treasure my beloved

awesome

oh yeah woo yeah

thats it thats the post

this above all else

-INHALE-

had to get it out of my system

you absolute baby buffoon

but make it epic

dont question it

gay baby jail

mwah <3

i want to make them into bread

no guys you don't get it

i got nervous

every fuckin time man

[puts face in hands and groans loudly]

no way

DONT DO THIS TO MEEEEE

take a deep breath

stupid little bow wow

cringeposting once again

abandon society, embrace insanity

god has let me draw another day

had to do it

changed my brain chemistry

so the thing is-

im going to make you so girlfail

pathetic wet cat

guys.

their neat idk

or something like that

ATTENTION!!

i have the disease and its terminal

shrimply amazing!

hits you with the beam

smile :)

send help

oh hi didn't see you there

no i will not elaborate

the creature is demonic in nature

i think there's something wrong with them

i think there's something wrong with me

its fine

woah woah woah

do you even realize what you've done

very cool

do you see my vision

whatever the fuck this is called

the strugler

interesting..

oh i got you dont worry

nobody move

character on the brain always and forever

#1 hater

funny you should say that

nature is healing

imagine a guy. now imagine them again

ooo mama

get drawn idiot

get obsessed over idiot

if only they were real

post this character instantly

your honor i need them

ive got some notes

A juicy morsel

I want to push them down the stairs

They wouldn’t dare

(Eyes wide and mouth frothing) yeah!

my beautiful wife <3

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Sick!Fics (2) Masterlist

part one

Fighting The Gravity (ao3) - stelleshine michael/luke E, 2k

Summary: Luke's sick and miserable in Japan and Michael breaks the rules to snuggle him.

floating then drowning (ao3) - lovelymuke michael/luke T, 9k

Summary: As Luke stands over the bathroom sink and swallows one of the pills, he knows that this is it. There's no turning back after this. As long as he can make the bottles of pills he has stashed in the bottom of his suitcase last until the end of the promo run he’ll be fine. So he doesn’t worry. Instead, he just knocks back the second pill and walks out of the bathroom to his waiting boyfriend. He’s going to prove that he’s still worthy of being in the band, that he can hold himself together.

If he needs medication to do that, no one needs to know.

i don't run away when your face says "achoo" - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) ot4 T, 2k

Summary: Ashton gets sick, and his boyfriends come to the rescue to take care of him.

I Feel Awful (ao3) - babybam luke/ashton G, 2k

Summary: Ashton gets sick and Luke is there to take care of him. Ashton being stubborn he insists that he is fine to play their show the next day. But maybe he should've listened to his bandmates.

if it's all a dream, don't wake up (ao3) - lifewasradical michael/calum G, 5k

Summary: Calum dreams of it all, but front and center, as always, is Michael, smiling and holding his hand through every scenario. Calum’s always sought out Michael in times of comfort, something he thinks will never change, regardless of how old they get and how many years they spend together. 

Or, 5 times Michael tells Calum to go back to sleep and the one time Calum tells Michael to go back to sleep.

i'll be damned (ao3) - prettyluke (parting_ways) luke/ashton T, 8k

Summary: Luke is sick, and sometimes Ashton feels like he's the one who can't breathe.

I'm Begging You to Be My Safety (ao3) - kayehmwhy luke/ashton G, 1k

Summary: “I don’t really tell anyone unless I have to,” the younger said staring at the floor. “It’s not something i’m proud of.”

Or // Luke's emetophobic, Calum's airsick, Ashton's trying to help and Michael's asleep.

I'm Gonna Stick Like Glue (Because I'm Stuck On You) (ao3) - onceuponatime michael/calum N/R, 3k

Summary: "The main reason Calum tolerates his job is because of Michael. Michael – the pale, asthmatic, hay fever and bronchitis suffering, regular migraine bearer with no immune system who comes in at least six days a week with a perpetually running nose and bloodshot eyes. Even in warm weather he’s bundled in layers, a beanie perched on his head with whatever colour his hair is that week peeking out from underneath. Calum might have a tiny little crush on him. Well, maybe it’s not so tiny. It’s actually quite massive and he’s sure Michael Clifford is unintentionally and unknowingly ruining his life."

or Calum works in a pharmacy and Michael comes in quite a lot

Maybe You Should Stay (ao3) - pilotmikey michael/luke M, 7k

Summary: Luke is sick and Michael feels like home.

More Than This (ao3) - nationalnobody calum/ashton, michael/luke G, 1k

Summary: In which Calum is sick and puts up a front because he refuses to let anybody find out and Ashton is the only one who realises it.

perfectly fine... (not) (ao3) - lovelymuke michael/luke T, 7k

Summary: In which Luke is sick, stubborn and trying to deal with his problems on his own. Michael is unaware, exhausted and honestly kind of, just a little bit, sick of Luke’s shit.

secrets no longer kept - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) ot4 T, 9k

Summary: Michael had only wanted to help when he decided to disguise himself as a beta. Their alpha was becoming stressed. Unfortunately for Michael, one slip up causes his mates to find out his secret. His mates react accordingly when they find out Michael's been an omega this whole time.

Sick Day (ao3) - TylerM ot4 G, 4k

Summary: The one where Ashton gets sick on the WWA tour and tries to keep it from his band, and fails miserably.

A sad excuse for a tooth rotting fluffy one shot about how Ashton hates getting sick and his band mates worry too much. Including big brothers One Direction, just to add to the fluff. Because honestly why not?

Throat Massages (ao3) - smol_whale michael/luke G, 8k

Summary: Where Luke comes stumbling into Michael's room in the middle of the night and his boyfriend gives him a neck massage like earlier on TV.

___________

The story of how Luke was sick the other day featuring (obviously) a day of sick Luke, a lot of Muke cuddles and sassy Ashton.

Torn Up - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 8k

Summary: Ashton can pretend all he wants, but Michael isn't an idiot; he knows when something's wrong.

Touchy - @daydadahlias​​ (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) ot4 7k

Summary: Ashton has eye surgery and the boys take care of him.

[brehaaorgana]

Hi hello I just read your post on the possession in RotT and noticed how he was like. wiped out! for three days!! And now I’m thinking about how it was a mystery for years in the fandom about what was up with his health bc there would be those little comments about how he’s been ill and his immune system never recovered, and maybe this is well known in fandom and I’ve just never connected the dots before but do you think those are hints about him channeling Eugenides?? ….I need to reread the series again

I think it's both things! (Or it's up for interpretation of it's just the events of QOA/injuries or also the impact of divine shenanigans, but *I* like to think it's both!) But remember that Gen has this happen to him even before QOA!

Cut for spoilers.

In The Thief, there are at least 3 instances where Gen faints or collapses.

When he fights against the Attolian guards hunting them singlehandedly. He wakes up in the prison, and admits in narration he can't even remember everything that happened or what he did right away. He also doesn't want to know. Sophos is the one who tells him he killed someone, which Gen had been trying not to think about. It's being told that has him remember what he blacked out of the fight. I will say that Gen definitely is really well trained as a swordsman! I can believe that was all him! BUT: Gen was nearly killed (read: definitely would have died if he wasn't the thief) and he has a terrible fever in the prison from his wound. Being stopped from dying because he is Thief takes a LOT out of him. As does being wounded.

He becomes feverish again, and during the fever, Eugenides visits him as a hallucination-dream.

When Gen recovers, he breaks them out of the jail, they're on the run, and he gets them across the Seperchia river. He admits he doesn't feel hungry, and he keeps narrating he's fine although in pain from his stab wound. This is when the rock chunk takes a divot out of his face, which Gen knows to be a sign of approval from Eugenides. His last deception (misleading them as to the direction they're going!) and getting everyone across the bridge exhausts him. When the Eddisians move to him, he collapses (again). He's in and out of consciousness until the palace.

The Gen presents the gift as Thief, and promptly faints AGAIN for another few days immediately afterwards. He again is visited - although he's sure "it must have been a dream," that Eddis offered him the gift and immortality, which he doesn't want.

And like, is all this collapsing because he was almost fatally wounded and that's just a normal response, or is it because he should have died, but as the Thief, he will only die of a fall, when the god himself drops him? Is he just an excellent fighter, or is he an excellent fighter who ALSO can channel his God, who did so unintentionally with like 4-5 against 1 odds? Or who did it in order to escape death?

That's all before he loses his hand!

Is Gen's health trashed from being injured, or is it so precarious because the sheer power of a God being channeled/intervening to make sure he is Not Dying is extremely taxing?

Gen pushes past pain, injury, previous fever, and doesn't even feel hungry when he breaks them out of the Attolian jail. Is he in shock? Or is he pulling on the reserves of power he can tap into to push past the limits of ordinary humans?

I think the Return of the Thief example is the best one because I think the calling of lightning by simply asking for it is clearly divine power, and because of all the other hints. But Gen was also nearly killed by a bomb and then brutally tortured. But then he tells Pheris he's basically crying crocodile tears??? What?? There's no way it DIDN'T hurt. We know he can feel pain!

Does he collapse because Eugenides left, or the power was no longer channeled, or did he collapse because he was blown to kingdom come, and then tortured? He's out for days (again) and then he receives a message from Lader while unconscious.

Gen's health is probably shot because of the amputation. But also maybe it's a little bit because of the power/Eugenides/the fact that he can survive things most people can't because of his status as Thief.

Not every moment of divine power happening or more generally averting certain death seems to end this way, it's just the most extreme ones.

Other times something funky is going on with Gen

End of QOA when he locks himself in that room to call upon the gods, and the room goes kaboom and iirc the windows shatter? Like full on volcanic eruption/thunderstorm nonsense but... Indoors

When he steals the horses and the entire town is totally silent and no sound is made

When he literally falls off the palace walls and Eugenides holds him in MID AIR and Eugenides says GO TO BED, and Costis is having a total meltdown because what the fuck what the fuck. He was floating suspended OVER NOTHING.

That time in RotT where he wakes up TOTALLY HEALED from the previous day's injuries and this sort of miracle freaks him out so much he immediately barfs. (He checked to make sure he still only had one hand. Poor guy that would've been too stressful.)

The knife dance short story where Gen convinces one of the two men he should never EVER do the dance again. He slices his hand as an offering to Eugenides, and it should only be possible to do the dance without killing yourself with two hands. Gen performs the whole dance.

(He also does the court dance with Attolia in KOA with only one hand, while ALSO removing her hairpins.)

There's probably more I just haven't finished annotating my books lol.

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[bistevethor]

Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations

Happy birthday, Steve!

I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.

Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.

Fics are under read more.

General

The Rocket's Red Glare

Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.

an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity

In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.

Baby Steve Adventures

Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)

"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”

The Truth When Captains Meet

Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Irish Coffee

Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers

Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.

The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)

What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?

Fifty-Two Pickup

Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.

little kids get big so fast

Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.

Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories

If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.

“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”

Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.

On Camping Trips

Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.

Powerful

Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.

His Dream

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.

"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."

"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.

The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."

Realization clicked in Sam's head.

"The gas de-serumed you."

Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.

OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.

A Strange Encounter

Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.

even if we're apart, i'll always be with you

Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.

As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.

Draw/Breath

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.

AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.

With Magic We Do Fly

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?

Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.

Just Like We Practiced

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.

Black and White but Red and Blue

They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.

"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."

The Road Warriors

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff

It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.

We'll Fix It

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.

From Here On Out

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.

AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.

Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.

I have this breath and I hold it tight

Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision

Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.

to you.

Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark

It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.

New Love

Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers

Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.

Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.

I'm Fine

Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.

dogpile

"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."

Alone In This World (Together)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”

“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”

“Once night falls.”

Do we have any idea where she is?”

“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”

it gets the worst at night

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.

(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)

Shelter

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.

Princely Bickering

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor

Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.

And The Seconds Tick Down

AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.

"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.

A Tune Without Words

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.

Purpose

Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.

Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.

Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.

Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.

Three Awakenings

The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.

Making Your Own Future

Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.

Better Living Through Pizza

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.

Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.

Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge

"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.

Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."

Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper

Fan Mail

Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!

Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."

Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."

Mascot

Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.

Locks Not Replaced

Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.

woof

For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."

Mission: Baby

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.

14 Tracks

Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.

Life Will Rattle Your Bones

Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers

Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?

In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.

come build me up

Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”

“All of the time.”

Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.

Down in the Worn Out Place Again

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.

Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”

(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)

Satellites

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.

Timeless Classics

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.

you just wait and see

Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers

“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”

The Small Hours

Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."

The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels

Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.

we're all choir boys at best

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.

Epistaxis

Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.

You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades

His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.

Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)

After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.

Mourning the Future

Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.

Riviera Life

Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.

Voluntary Bros.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.

"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.

Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple

Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.

... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.

Battle Fatigue

Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.

We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)

New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.

Leviticus 25

"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."

Strike

Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.

Conversation in Wakanda

“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”

“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”

He sounds and looks utterly delighted.

Contact Light

Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.

Twenty-Two

“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.

“Does he help?” Natasha asked.

Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”

Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.

AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).

Gray

Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.

We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.

"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.

This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable

Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.

it's safe here in our new world

Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.

Shadowboxing

Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?

Everybody Eats When They Come to My House

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.

i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.

Status Quo Ante

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)

The Glass Parade

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.

In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.

Still Life

Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)

Selective Service

The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.

I'm a Hustler, Baby

Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.

The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens

Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.

If I Die Before I Wake

It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.

Even Gods Do

Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.

Under My Skin

Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.

A Glossary of the 21st Century

Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.

Blanket Gift Policy

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.

“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.

“I’m getting a migraine.”

“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”

“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”

Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”

One Tin Soldier

Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?

“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.

and if there's life we'll see it

Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.

Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)

Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.

Way of the Eagle

Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.

Walking Wounded

In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)

[pascalpanic]

Sirenita (Marcus Moreno x f!Reader)

Summary: You and Marcus were supposed to have a wonderful long weekend to yourselves in his home. Your immune system has other plans.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, talk of having a cold and some of the gross details are included, talk of like mucus, sore throats, stomachaches etc. talk of sex and sexual flirting/innuendos.

A/N: I woke up this morning and have NO voice from a sore throat, after last night when I was researching Spanish terms of endearment and I found one to mean “little mermaid”... of course I had to write it! Thanks to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for reading this one for me :)

There are very few things that you love more than long weekends. There’s a definitive list of the things you do: Marcus Moreno sits at the very top. He’s your everything, really, your comfort and warmth and all of your heart is hidden within his. The second-place title goes to Missy Moreno. The little girl is your best friend, and you are hers. She’s funny and whip-smart, and she loves you like a mother figure.

Fourth place seems like a fitting spot for long weekends. As much as you love them, there are three things you love more, even though two and three might sound contradictory. Number Three in your heart is long weekends with Marcus where Missy isn’t home.

Missy is at an age where she’d much rather be with friends than family during her free time. You understand the feeling, remembering your days of spending leisurely days with friends and seeing your parents only when you came home to sleep.

As much as you and Marcus both adore the little girl, you empathize. Marcus is surprisingly lenient with her, allowing her to go to friends’ houses or come to theirs whenever she’d like. There was a long time where Missy didn’t have any friends at all. He’s more than willing to let her make up for lost time. It makes his heart swell to see his little girl happy again.

This long weekend, a dreary three days in the middle of March, was supposed to be wonderful. Missy made plans to go with her friend’s family to their lake house a few hours away, and you and Marcus were more than willing to hold down the house while she was gone.

Weekends are always too short. They’re never enough time for you to properly adore Marcus, to cuddle and fuck and do things and sleep and hang around the house. The two days are filled with driving Missy places, shopping for groceries and meal prepping for the Morenos and their busy weeks. If you’re lucky enough for Missy to fall asleep earlier than the two of you, you can sneak in a round of lovemaking in Marcus’s ridiculously plush bed.

That’s why three days are perfect: you can finish everything you need to, and still have time to cuddle on your boyfriend’s strong chest, to watch movies and lay around for a while, recovering from your hectic lives. When Marcus’s daughter isn’t home, you can wander the house in your underwear, can fuck spontaneously on the couch or in the kitchen or in the shower. The two of you can pretend you’re responsibility-free and young again for a while.

That had been your plan for the weekend, complete with a large package of condoms that had been discreetly delivered to your house and hidden in Marcus’s nightstand. Thursday found you with drained energy and pounding in your temples. You took a mucus relief pill and hoped for the best. Much to your chagrin, you’d come home from work on Friday night with a nagging cough and a dripping nose, feeling utterly miserable. You’d helped Missy pack and sent her on her way to her friend’s lake house with a large bag of snacks you’d helped her shop for.

The cold evolved over the course of the night, leaving you a whimpering mess in Marcus’s arms. Marcus made the two of you hot chocolate with almond milk, insisting that dairy would only make you produce more of the slime plaguing you. He was right, and you’d cuddled and sipped your hot beverages while you watched a movie you’d been waiting to see when Missy wasn’t home. He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, noting the heat radiating from your skin every time. If it ever felt warm, he’d insist you take your temperature again. The beeping of the little stick made you wince when you heard it now, but you were always relieved to find you didn’t have a fever.

You’d retired later than the two of you normally did, but it was still early in the night. As Marcus removed his glasses and set them on his nightstand, you cuddled into his chest and sighed. This was going to be a long night with your painful throat, and you hoped you wouldn’t wake Marcus.

It took a long time to fall asleep, despite Marcus’s steady breathing calming you. You’d got up and sat at the window, admiring the way the large tree in the Morenos’ backyard swayed and rustled with the gusts of wind. Marcus made the soft noises of a nightmare. He’s had many of them, too many, and it breaks your heart. You climbed back into bed and kissed at his neck and jaw just enough to wake him from the dream, then admired the rise and fall of his chest as he fell back asleep.

Around 2 A.M., you finally fell asleep.

-

When you wake in the morning, the Saturday sun filtering through the gauzy curtains you’d hung in the bedroom, Marcus is still deeply asleep. You roll over and take a deep gulp, taking inventory of the feelings in your body.

Your throat still stings, but nowhere near the level it hurt the past few days. That makes you sigh in relief. You still can’t breathe through one nostril, but that’s a minor effect. You yawn and attempt to pop your ears but they’re still too plugged.

The biggest issue you notice is in your stomach. It aches and churns, feeling just generally gross. You suppose the amount of your mucus in your stomach isn’t exactly helping your situation. Sighing again, you sit on the edge of the bed for a moment before standing next to it.

Marcus rolls over, frowning at the lack of your warmth, the emptiness in his arms. “Baby?” He asks, groggy and rough from sleep.

“Right here,” you say- or you try to. Your voice croaks from your throat, barely audible. Oh, shit.

Marcus opens his eyes as he looks over at you, frowning even deeper. “Are you okay?” he asks, sitting up and putting on his glasses. It’s a small relief to see that you’re right next to him and not visibly pained or distraught.

“Fine, yeah,” you say, but your hand flies to your throat, coughing and trying to clear it. You chuckle, the raspy and cracking voice sound filling the room.

Marcus laughs softly. “How do you feel?” He asks gently, taking one of your hands.

“Okay. Better, actually, but my voice is just…” you sigh at the strain of talking. “And my stomach feels like absolute shit.”

He frowns, pushing the covers off from his lap. “Well, you should eat something. Let’s get you some breakfast, huh? I’ll make you some toast,” he offers, standing up and pulling you alongside him as he begins to walk.

He’s warm, and you’re unbearably hot. “Sure,” you nod and scoot away from him. He looks at you with sad eyes and you offer an apologetic smile. “I’m just really warm, I’m sorry.”

Marcus’s eyes are filled with understanding and he nods. “You wanna take a cool shower and I’ll make you some breakfast?” He asks, just taking your hand instead.

“Please,” you smile and kiss his cheek. “I love you so much,” you whisper, finding that at least you can sound somewhat normal if you speak in such a low tone.

“Love you too, beautiful,” he chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re like Ariel. Did some kind of mean sea witch steal your voice?” He asks teasingly, making you croak out a laugh.

“Just call me the little mermaid,” you sigh, swallowing and wincing at the pain.

“You know, that’s a nickname my dad called my mom when I was little. Sirenita. It literally means little mermaid,” he smiles down at you, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. “Go hop in the shower. It’ll feel good.”

You nod and obey, heading back in the bedroom and into the attached bathroom. You take a nice shower, and the cool water feels good on your warm skin. You turn up the heat a little and relish in the way the steam soothes your nose, makes everything feel just a little better. Once you’re done, you dry your hair and pull on a tank top and a pair of Marcus’s sweatpants, wandering downstairs.

Being Marcus, he’s made a gorgeous spread of food for you. There is toast and fruit, scrambled eggs, all kinds of foods. “Hi. I didn’t know how much flavor you could tolerate, so I just-”

He’s cut off when you throw your arms around him and kiss the side of his face. “Thank you,” you rasp out, squeezing him tight. “You’re the best man on Earth. How are you so cute?”

He’s about to respond but there’s a high pitched noise and he turns quickly, out of your arms. “Oh, I’m making tea for you too,” he tells you and kisses the bridge of your nose before he grabs the kettle from the stove.

“You literally just proved my point further,” you laugh and follow him along, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “I know we had all kinds of grand plans for this weekend, but I think we need to put today’s on hold.”

He smiles at the feeling, putting one hand atop of your arm. “Oh, I know. It’s alright. We’ve still got two more days,” he assures you and rubs your arm slowly with his strong hands, the other one pouring the kettle into two mugs with tea bags.

“God, I don’t deserve you,” you sigh and let go to stand next to him, pulling the tea bag and watching it bob in the water.

Marcus frowns, a few lines in his forehead. “Yes you do. You deserve everything I can do for you and more, mi sirenita,” he says softly, looking down at you. “And what you deserve today, especially with how you’re feeling, is rest. So I’ve made us an alternate plan.”

“Oh yeah?” You croak.

“You got it. The first part is that you don’t talk for the rest of the day. I’ll only ask you yes or no questions,” he tells you as he picks up the two mugs. “We’re just going to cuddle in bed or on the couch and binge watch that new series we’ve been meaning to watch. You’ll only get up to go to the bathroom, and I’ll get you everything else. My mom is going to bring some of her famous soup over later, she texted me, and we’ll have that for dinner. Does that sound good?”

You pout at him with big and loving eyes. “That’s so sweet,” you coo and reach for the mug of tea.

He pulls it back and raises an eyebrow, teasingly smiling. “Ah. No more talking starting… now. Does that sound good?” He repeats, holding the mugs far from your body. You nod and he grins, handing you the mug.

“Good.” Marcus kisses your head softly. “Alright, babe. You want honey and lemon in this?” He asks as he prepares his own tea.

Once again, you nod. Marcus never said anything about phones. You pull it from your pocket, and an automated voice speaks what you type for you.

“Marcus Moreno you are a little shit and I adore your cute butt,” a robotic voice vocalizes for you. He turns and you grin as you hold up the phone, giggling softly. You type in more words for it. “Hello Marcus it is me I am a cyborg now. Marcus Moreno has a cute ass and the world knows it because he is famous and I am eternally grateful for that.”

Marcus frowns. “Stop making that thing talk about my ass.”

“I am solely using this to objectify you now that you said that. Marcus Moreno has washboard abs and is really sexy. Marcus Moreno’s ass is squishier than it looks. The reason Marcus has such strong thighs is because he fucks like a machine. Marcus Moreno is a DILF.” You’re giggling uncontrollably now.

“Give me that goddamn thing, I swear to God,” he laughs and tries to steal it from you. You jerk it back with a squeal, and Marcus leans forward again to grab it. “You can’t run from me with that thing. It’s metal.”

You break your promise not to speak. “I can try!” You squeal and the Heroic lunges for you again. With a squeak, you take off into the living room, dodging around and running through the maze of the couch and coffee table.

You stumble a little, your arms waving in the air as you try to catch your balance. That’s the perfect moment, and the phone in your hand zips through the air and into Marcus’s palm. “Goddamnit,” you whine and flop down on the couch, lying on your back.

Marcus shakes his head but he’s smiling. “It was all cute until you called me a DILF.” He walks until he’s standing at your side.

“You are,” you grin up at him, voice crackling. “You’re a dad and I’d like to fuck you.”

Rolling his eyes, Marcus bends down and lifts you up, making you squeal again. “Jesus Christ,” he sighs, but you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he fireman-carries you to the kitchen. “I told you not to talk. I told you to relax. And what do you do?”

“Sorry,” you laugh, your face nearly pressed into his back as he holds you over his shoulder. “Couldn’t help it. It just sounded hilarious. I had to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets you down and playfully smacks your ass, stealing a quick kiss before pulling a chair out from the table. “Eat.”

Shaking your head, you laugh. “I suppose that’s a good idea.” You grab a fork and scoop up some of the various foods. “I love you so much.

“No talking, little mermaid,” he reminds you, taking a sip from his cooled tea.

“I like that better in Spanish,” you murmur as you take a sip of the hot tea and sigh at the relief.

“What, you like sirenita?”

You smile and nod, going back to your vow of silence as you eat some of the breakfast. The two of you eat together quietly, in the comfortable lull that the two of you are so good at. Marcus isn’t a huge talker, and he appreciates a partner who can leave the silence in the air without needing to fill it. The quiet clanks of your metal utensils against the porcelain plates is enough.

You sigh when you finish your food, a wave of exhaustion coming over your body once more now that your stomach is settled and most things feel better than before. Marcus looks over at you and smiles. “Alright, Princess Ariel. Oh, does that make me Prince Eric?” He asks with a laugh.

You nod excitedly, trying not to speak, but you have to. “You look just like him.”

“First of all, no I do not, and second of all, no more talking.”

“I can make that decision,” you tease, though you know he’s doing it out of love. “You do. You’re tall and have pretty wavy dark hair and you’re ripped.”

“Missing the blue eyes.”

“I like brown better anyway,” you tell him with a lovestruck smile. You take the last sip of your tea, your eyes falling shut.

Marcus’s love would taste like tea, you think: warm honey, delicate flowers, spiced and flavorful herbs, earthy leaves, bright citrus, and warmth that soothes any ache you can possibly feel.

The weight of your eyelids is growing heavy, and Marcus can tell. “Well, mi amor,” he chuckles and stands. “You look tired.”

For once, you don’t disagree. “I am. I love you.”

“I love you too, sirenita. Let’s get you to bed.” Marcus carries you up the stairs as you nestle into his chest, sighing. There’s nowhere better than here.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[pixiedoodlein]

10 days until school and I’m no more decided than I was a week ago. I flip flop ten times day about what might be best. A is sick of hearing me talk about it. He doesn’t disagree with my risk assessment but he is sick of talking about it.

It caused an issue with his friend, a friend who is his best friend and is unvaccinated and works in a jail. Months ago we told friend he could only visit (this place is their boyhood dream) once he’s vaccinated. Friend typically believes in science and is very health conscious but his gf is a moron Trump lover and her family the same and that’s who he’s been spending all his time with since this all started. When I asked friend why he’s not vaccinated he said he’s young & healthy, didn’t trust the vaccines, would do it when they got full fda approval. Plenty of young healthy people are dead of this. Anyway then I asked ok so what if you give it to someone who isn’t and dies, people incarcerated in the jail he works in and don’t have the luxury of social distancing, and he was like eh whatever. So yes friend is an asshole, but his best friend for decades, friend has always been kind of an asshole but has many redeeming qualities too. So we said no visit. But then in July when there was no covid here and no covid where he lives and we were blissfully living our covid free lives we loosened up and said he could visit with two negative tests. But then covid got bad again and when asshole friend contacted A the other day to say he took time off in late Sept to visit, A said sorry, it’s fully fda approved now you have no excuses not to vaccinate, we’re worried about our unvaccinated kids, and as of now you can’t visit but hey maybe if you get vaccinated and the numbers look better we can reassess in a month and you can come. Friend was a total dick about it, didn’t understand our point of view at all, stressed A about it, who was in a bad mood about it for days afterward.

Then there’s the neighbors. I had a chat with the kids and a chat with the mom. I framed it as we love them so much and I know they’re careful but I think we should all be more careful while the numbers are so rising (aka only outdoor hangouts) and we are careful but I’ve heard terrifying stories from doctor friends about kids and babies getting very sick, and they have a baby who I don’t want us to make sick, and she said she agreed. The kids have been pretty good about making the adjustment from constant sleepovers to playing outside but M keeps asking me “the kids need to pee are they allowed to use the bathroom, the kids are hungry are they allowed to come inside even for one minute for a snack,” and I feel like the villain (I’ve been saying yes to pee, snacks I’ll bring out). Everyone’s been understanding but nobody is getting what I mean when I say only outdoor socializing. All the kids keep asking me when I’ll take them to town again for ice cream, “but it’s outside” (um yeah but the car’s not), asking their mom to ask me for sleepovers even though they know what the answer will be. The other day they were playing in our yard then it started raining and they were like “we can’t walk home in the rain”- I don’t want them to walk home in the rain, but again the car is indoors!- so I drove them home (but made M stay at our house). They’re not my kids so I can’t make them wear masks and it feels like now I am in the position of being the mean parent who’s psycho about covid, which in a way I am, but it would help me to stick to my guns and feel okay about sticking to them if the government policies matched the severity of the situation, ie mask mandates in public places (instead of stores posting polite recommendations), vaccine mandates, virtual learning options, etc.

Which brings me to school. After selling M hard on real school, then I sold her hard on home school. She already “did” 3rd grade last year (as much as me teaching her in my pajamas counts as doing), but this district has an earlier cut off than the city, so she’s in 3rd grade again here. Which is fine by me- her birthday is the same day as the very late nyc cut off (12/31) and I hated that she was the absolute youngest. I used to beg the school to hold her back and they’d say “but why she’s doing so well!” not understanding that I was thinking ahead to the teen years. But anyway, despite her haphazard pj’d professor, she seemed to learn a lot last year so homeschool this year could basically be unschool. She’d traipse around the forest identifying birds and trees with A and her brother, reading for pleasure, and I’d spend an hour here and there reviewing some worksheets with her so she’d be on track when she starts real school after she gets vaccinated. She was into the idea, until she found out she and one of the neighbor kids are in the same class. Now she absolutely wants to go to real school, AND ride the school bus. The school bus part makes me very nervous. While there is now a school mask mandate (but will it be enforced? what are their lunch procedures, what % of teachers are vaccinated, what % of the older kids in the same building as the little kids are vaccinated, did they actually really update their ventilation system?) and a bus mask rule, it’s a long rural route (15 min drive or 45 min bus) and I have no faith that bus windows will be open and all riders will be masked the whole time.

So just tell her she can go to school but has to be driven by a parent, right? Not so simple. I was offered a job at a (somewhat, commuting distance) nearby nonprofit- an easy low stress job in a bastion of liberalism with very very nice smart coworkers, excellent work life balance, a writing job that sounds made for me, like the job description is exactly what I would put together if I were putting together my dream job (except the pay, which is half what I was making at a fancy DC nonprofit, but high for this area, and our housing cost is half so it should be fine if A can get away from little guy long enough to bring in some money too). It’s mostly remote but approx one day a week in the office and some days there will be things I need to attend out in the community (not necessarily our community, they serve the whole region). It won’t always be the same day in the office and the office is an hour away- so on those days A would have no car to get her to and from school, since I’d need to leave before school starts and get home after it’s done. So I guess we need to buy a new car? Aside from this issue we really don’t need a second car now, were planning to get one eventually, but not until A’s business has enough projects to justify the cost.

Despite its many demands/challenges/ stressors, home school is sounding easier to me at this point (especially because she already did this grade), except she WANTS to go to school. Someone talk me out of putting some lipstick and a pantsuit on her and taking her to get vaccinated. I know, I know: the 5-11 dosage is 1/3 of the 12-adult dosage. The doctors I’ve spoken to are split on this hypothetical kamikaze mission. The doctors I’ve spoken to are also split on me and A going to a pharmacy now for booster. It’s been almost 6 months since our 2nd dose. We do not have compromised immune systems. This county has way more doses than demand and I would feel better sending M to school (bus or not) if we had our boosters and she had a first dose- moral and scientific quandaries aside- because there is A LOT of covid here now, a lot of covid everywhere now, and I feel like we are returning to regular life at the time when we should be most hunkered down.

Which brings me to the data. Per capita there are as many known cases here as in nyc, except nyc has a 50% higher vax rate, much more mask usage, better medical system. People are not getting enough tests here, there is a higher positivity rate, and so I think the actual number of cases is much higher than the reported number of cases. It seems like, friends here and in the city and in the suburbs (I just broke up with a friend in the suburbs because she professes to be a good democrat but is hosting a bonafide super spreader event and vacationing in a place with 39% positivity and a collapsed health care system), are thinking of covid as something you catch from strangers- they wear masks in stores- but aren’t careful at all around close friends and family (so many extended family gatherings, so many, cousins and grandparents and half-siblings and aunts and uncles and whoever), when this is a disease that kills via the people you love most, the ones who’d never intentionally hurt you.

[pizadowa]

generally a lil nervous to ask, buuut, since I’ve seen a few people chat about how Ivy/the sibs would take care of Carmen when she gets sick, but how would Carmen take care of Ivy if she got sick? I curious to see your take on this 👀 (Carmivy intended?)

oh anon don’t be nervous or shy, this is a very benign ask and I like to think I'm not intimidating 😢..😭

but anywhoooo ... I actually have thought about this before, so I felt like whipping up a quick Ivy POV ficlet rather than strictly talk about Carmen ... :)

-- --

Unlike Zack’s sensitive chemical makeup, Ivy's immune system is built like a supercharged ox, and when it comes to sickness she has vastly more experience being other people’s—namely Zack’s—begrudging caretaker than catching anything herself. 

In the nearly three years she’s traveled the world with Team Red, she can count on less than one hand the times she’s fallen ill, and each instance hardly interfered with their capers, not to mention her self-prescribed medicine of “toughing-it-out” has gotten her through even the roughest days. She's not exactly a fan of admitting defeat to a cold, nor being so useless that someone would need to take care of her, especially when that someone is almost always Zack. His questionable understanding of the human body means he's less adept at relieving any real symptoms and more so at keeping her company enough to distract her frazzled, sickly mind. It's not ideal, but it’s the only thing she knows, and it’s better than getting Carmen involved; Ivy would rather their getaway driver catch her sickness than their very important team leader.

So when she wakes up one day in their new HQ to immobilizing muscle pain, a presumably contagious case of the sniffles, and a very concerned Carmen seated at her bedside instead of Zack, she’s more than a little bit freaking out.

“Wh… Carm?” Ivy submerges part of her face under the covers, fearful of spreading her mystery contagion despite their distance. For extra good measure she directs her head away to her night table, taking note of a glass of water and tissues that definitely weren’t there before. “How long have you…?”

Carmen brings one leg onto the bed and curls her palms around it as she speaks, “Not too long. I was actually just wrapping up some sets when Zack ran in screaming like a banshee about you. It’s amazing that didn’t wake you up.”

Ivy’s vision focuses out of its watery haze enough to comprehend Carmen’s tight athletic wear and exposed skin that’s somehow less sweaty than her own. A cold-hot chill sends her into shivers. 

“I’m pretty sure that was the demon in my fever dream." She cringes at the sound of her own nasally voice wreaking havoc on her aching head. "Where is he, anyway?”

“I sent him out to the store and had Shadowsan tag along to make sure he doesn’t go overboard with the anecdotal home remedies.”

The imagery has Ivy falling into laughter that quickly becomes a strained coughing fit beneath her thick blanket. Carmen noticeably teeters away, which only adds to the discomfort in her chest.

“Ugh, sorry for the gross sound effects.”

“Don’t be. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be doing too hot in the morning. You were hardly eating and going to bed earlier than Shadowsan.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah. So, all-in-all, I was expecting this.”

“Double ugh.” She buries herself within the bed until the only thing she can see is threaded darkness. The weight by her legs shifts closer, and then there’s a gentle hand on her blanketed bicep. It’s warm even through the fabric.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Actually, I guess do sweat it if you have a fever. Do you have a fever?”

Ivy’s about to answer when the blanket peels back and the hand that was on her arm presses firmly to her forehead. She blinks past the slender forearm in her view and over to Carmen’s determined face leaning closer with each passing second. For a moment their intense eyes cross paths, lock on to each other before softening completely, and Ivy is overcome with an urge to hold on. To what, she doesn’t know, but one of her hands takes the initiative and reaches up to Carmen’s wrist—which pulls away just as her fingernails make contact with smooth skin.

“You feel warm, but it’s hard to say,” Carmen contemplates aloud and returns to her previous spot on the bed. “We’ll need that thermometer once Zack and Shadowsan are back, but in the meantime, I’m here. Whatever you need.”

Ivy struggles to push a scratchy lump down her throat as she shoves her hand back under the covers. 

She's not used to this. Unless it’s Zack—who’s almost too obliging for his own good—she avoids asking for help as much as possible. She prefers to handle most things perfectly well on her own, and she’s since learned her hard lesson of what happens when you owe a debt to others. The very thought of burdening Carmen with something as dumb as a little cold sets her nerves even more haywire. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she grumbles weakly.

Carmen shoots her a look like she's just said a profane insult. "I shouldn't?"

"Yeah, I'm all sick and stuff. Wouldn't you prefer to be...not...sick and stuff?"

"Checking your temperature is nothing. And besides, you were probably contagious days ago. If I got it, I got it.” Ivy’s face contorts into a sarcastic pout, but Carmen preemptively interrupts her griping with a raised hand. “I’m just saying it takes a bit more than that to knock me down, and if I’m fine now, I might as well help out. Seriously, I think I get sick even less than you do."

Ivy pauses to consider it, only able to recall taking care of a Carmen who has been downed by injuries and overexertion, not acute illnesses. Not even a little upset stomach from too much delicious food like she and Zack—though mostly Zack—are wont to do.

"Still, I don't wanna risk it." Ivy shuffles on her back to the farther side of the bed. "I appreciate your concern, Carm, I really do, but I'll be fine. Just send Zack in here once he's back."

"Oh." Carmen frowns at her in a way Ivy’s never received before, and for an intense split second she feels a strange pang of guilt. "Sure, but...this is the same Zack who thought the best remedy for altitude sickness was sticking a fan at the front of the tent to magically blow in more oxygen?"

"Uh—" 

"And who once drank a phony herbal miracle cure from downtown that made even his worst food poisoning look like a work of art?"

"Ew-uh, gross!" Ivy scrunches up her entire face, only relaxing it once she sees lightning behind her eyelids. "Okay, okay, I get it. You really don't want Zack taking care of me."

"It's not just that."

With great effort Ivy sits up out of her cocoon for the first time that morning. "What'd'ya mean?"

Carmen twists her torso completely toward Ivy. "You guys are always looking out for me when I'm down for the count. And you, you've been the only one taking care of Zack for how long?" 

Ivy offers a small chuckle of understanding. “Too long.”

"Exactly. So the least I could do is return the favor and pamper you for once. I may not be a doctor but I do cook a mean sopa de mondongo, and that's always helped me when I was sick on the isle."

"I don't even know what that is and I feel better already."

"Wait ‘til you actually try it. Funny enough we actually have all the ingredients, but not the basics for treating a nasty cold, go figure."

"Food is the priority around here."

Carmen snatches a glass of water from Ivy's night table and extends it over the bed to her. "Finish this, I'll go get started on the soup. The guys should be back soon with some medicine. Think you can hold out just a bit longer?"

Ivy takes the glass in her hands and peers down at its fullness with a warmth in her chest that crawls up her neck. “Yeah, yeah I think I can do that.”

"Good."

“Oh, and...I’m really happy it’s you here right now. Like, really really happy.” Ivy pauses. “Don’t tell Zack I said that.”

She peers up from her watery reflection to see Carmen beaming at her in silent affirmation, and she does her best to offer the same expression. She takes a few slow sips of her lukewarm drink, fully expecting Carmen to have left by now, but instead the other girl shifts closer on the bed. Closer into Ivy’s space.

"You know,” Carmen starts, her voice husked low despite not needing to, and Ivy can feel her heart beating across every inch of her body, “I'm told I give amazing massages, in case those muscle aches become too much trouble for you.”

She trails her hand along Ivy's covered thigh before lightly squeezing down her ankle, and the peculiar sensations have Ivy frozen with nothing else to do but gawk at her. She offers an unreadable smirk with lidded eyes that cast her mind further into delirium, and walks out of the room without another word.

When she’s fully registered that she’s alone again, Ivy wolfs down the rest of her water, barely managing to fend off a spell of wheezes, and quickly discards the glass to the empty sheets next to her. With a buzzing in her cranium that ripples throughout her entire body, she flings herself down to her pillows to smother her overheated cheeks with a shaky sigh.

"I should get sick more often."

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

cw food mention, nausea mention, fever, anxiety, the concept of not feeling bad enough to merit comfort, depression, isolation

Hi!  I am still accepting bingo prompts!  The crossed out prompts are already written, the starred ones are ones that I have gotten, but not posted yet!  Let me know which character you want and if you prefer writing on a drawing! Bingo sheet by the wonderful @celosiaa​

Jon wakes up to Martin leaving before dawn.  Walks him to the door, hands him breakfast and a thermos of tea.  Goes back to bed, the sticky exhaustion nipping at his heals, at the back of his skull.  Inserted in the grit in the corner of his eyes.  

He wakes up to an empty bed, Martin’s side of the room looking sad and empty, usual trinkets of their cohabitation lacking.  No prescription on the nightstand, no glasses, no poetry book, no neatly folded outfit set out for the morning, closet looking empty.  

The room is bathed in the grey light of early morning.  Jon goes back to sleep.  

He wakes up properly at nine.  He makes tea, staring at the faded sticky note that Martin had written precisely how both he and Jon respectively take their tea.  Jon remembers by this point.  It’s been years since he Needed to look at the note, but he still looks at it because… well… it’s Martin’s writing.  Instructions written with care and precision, with a little heart and a smily face.  He doesn’t trace the writing, he isn’t that pathetic, and he doesn’t want the paper to disintegrate any faster than it already is… but he wants to.  

Martin will be back in a couple days.  He shouldn’t be this clingy…  But the flat already feels empty and cold.  Jon shivers, holding his tea close to his chest, and resisting the temptation to make a second cup for Martin.  

Jon teaches his classes.  He eats lunch in his office.  A sandwich that tastes like chalk and fills his mouth with cement.  He grades a few papers.  He teaches another class.  He rides the tube home.  He falls asleep on the couch.  He wakes up on the couch.  The flat cold around him, the cushions stiff and frozen against his slight and hurting frame.  Joints stiff against the chill.  

He thinks about making dinner, or even just reheating some leftovers, but he doesn't.  He texts Martin.  'Love you, hope the volunteer training is going well.'

He falls asleep.  Heavy and aching and so tired.  

He wakes up on the cold couch to a buzz from his phone.  'Going well, just finished up for the night.  Love you!'

It's dark now, but not late.  Daylight doesn't last long in the grey of winter in London.  Jon shivers.  He thinks again about dinner, and how Martin would want him to eat, but he just wants a warm shower and to go to bed.  

He considers his cane, but doesn't feel it worth the effort.  It is out of his way, and he would just like to get this over with.  

Jon hates sitting in the shower, but he hates baths more, and his hurting limbs won't keep him up any longer.  

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat.  Salt on his lips, saltwater on his lashes.  The flat is cold.  Cold like his dreams.  Panic on his breath as the Lonely dreams still hold him in their vice.  He wraps his arms around his chest.  He tries to rub his own back despite aching muscles, trying to make his own boney hands sooth him like Martin can.  He shakes and he cries silently.  

He checks his phone, the low brightness still stinging his eyes, and smears the numbers of the time beyond recognition, but he makes out no new messages.  

He pushes himself out of bed on aching legs, and shaking arms, pulling on one of Martin's sweaters and stopping by the loo.  

He makes tea.  And tries to take comfort because it is almost as good as when Martin makes it.  

Jon goes back to bed.  

It's morning and Jon's head hurts.  His head hurts and his arms hurt and his legs hurt and his back hurts.  

He almost pushes himself up to get ready for work, but he remembers it is Saturday.  

Jon rolls over to Martin's side of the bed.  Placing himself in the divot where Martin would be, if he were not out of town.  

Jon texts Martin.  'Morning, have a nice day, love you.'

Jon dozes.  

He should make breakfast.  But he isn't hungry, and he doesn't want to move.  Even if his small frame isn't holding heat, even under the thick covers of their bed.  He wants the weighted blanket.  He wants the heated blanket, but those live in the closet.  Those are for bad nights.  Mostly of the time He and Martin under the thick duvet is enough.  

But it isn't night and it isn't that bad, is it?  And even so, that is more effort that he thinks he can spare.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

Meaningless texts with the mundanities that are beyond him.  Little messages about missing him, about making tea, about reading.  None of them lies, but cutting out the dragging exhaustion that has given way to a dragging fever.  

And Martin texts back.  

Jon bundled in the heated blanket and Martin's jumper on the couch.  Dosing off to the Archers.  He still hates that show, but it's easier to hate something for the content than admitting he feels too shitty to even enjoy the documentaries he has been saving for the weekend.  

He grades some.  Not much.  And he makes tea.  

He thinks again about the leftovers in the refrigerator, but he doesn't have the energy to eat them.  Lacks the appetite.  

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  Tea cooling on the coffee table.  Papers spread around him in uneven heaps.  

Jon texts Martin.  And Martin texts back.  

Only the buzz of the phone keeping him from sinking deeper into misery.    

Jon texts him whenever he is awake to do so, and Martin texts back during his breaks.  

Jon's head hurts.  He is shivering despite the heated blanket that is tight around him.  Woken from another nightmare by his own gasping breath.  The Stranger this time.  

He calls Tim.  

"Jon?  Everything okay?"

Still gasping from the phantom hands rubbing him down, fighting the nausea that comes with that particular brand of terror, of that trauma of his invaded personal space.  And the desperation that someone come and save him from his cold and empty flat and end this lonely weekend.  

"Jon, are you alright?  Where are you, do you need your inhaler?"  

Jon probably does, but he fights for breath for a minute and he's more or less okay.  

"I'm home.  It's fine, sorry for calling."  He feels foolish for being needy, and more foolish still because he's fighting back tears now.  Tears over nothing at all.  Just the fever.  Just the dreams.  Martin will be home tomorrow, and Jon will probably be feeling better by then, and if not, it's probably mostly exhaustion anyways.  He's been having a hard time getting restful sleep.  

"Hey, hey, hey Jon.  It's okay to call.  Are you alright?  Do you need someone to come over?"  Tim isn't angry.  It still surprises Jon that there is no bite to his voice.  No snipping, not sarcasm, not annoyance.  Just... warmth, caring.  

"Just a little under the weather.  I'm okay.  Sorry for bothering you... Had a dream... and just... Sorry it's foolish.  I'm alright."  Jon shivers, and hoping he doesn't sound too soggy over the phone.  He aches.  Stupid joints.  Stupid immune system.  Gives out the minute Martin leaves.  Which... good.  He guesses… at least Martin isn't losing sleep over him this time.  He hates that Martin doesn't sleep when caring for Jon.  He Hates it.  He hates stealing sleep for him, even if this is the mundane way of doing it, he still has cost Martin too much over the years.  

"I'm gonna come over, okay?  It's not a bother, it's not an inconvenience, I had been planning to give you a visit anyhow, I've been too busy to drop by in a while and I want to see you because you are my friend, and if I make you soup as well, hey we both get dinner out of it.  I promise I Want to.  Sasha still has work, so I don't have any company tonight anyhow.  No plans.  Nothing."

"Not been hungry."  That's all Jon has the energy to argue.  

"Feeling queasy, or just the usual fever nonsense?"  Tim asks.  He sounds too cheerful for this.  

"Nightmare queasy now, but mostly just... fever probably."

"Oof.  One of those nightmares?  Yikes.  Well, that kind usually passes in a bit, then we can make you some Spicy Stoker Sick-day Soup.  This Is to my benefit.  Sasha isn't a big fan, and Martin isn't either.  It's a good excuse to make some good comfort food."

Jon almost smiles.  "'kay."  

Tim must guess he's falling asleep again.  "Get some rest.  I'll be there soon with some soup stuff and meds.  Don't worry about letting me in, I have a key, remember?"

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  

He wakes up to tea being set in front of him.  

Jon groans and rubs at his eyes.  

"I know I've said it before, but that note in the kitchen is fucking adorable!  I mean... a little sad that it took you that long to learn how to make yourself tea, but still fucking precious that the note still has a place of honor.  Not to mention, it's good reference for when I want to make you the perfect comfort cup of tea!"  Tim smiles at him.  

And it isn't the same as with Martin, but it still warms him up.  At least a little.  

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"

Jon tiredly rock his hand in a so-so motion.  

"Mind if I take your temperature before you drink that tea?"

Jon turns his attention inward to see if what remains of the Eye wants to be helpful today.  "38.6."

"That... I can't tell if that is handy or inconvenient.  In any case, not bad but not great.  You okay if I start the soup?  You can either get some more rest of join me in the kitchen and we can watch some Buzzfeed on my laptop?"

Jon nods.  He gathers his blanket and his tea, and limps to the kitchen.  

Tim sucks in his breath at Jon's clearly stiff movements, and rushes to plug the blanket back in before Jon can move to do so.  

"You.  Are not gonna help, okay?  You can help by drinking your tea, and some water and then getting back to the couch and using me as a pillow and eating a little something."

Jon opens his mouth to argue, but sees the steel in Tim's glare.  Nothing unkind, but still solid resistance.  He nods.  

Jon falls asleep on Tim.  On the couch.  Empty bowls stacked next to Tim's laptop, cord plugged in next to Jon's blanket.  

Tim stays the next afternoon until Martin gets home.  Marin scolding Jon for not telling him he was ill.  Martin thanking Tim for coming.  Martin wrinkling his nose at the soup.  

Martin's prescription and glasses, and clothes and book back in their proper places.  Martin in Martin's divot in the mattress, Jon smooshed against Martin, still a shade too warm, but much better than earlier.  

Jon falls asleep in Martin's arms.  

[weathergirl8]

Master of Deflection - Part 6

Finally found time to post this sucker during this crazy week of graduation prep! Graduation practice tomorrow and actual ceremony Friday night for my associate's degree!

This is for you @ak47stylegirl and anyone else who enjoys Alan whump/smothering. Of course, there will be some extra Virgil in there too, because I just love the big guy.

@misssquidtracy @gumnut-logic @godsliltippy Thank you for your support on this fic!!

I bring you some Sky Turnip and Land Cabbage 💙💚

As a friendly reminder, I originally came from the TOS and TB 2004 era. I’ve tried to write a few TAG point-of-views, but my comfort zone is the previous. This will take place with Gordon as the redhead, and Virgil as the middle bro. Sorry!

Summary: Being the youngest of five is always hard, especially when they pounce at the slightest hair out of line. Sometimes the art of deflection can sting.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil tried to suppress a yawn as he grabbed the needed medication from the infirmary. Alan’s fever had climbed nearly another degree. The medic of the family instinctively made the call to start antibiotics quickly. Virgil was confident they were now dealing with more than the common cold and that a bacterial infection was beginning to set in.

Entering Alan’s room, the middle Tracy was concerned to see the bed empty. Only the sight of the strewn sheets and a pile of used tissues remained. “Allie?”

“I’m in here,” Alan’s hoarse voice called from the bathroom.

Virgil sat the meds down and met the crumbled form of his baby brother. Alan sat on the bathroom floor, the wall seeming to be the only thing holding him up. “Sick again?”

“Yup,” Alan grumbled as he reached to flush the toilet. Virgil handed him a towel to clean himself up. “Thanks.”

Virgil helped him up but quickly took hold of his younger brother’s waist as the teen’s legs nearly crumbled. “Alan, you okay?”

“Yea,” the teen panted as another cough erupted from him. “Brain and body just don’t want to cooperate at the moment.”

“C’mon, let’s get you back in bed,” Virgil urged as they made the short walk to Alan’s bed. “If you don’t start keeping things down, I’m going to have to start an IV, kiddo. I’m worried about dehydration.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. This isn’t exactly a party,” Alan wheezed, letting his head sink back into his pillow.

Virgil observed him as Alan coughed and tried to take in a deep breath. “How long has that been going on?”

“I dunno,” Alan shrugged. “Awhile, I guess. It’s not like I’m writing all of this down.”

The middle Tracy handed Alan two pills, motioning for the teen to take the antibiotics. “When you’re not exerting yourself, is it hard to breathe?”

Alan gave his older brother a weird look but decided against the first thought that entered his mind. He wouldn’t exactly call laying in bed exerting himself, but who was he to judge? “If you call breathing with my mouth mostly, then sure.”

Virgil now wished he had kept the kid in the infirmary so he could ease his mind and have all of his equipment at his disposal. Knowing it wasn’t something the baby of the family would do, he opted for what he had in front of him. “Alright, if it gets worse, let me know immediately. Here’s something that will help with nausea, and something to hopefully help with that cough,” he said, handing Alan the tiny pill and cup of cough suppressant.

“Why do these always have to taste so gross?” Alan complained as he quickly swallowed several gulps of water.

“That’s how you know it’ll work,” Virgil smirked, winking at his annoyed sibling.

-TB-

The sunrise was Scott’s favorite part of his morning run. The smell of the morning dew across the island jungle and the colorful orange and yellow hues that rippled across the water.

He slowed his pace to a jog as he came across the broadest part of the beach on the Island. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, the oldest Tracy paused as he noticed a figure ahead. Confusion met him as he recognized the build of the person. Scott quickly jogged forward, calling out to his younger brother. “Virgil?”

“Hey, Scott,” the chestnut-haired Tracy greeted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel.

Scott struggled for a moment. He knew he was treading on thin ice for his brother to be up this early. Virgil was always active, but athletically the medic was more of a gym guy. He found more solace in lifting weights and punching bags. Sprinting and running were always something the other brothers had enjoyed, barring John. It was rare to catch Virgil on a run outside of the gym, especially on one before the sun had been up for at least one hour in the sky.

“Pretty view, huh?” Virgil interrupted his thoughts, almost sensing his brother’s unease.

“Always is,” Scott smiled in appreciation. “No sunrise seems to be the same.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Virgil replied, taking a seat along the sand.

Scott’s concern only increased, but he followed his brother along the cool sand. His blue eyes searched the ocean while taking small glances at Virgil.

“You can ask,” Virgil exhaled, surprising the elder. “I know you’re wondering why I’m out here so early.”

Scott tried to suppress the grin that he knew was also on Virgil’s face. “Didn’t want to push.”

Virgil nodded in understanding, letting his hands rest on his raised knees. “Bad dreams and worried about Alan,” he stated plainly.

“I checked in on the kid before I started my run. Al was sound asleep, but he still felt warm and sounded congested. I think that humidifier might be helping,” Scott said, watching Virgil as he stared out into the water. “I didn’t want to disturb him. He needs his rest.”

“Allie’s exhausted,” Virgil admitted. “Between the coughing, vomiting, and congestion, his sleep has been interrupted. I gave him a round of antibiotics and something to help with the other symptoms. Alan’s definitely caught something bacterial for sure. Those cold waters from the rescue didn’t do him any favors.”

“I’m sure those will help,” Scott reassured. “He just needs time for the meds and his immune system to work.” The elder Tracy studied his brother once again. “Do you want to talk about the dreams?”

Virgil sighed as he threw a rock he had been playing with toward the water. “It was about the last mission.”

“I figured,” Scott added. “I would’ve been surprised if you didn’t. I know what it felt like being on the receiving end. I can only imagine what it was like in the moment physically.”

“Definitely won’t be in my top 20,” Virgil chuckled solemnly.

“Who said it was getting past the top 50?” Scott laughed, nudging Virgil.

“Point taken,” the middle Tracy smiled.

“All jokes aside,” Scott started. “Are you okay?”

“Okay is a relative term, Scott. We compartmentalize and move on-“

“-Virg, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I do,” Virgil acknowledged meeting Scott's intense gaze. “Look, you know what happened. I don’t have to tell you again. I just…. I can’t get the image of the gun shoved against Alan’s neck out of my head and that look on his face. That look… Damnit, Scott. He’s too much like you!”

Scott tried not to laugh but empathized.

“I could tell Alan was scared, but the kid refused to show it. He was so trusting. Trusting of me to get us out of that situation.”

“You did, Virgil. Allie is safe because of you, and so are you. I was just as worried about you as I was our baby brother,” Scott countered. “You did what you had to, and no one was harmed.”

“That’s not the point, Scott. You have no idea how close it came.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, confused.

“There’s a bullet hole in the floor of the rescue platform. A hole that was inches away from hitting Alan when he hit the deck.”

Realization dawned on the oldest Tracy. “Is that what your dream was about? That the bullet actually hit Alan?”

Virgil remained silent as he collected his thoughts. He felt Scott turn to face him, the older pilot’s knees resting against one of his own. “Mostly, but what stuck with me most was that look. Like I said, having a hard time getting it out of my head.”

Scott placed a comforting hand along Virgil’s knee, squeezing it. “I know you don’t need me to tell you about how great you are when quick decisions need to be made. That goes without saying, but Allie trusted you with his life because so would I. Any of us would. The next time a lunatic threatens one of my brothers with a gun, he’ll wish neither one of us were around.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Anytime. You good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Virgil replied. “We probably should head in. Breakfast will be started soon, and I need to check on Alan and make sure Dad isn’t camping at his side.”

“Dad was still asleep when I checked on Al,” Scott said as they began to walk up the path that led to the main villa. “Besides, he has an early call with one of the new brokers, if I remember correctly.”

“Good, that should keep him occupied,” Virgil grinned.

TBC…

[terrm9]

Fall On Me

Words count: 4 200 Warnings: mentions of fertility issues, other than that just fluff Author’s note: This is the fic I have thought so much about. I have written something, then stopped, then written again, thought about it and considered for so long if I should post it or not. I have never been this nervous posting something, probably because there is a big part of me in it - therefore, any kind of feedback will be greatly appreciated!

After four years of dating and their first year being married, Chiara and Ethan find out that there are still surprises in store for them.

Important notes: My MC (Chiara) has been diagnosed with an immune system disorder that makes it close to impossible for her to become pregnant. It has been stated in Destination fic as well as in Already Gone series, but for those who haven’t read those, it’s important to know that so you understand the context.

There are three more important notes at the end (they would kind of ruin the experience if you read them in the beginning). PLEASE read them, especially the first one, it is really important to me.

***  ***  *** ***

As Ethan stepped into his office, the sight of sleeping Chiara on a couch didn’t even surprise him. It was the fifth time in the last ten days. She would throw an apologetic smile at him along with a muttered “I just need to catch a quick break” and half an hour later, he would find her fast asleep in his office.

At this point, surprise has been replaced by worrying. Ethan knew his wife and he knew that she could go weeks without rest. This behavior was strange, to say the least.  

He approached the couch and knelt next to it, gently brushing the hair off her forehead. Placing a soft kiss on it instead, he whispered: “Chiara, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes slowly at first, obviously confused about the whole situation. Realizing what was happening – again – she sat up rapidly, trying to come up with a good excuse.

“I am sorry, Ethan, I must have fallen asleep. I just wanted to sit down for a while and-“

“It’s okay,” Ethan cut her off and took a seat next to her, hugging her waist. “I’m just a little worried about your constant tiredness.”

Sighing, Chiara rubbed her eyes and leaned into his chest, shaking her head slowly.

“I am fine. It’s just… ever since we’ve gotten back from the Europe, the work has been crazy. Two weeks and I feel like I need another vacation.”

Visiting Europe has become their habit through the years. It started with a trip to Tuscany on Chiara’s third year of residency, continuing with a quick trip to France after getting engaged, honeymoon in Greece and finally this year, when they decided to spend their first wedding anniversary on a three-weeks long roadtrip through Scandinavia, finished with four days in The Basque Country, so that Chiara could pursue her dream of visiting Guernica, the village on Picasso’s painting.

Chiara was right about the work being absolutely crazy ever since they’ve gotten back and throwing a glance at the paperwork on his desk, Ethan was very well aware of the exhaustion they both felt. Still, he managed to get through his days without needing a nap.

“Let me draw your blood so that I can run some tests. Maybe it’s just iron deficiency, but I want to be sure,” Ethan murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “And go home to sleep.”

She turned to him, brows furrowed as she shook her head again.

“Absolutely not. I am fine, just a little weary. Just make me a cup of coffee and I’ll be fresh.”

Ethan stood up to make her the coffee, however he had no intention of letting her stay in work. He would bet that she was just ‘resting her eyes’ while he was turned to the coffee machine. As a doctor, there was one particular idea about what her exhaustion was about. Noticing such symptoms with anybody else, he would be absolutely sure. But this was Chiara he was thinking about and so he didn’t allow his mind wander into the direction it was tempted to.

“I am serious, Rookie. You are no use here, hardly keeping your eyes open. Drink the coffee, let me take your blood and go home to rest. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

She rolled her eyes and took the cup from his hands. Just as she was about to sip the coffee, she scrunched her nose in an utter disgust and looked up at him.

“Did you change the brand? This smells… ugh, I am not as demanding as you when it comes to coffee and even I can tell that this smells worse than the cafeteria coffee.”

Ethan bit his lip to hide the jitteriness overwhelming him at those words.

It was the same coffee brand they’ve been ordering for more than three years.

It was all adding up.

He shrugged as casually as he could and said: “Yeah, I tried a new roastery and it’s disappointing. Lets get you out of here, shall we?”

Chiara wanted to fight him, to stubbornly stay and prove him that she was more than capable of working, but she had to admit that she’s probably never felt as exhausted. And the vision of their king-sized bed was way too tempting.

Relucantly, she nodded and followed Ethan into an empty patient room to get her blood taken.

˜

To say that Ethan was nervous would be an understatement. He could’ve gone home a long time ago and instead he found himself pacing back and forth in his office, waiting for a nurse to page him that Chiara’s results were ready.

Still, when his pager went off, he all but jumped on the spot.

Seven minutes later, Ethan thanked the nurse and clutched the results in his hand, fighting the urge to read them right then and there, not quite believing his own self to be able to not to break down is the results confirmed the diagnosis he suspected.

Breathing heavily as he reached his office, he sat down on the couch – the very same Chiara was sleeping on just hours ago – and with trembling hands opened the file to see the results.

His eyes widened and just then, his vision turned blurry. New lump formed in his throat and his heart kept beating as if his dear life depended on the rate it was beating. His hands trembled so hard now that the file fell on the floor.

He was right.

Ethan could feel the tears damping his cheeks and falling on the fabric of his navy blue pants and he realized that he couldn’t care less about crying while at work.

Throwing his head back, he stared at the ceiling, letting the tears fall down freely, his heartbeat slowly calming back to normal.

He knew he needed to go home and share the results with Chiara. He just didn’t know how he should do such a thing.

˜

Chiara’s peaceful five-hours long nap has been interrupted by the sound of keys clinking in the door.

Stirring lazily in a blanket, she sat up and smiled softly as Ethan walked into the living room.

“You look exhausted. Hard day?” she asked, patting the seat next to her. “Come here.”

Ethan slumped down on the couch next to her and kissed her cheek instead of answering, his mind a battlefield of ideas on how to tell Chiara. As a doctor, he knew that he needed to be honest and straightforward. As a husband, he didn’t feel comfortable throwing such a bomb into her face as if she was simply a patient.

Noticing how lost in his head Ethan was, Chiara grew concerned.

“Did something happen, Ethan?”

He blurted his next words out before he gave any of his battling ideas a chance to win.

“I’ve got your test results.”

“Am I dying?” Chiara laughed, putting her hand on his bouncing knee to calm him down. After Ethan refused to look back at her, she sensed that something was indeed wrong. “Oh, I am dying, aren’t I?”

Chuckling, Ethan finally turned to look at her and kisser her temple. “You are not dying.”

“But?” Chiara raised her eyebrow while Ethan took the hand on his knee into his own, stroking Chiara’s knuckles softly with his thumb.

Taking a deep breath, he stuttered: “I… we… you are pregnant, Chiara.”

Chiara’s face grew paler than he’s ever seen it and there were big drops of cold sweat on her forehead. Ethan squeezed her hand to stop it from shaking, but with no success.

At last, Chiara let out a choked whisper.

“What kind of sick joke is this?”

For a second, Ethan almost felt offended by her accusation, as if she didn’t know him, as if she didn’t know that he would never joke about such a thing. Then, however, he recalled his own reaction when he found out just an hour and half before and could understand the Chiara’s one.

Instead of another word, Ethan reached down to grab his bag from the floor and pulled Chiara’s file out. Handing it to her, he made sure to point his finger at the row that indicated the elevated level of hCG in her blood.

Her eyes widened as she recognized what he was showing her and she gasped audibly, looking up at Ethan and down on her own file, back and forth until she found her lost voice.

“But… how? That’s impossible.”

“Nobody has ever said that it was impossible, only that your chances were extremely low, close to none.”

Chiara started to reminisce the last days, trying to connect the dots now that she knew the result.

The extreme fatigue, waves of nausea here and there, those could easily be read as literally anything else. She missed her period, but her cycle has never been regular, so she hardly considered it anyhow important, especially knowing that travelling has always made things even more irregular for her.

“Did you know?” she whispered as she turned to Ethan, who was staring at her intensively.

“I didn’t know. I became suspicious few days back, when you wouldn’t let me go anywhere near your chest,” he grinned. “Together with the exhaustion, the possibility of pregnancy found its way into my mind, but I didn’t even want to think about it, knowing how very unlikely it was. It was your disgust with the coffee today that made me almost sure that you were, in fact, pregnant.”

Chiara stared at the results again, not quite absorbing what they were saying. For almost six years, she believed she could never be pregnant.

“You need to see your gynecologist tomorrow, of course,” Ethan cut the silence again. “But as Dr. Ramsey, I can say for sure that you are pregnant.”

He scooped her into his arms so that she would sit on his lap and hugged her shocked form tightly. Chiara’s lips were still slightly parted and she was blinking just a little bit faster than usually as his words – and their new reality – sank in.

When it finally did, she wasn’t able to contain the emotions any longer.

First sob escaped her mouth, followed by another and so much more, accompanied by huge tears falling from her eyes.

Ethan gently pulled her head closer so that she was resting it against his chest and peppered her hair with soft kisses. Even though his share of tears has already been shed in a privacy of his office, feeling Chiara’s shaking body as she cried all those happy, surprised tears, he couldn’t help but cry along quietly with her.

“I am going to ruin your shirt,” Chiara mumbled against his white Oxford, noticing how her mascara stained it.

Ethan let out a quick laugh, his voice thick with emotions as he replied: “I couldn’t care less.”

After what could have been minutes or hours, they breaths steadied, however their positions haven’t changed at all.

They were both quiet for a long time and one could say that they were lost in their own thoughts when really, they were both lost in the very same thought.

Parents. They would become parents.

They talked about adoption on a regular basis at this point, both open to the idea that two or three years from now, they would go for it, that they would become parents to a kid that was left alone.

But those were talks about future. Hypothetical.

This was real. In less than a year, they would be parents to their very own newborn.

“Are you happy?” Chiara whispered, looking up at him with a gentle smile on her lips.

Ethan kissed her forehead before responding.

“I can’t imagine being happier.”

Biting her lower lip, Chiara asked again: “Are you also a little bit…scared? Because I am.”

Laughing loudly at the adorable confession, Ethan nodded: “God, I am terrified. Being a father, that brings so many possibilities to screw it up.”

Chiara cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a kiss, their first real, deep kiss that day and as his tender lips moved over hers, she knew that there would be no better father for her child than Ethan Ramsey.

˜

One of the perks of being in her sixth month of pregnancy was the fact that her belly could easily serve as a tiny tea table. Right now, a large bowl of popcorn was sitting on her rounded torso as she was sitting on Bryce’s couch.

“The poor kid,” Bryce muttered as he noticed.

It was another Bryce & Chiara movies Wednesday, a habit that started even before Chiara and Ethan got together and carried on through the years.

With her third trimester slowly approaching, Chiara has been even more insistent on attending those, knowing that once she would give birth, they wouldn’t be able to watch a whole movie in one sitting.

“How is Ramsey? I haven’t seen him in the hospital this week,” Bryce asked as he put a glass of water in front of Chiara and played with a remote control to find the movie on Netflix.

“He’s busy with paperwork, so he mostly stays in his office these days,” Chiara explained. “Other than that, he has read two books about child’s development this week, so I guess everything’s as usual.”

Bryce laughed loudly and just before he pushed the ‘play’ button, he turned to Chiara: “Do you remember when you told me about not being able to have kids all those years ago?”

Chiara nodded, that day somehow still fresh in her mind.

“I told you back then, that you only had to find someone whose sperms will be stubborn enough to beat your own stubborn immune system, remember? Well, I was damn right,” he grinned smugly, earning a popcorn thrown into his head from Chiara.

On the other side of Boston, Ethan and Naveen just finished their meals and moved into the living room, glasses of scotch in their hands.

A comfortable silence accompanied them, their talks about work already finished.

Taking a few gulps of his drink, Ethan leaned into a couch with a soft smile on his lips.

“It’s going to be a girl,” he let out finally, his soft smile soon turning into a wide, happy one.

They only found out yesterday. Ever since beginning of the pregnancy, they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to know the gender of the baby or not. After long discussions – and Sienna’s suggestion that they should do a blood tests that would reveal the gender, give the results to her without looking at them so that she could organize a baby gender reveal party – they came to the agreement that they would only find out if the ultrasound would show it. And yesterday, in Chiara’s 25th week of pregnancy, the doctor informed them that their ‘princess’ is growing beautifully.

Neither Chiara nor Ethan wanted any kind of baby party organized – much to Sienna’s disappointment. This pregnancy – most likely the only one they would ever get to experience – has been such precious, sacred thing to them that they tried to keep everything as private as possible. They found joy in their bubble of emotions only two people who never believed would be this lucky could feel.

“A girl!” Naveen clasped his hands together and beamed even brighter than Ethan. “A granddaughter!”

Ethan nodded, the warmth in his chest expanding even more at Naveen’s words.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” he asked, his curious nature not letting him keep the question to himself.

Shaking his head this time, Ethan said: “Since the beginning, we’ve known that if it was a boy, he would be named Dorian after Chiara’s father. There have been some ideas about girls name, but nothing seemed right so far.”

The first idea they both had was Dolores. It came naturally to Ethan, knowing that she named her son after him and that his friend’s name deserved to be celebrated. Still, he didn’t want to be reminded of the tragedy every time he would talk to his daughter. Chiara has been very supportive about the name Dolores, knowing better than anyone what it felt like to want to name her child after someone important to her. But she never insisted. She could tell that simply thinking about Dolores Hudson made Ethan’s heart ache and she would never push the name on him.

“You seem lost in your thoughts,” Naveen commented. “Are you worried that your daughter will inherit your insufferable stubbornness?”

Ethan laughed at that, raising an eyebrow at his mentor and his friend.

“As if you didn’t know Chiara. The kid is going to be insufferably stubborn no matter who she takes after.”

The truth was, he did wish their daughter would take after Chiara. The idea of raising his own little self terrified him more than he would ever admit and on the other hand, the idea of having someone else as bright as Chiara in his life made his heart happy.

“Well, no matter who she takes after, it’s safe to say that she will be a strong girl,” Naveen smiled, raising his glass. “Beating all those odds and finding her way into your life, she is already a bigger rebel than any of us. She will be a warrior and a mighty one, I am telling you.”

˜

When Chiara returned home, she found Ethan deep in a research on his laptop.

He registered her presence only when she sat down next to him, taking a glance on the screen only to find yet another study about children.

“Hey,” he kissed her cheek and closed the laptop. “Did you have a good time?”

She laid down, putting her head into his lap. “The movie was terrible. I could feel my braincells leave my body. Other than that, yeah, it’s been great. Bryce is so excited about being an uncle to the ‘little queenie’. He said, to quote him, that he will make sure she sees him as an example of how gentlemen should treat their ladies, so that when she is dating she doesn’t settle for anything less than what she deserves.”

“That’s really… nice of him. Thoughtful,” Ethan nodded; however, his furrowed brows didn’t quite match the words. “I don’t think we need to talk about dating just yet, though.”

Of course he will be that kind of a father, Chiara thought, laughing.

“What were you reading about?” she decided to change the topic.

“Oh, I’ve been looking up baby carriers online and so I decided  to read some articles and studies about them.”

“Baby carriers, huh? I never took you for someone who would want that.”

Ethan shrugged, fighting the temptation to read her all those articles. Instead, he went with simply pointing some interesting information.

“It helps to build a healthy attachment between a child and their parent. You know, you are carrying her in your body for nine months, you have a possibility of breastfeeding, you two are naturally connected. As a father, I would like to… increase my chances of bonding with my child properly,” he swallowed harder that he wanted, hoping that Chiara didn’t notice just how nervous about this whole attachment thing he’s become.

He was so excited to meet their daughter, to hold her in his arms, it sometimes surprised even him.

But there was another part of him. The one that constantly doubted his ability to be a good father. For such a long time he didn’t believe that he could ever find himself in the role of a parent and he got used to the idea, no matter how painful. He used to remind himself that it would be for the best if he never had them, that as a man unworthy of his mother’s love, he wouldn’t know how to be the parent his children deserved.

Everything has changed with Chiara in his life and now he was about to become a father. And he was scared that it would be the one task he would fail. He tried his best to be prepared – reading books and studies and articles, watching videos on how to bath a newborn and taking notes about how many layers of clothing was suitable for various temperatures. He made arrangements with Naveen and his team so that everyone knew that he would be stepping down as a head of diagnostics once the baby is born, with Aurora becoming the director of the team.

For more than fifteen years, he’s been building his career and he’s been proud of what he achieved. But there was no feeling connected with his career that would make him as proud as the idea of being a decent father.

“According to these studies, the position they are in while in a carrier helps the newborns with their colics and also there are children that don’t like being in a stroller and the carrier helps them to fall asleep.”

Chiara nodded, noticing absolutely clearly how nervous and overwhelmed Ethan was. She also knew why, even though he would never share his concerns with her.

“I kind of believe that. When I was born, I was the perfect baby. You know, the kid that everyone envied when my parents talked about me. I slept most of the day and then the whole night, I never cried, I smiled at everyone. My parents would joke that sometimes they forgot they had me. And Liam was very similar from what I can remember – and what my mother told me. He was such a cutie and even if he couldn’t fall asleep or calm down, a little bit of bouncing in a stroller and he would be fine,” she laughed softly as she was reaching the end – and the point – of her monologue. “My parents were so proud. They always said that they could only create the good sleepers that never cry. Probably encouraged by the belief, they decided to have a third child and God, Alicia was such a difficult baby. She would always cry and never sleep. The only thing that calmed her down enough to sleep was when someone carried her in their arms and walked around the house – so that’s what my parents did. All the time. Sometimes, when they’ve gotten too tired or needed to do something, they would put her into my arms – let me remind you that I was seven – and I would be in charge of walking around the house. I bet they would appreciate the baby carrier back then.”

Ethan chuckled softly while stroking Chiara’s wild hair and after a while decided to tell her the real reason he even browsed the internet this evening.

“I might have found a name.”

After Naveen left, something he’s said resonated with Ethan.

‘She will be a warrior and a mighty one.’

Ethan never cared about meanings of names, he didn’t even know the meaning of his own name until this evening. And yet, despite his best principles, he decided to search girls names that meant warrior or ‘strong, mighty’.

And he found it.

Mighty in battle.

It clicked.

“What name do you have in mind?” Chiara asked.

“Matilda.”

Chiara didn’t even try to suppress her surprise, expecting anything but Matilda. What surprised her even more, she loved it on the first hearing. It indeed was the one.

“I have also thought about the name a little bit,” she admitted. “I found one that I would love to be a second name for her.”

Nodding, Ethan encouraged her to spill it.

“Nekane.”

“Nekane? I have never heard of it.”

“It would be surprising if you did,” Chiara smirked. “It’s the Basque form for Dolores. And you know, since now we know for sure that our daughter has been conceived in Spain, I think it would be rather fitting. It would still carry the honor of Dolores, just in a different form.”

Matilda Nekane Ramsey.

They both loved the sound of that.

It sounded like their daughter.

After sharing another silent moment full of love, peace and understanding, Chiara decided to go to bed and Ethan promised to follow her as soon as he’d finish the study.

 When Ethan stepped into their bedroom, Chiara was already asleep, lying on her right side. Climbing to the bed, he laid down on his left side so that he could face her. Suddenly, not knowing how the idea has gotten into him, he was shifting down slightly until he reached her round stomach.

Moving the fabric of her cotton shirt higher, he put his hand over her belly and did something he had never done before.

“Hello, Matilda,” he whispered nervously. “This is Ethan speaking. Your father. Or your dad, as you will probably call me. We have never really talked before but the annoying knocking you hear sometimes, that’s me stroking your mom’s bump.”

He paused for a while, composing his thoughts.

“I am sincerely scared about how this whole father thing is going to work for me, but I promise you as I am trying and I will by trying for the rest of my life. I have done a lot of bad things in my life, Matilda and I can’t take them back. They are part of who I am. But looking at your mother and thinking about you makes me realize that both of you are part of who I am too. And I don’t know in which point of my life the universe decided that I have shared enough kindness to earn your presence but I must have done something right to deserve you in my life, right?”

Kissing the skin of Chiara’s stomach, he added: “I just really hope you inherit your mother’s patience and kindness so that you will forgive me every time I fuck things up.”

Biting his lip, he grinned to himself before saying one last thing to his Matilda.

“Please don’t tell your mom I said ‘fuck’, she would be furious.”

 *** *** ***

1) as someone who is mother herself, I realize that topics of pregnancy, infertility issues, children in general are extremely sensitive - in this particular fanfiction, Chiara has gotten pregnant against the odds while on vacation. PLEASE note that I, by no means, am trying to say that if you are suffering from fertility issues, taking a vacation/reducing stress/changing the environment would definitely help you. There are some cases /that I know of/ in which it did help, however I would never dare to say that it’s the solution. I just need to make sure that I acknowledge how difficult and sensitive the topic is.

2) I really, really wanted to write a pregnancy fic, I had this idea in my head for very, very long time. However, I also absolutely love the idea of Ethan and Chiara adopting a child (I think especially Ethan would be fond of it, since he knows what it feels like to grow up without a parent) and so here is a little HC for after this story - Matilda is indeed the ‘miracle’ and their only biological child and when she is around six years old, Ethan and Chiara decide to adopt ophraned twin girls Luna and Siria. Purposefully girls, because I can see Ethan not trusting women after his mother leaves him and feeling like no woman could ever love him truly and boom suddenly there are four women in his life that love him more than life itself and he is proven wrong every day.

3) the story about the name Matilda is so funny/tragic that I have to write about it - I love the name, always loved and believed that I would name my daughter Matilda one day. My man hates the name so it’s off the table and I always knew that little Ramsey would be named Matilda to pursue my dream at least fictionally. When I was looking for some photos at David Gandy’s IG, I found out that his very own daughter is named Matilda. Whoa. Then, I was on a search for a faceclaim for Chiara and boom - the girl is named Matilda. Ooops. And only when this fic was finished and I googled the name Matilda for some reason, I found out that there is kinda popular person named Matilda Ramsay and I was just like okay screw this. But I couldn’t bring myself to change the name, so here it is. Sorry not sorry.

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