#The walls shake when Medic sneezes.

[fexjam]

НАМАЛЮЙ ЧХАЄ МЕДИКА!! щоб його життя малиною не здавалася >:)) (яка я добра...🥰)

Туди його!

Хедканоню шо Медик пиздець як голосно чхає

Дякую за реквест!

[aussiepineapple1st]

Could I please have Leon falling asleep on watch duty and feeling so guilty because Reader was sound asleep trusting that he’d stay awake during his shift? Do you think reader would be considerate or lash out on him? I personally want angst, what do ya think?

I think it depends on the person but I went with what I personally would do if I was Reader.

Night Watch

Leon x GN!Reader

Words: 2,186 Contains: Blood, Injury, Angst, Death?

"Here should be good." Leon says Panting heavily as he makes sure you were still following. He reaches his bloodied hand out for you to take.

You were both extremely injured, Leon being Leon had leaped between you and an oncoming attack from a Licker. You had tried to patch him up the best you could, but he was still losing blood. Despite all of this, Leon was still very much on the move and making sure you both got to safety. Grabbing Leon's hand you pull yourself up into a small clearing. You were both in a forest surrounding a hidden facility in Pennsylvania, you were both sent to check out from rumours of BOW's being created for a planned Bioterrorist Attack. A shallow cave was etched away in the side of the sharp hill, bushes and thickly covered trees keep the area secure and out of sight.

"This should do the trick. I need to patch you up properly." You say to Leon as he stands beside you. His right side covered in his own fresh blood. Gently placing a hand on Leon's lower back he automatically lifts his left arm to rest it over your shoulder. Leading him towards the cave you help lay him against part of the wall that sloped upwards. Making sure he was comfortable you take out your torch and shine it up, illuminating the ceiling to have more coverage.

Unclipping the medical pouch you had on the back of your belt, you pull out bandages, gauze, and a needle and surgical thread. Pulling up Leon's shirt you cut the old bandage around him. Leon flinched at the feeling of you touching him. "Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you." You apologise, continuing to remove the bandage slowly. Leon shakes his head, face almost in a constant squint. "It wasn't that.." "Then why did you flinch?"

"Your hands are cold.."

"Really? You're bleeding out and the thing that makes you flinch is my hands?" Leon just opens his eyes as he rests his head back on the slope of rock he lay on, cheeky smirk on his face. It was short lived though as he scrunched up his face, clenching his teeth and rolling his head slightly away from you. Seeing the pain in his face and the tremble he would do when you would touch around his wound made your chest hurt, you hated seeing Leon hurt. "Easy does it.." You say gently as you see the two gashes in his side.

The one over his ribs wasn't very deep, that one just needed to be sewn up, the one above his waist was deep. You hade stuffed the wound with a bandage to try and stem the bleeding as best you could. "Okay I'm going to pull the bandage out now.." You reach down and remove the leather belt around your waist to place in Leons mouth.

He bites down getting ready, you wait until he gives you a thumbs up before starting to pull it out. Trying to be careful and not do any more damage. As you start to pull Leon's right hand grips your left shoulder. You could tell it was just instinct, his body wanted to get away from whatever was hurting him. His arm pushing you but his hand still holding onto you so you wouldn't be pushed back completely. You needed to help him.

After pulling the bandage out you take a look inside. You can't see any muscle so he was safe there. You reach down to grab a bottle of medical alcohol and open it, the smell makes your nose tickle, almost making you sneeze.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch." You warn and then pour it out over both both wounds. Leon shouts through his teeth, banging his left hand in a fist on the ground beside him.

"I know.. You're doing good." You praise.

Grabbing the needle and surgical thread you start to combine the two. He was still holding your shoulder, panting heavily as he was taking a break from the sharp pain, only feeling a painful throbbing right now.

"Alright.. Just a prick and pulling.. I'll try and be quick." You say making sure he was ready, again. This time he just nods his head and tightens the grip on your shoulder premptively.

You go as fast and as neatly as possible, stitching him up and holding him down by his chest so you would stop pulling down. You give him a small break, but you did the big one first to get the most pain over and done with. Starting to stitch it up, Leon found it less painful seeing as he had just been in more pain with the first one.

Once he was stitched up, you tape some gauze over the wounds and the wrap a bandage around his abdomen. "There.." You say looking out the small cave you were in. "It's starting to get dark. You rest while I collect wood for a fire and maybe catch a rabbit or something."

There was a small nod and "Mmhm" from Leon as he tried to get comfortable, staying on his back, only turning his head and fixing his leg's position. You make sure he's settles before pulling out a slingshot from one of the pockets on your leg. You never know when you might need it so you trained yourself to use one and got really good with it.

Going out you start to pick up the sticks, staying close to Leon so he is safe protected while he sleeps. You manage to catch 1 rabbit, that's all you needed for the two of you. Making your way back you drop the rabbit off first and then collect the sticks for the fire. Leon was still fast asleep, though it was strange because you had never heard him snore. You hat witness him snore once and wake himself up but that was when he napped.

You could also tell he was extremely tired. You knew because he normally slept with his mouth closed, but his mouth was slightly hung open, bottom lip leaving a gap between it and the end of his top teeth.

You smile and start to skin the rabbit. Walking over to the small amount of water streaming down beside the entrance of the cave. You wash the rabbit then start to make a little stand with sticks to hold the rabbit over the fire.

Leon wakes up just at the rabbit was ready, outside was pitch black and the light from the fire illuminating your face and body. He would just watch you for a little bit before you notice his eyes were open. "Hello sleepy head. Have a good rest?" You smile at him as you pull off some of the rabbit meat and eat it.

"Hey.. How long have I been out?"

"About an hour." You say as you move to sit next to him, pulling off pieces of the meat and handing it to him

"Alright.. I'll take watch tonight."

"What? Leon you're injured your body needs the rest more than I do." You disagree.

Leon thought for a moment. "I just slept, I feel more away than you look right now. Besides you took last night's watch so you haven't slept in a long while." He argues the point, though the tone you both had was as if you were just talking casually. No agression.

"Fine.. If you say so." There wasn't really much point in fighting with Leon. You were super tired and he had more rest in him. "Good." He says trying to sit up, he was very stiff and sore. You help him rest against the wall of the cave and continue to pull meat from the rabbit and hand it to him.

After you ate you add more sticks to the fire, just to keep it going a little longer. You then curl up on the ground beside the fire to keep warm, looking over to Leon as your eyes became too heavy to stay open and they closed. Instantly falling asleep.

Leon watched for a good 3 hours but his body was fighting with him. He was doing his best to keep his eyes open, but with the amount of blood he had lost he was weak. He tried to call your name but he was too tired to even open his mouth. His head finally slumps forwards and passes out. After a good 3 more hours you wake up, seeing the early morning sun illuminate the area. Stretching you sit up. "Morning.." You say in a yawn. When you got no response you look over to Leon. He was leaning against the wall, head slumped forwards. You frown, how long had he been asleep? He was supposed to be on watch.

"Hey! Leon.. Wake up, you're supposed to be on watch or at least wake me if you were getting tired. I could have... Leon?" You pause in your frustrated rant. Leon hadn't budge. Normally he would have jumped awake at the slightest noise.

You try clapping your hands. Nothing. "Hey, Leon.. This isn't a funny joke." You crawl over to be beside him, looking over his figure, not even a snore at that awkward angle of his neck. "Leon?" You place your hand on his shoulder and gently shake him.

His hand falls off his lap as you shake him. "Leon, wake up!!" You reach up and move his fringe, tucking some of it behind his ear to be able to see his face. Still closed. You press your ear to his chest and listen. Still breathing and a heart beat. Your heart was racing, starting to come down as you had feared the worst. Taking Leon's face in your hands you turn his head to face you, your hand gently slapping his cheek. "Leon!" You call his name again.

His brows were the first to move, then his eyes open slowly, looking into yours. "What's wrong?" He asks tiredly. Then it hits him. "Oh SHIT!"

"Yeah.. Oh shit indeed!" Your tone sounded like you were pissed, but only a slight frown was on your face.

"I'm sorry, I was awake, then suddenly you were waking me up." He explained. You couldn't blame him, he had lost a lot of blood.

"You should have woken me up if you were getting tired." You say as you lift up his right arm to pull up his shirt and see how the wound was going. The Bandage was slightly bloody, but not drenched as if he was still bleeding out. "I need to change the gauze before it scabs onto it." You explain starting to undo the bandage around his abdomen. Leon was quiet, he could tell you are angry at him, he was kicking himself for falling asleep as well. He just wanted you to get some rest, he thought he could stay awake, but he was wrong and put you both in danger. "I'm sorry." He apologised eventually. You shake your head. "You lost a lot of blood, so naturally your body wants to heal, I wouldn't have mind if you just woke me to take over, but you put both of us in danger." "I know.." He looked away from you feeling ashamed. You start to get him patched up, not a word was said between you the whole time you change the gauze, seeing he wasn't bleeding anymore. You throw all the mess in the fire smouldering and turn to Leon, his head still turned away from you, his fringe blocking your view of his face. "Could you look at me?" You asked in a soft tone, waiting for him to look at you when he was ready. He turns to you, his eyes looked like he could pass out again at any moment. You reach out and place a hand on his cheek. "I'm angry, yes. But you need to listen to your body. You're just too stubborn to want to admit you need help. I'm here for you. That's why we are partners, we have to have each others backs." Leon nods and sighs heavily. "Maybe I need to rest more before we keep moving."

You nod and move to be on the flat ground rather than the slope, sitting next to the warm coals. You pat your hand on your lap. Leon looks to you with a questioning look. "Lay your head on my lap. That way the warmth from the coals will help ease the pain so you can sleep better." Leon sighs and slides over to you, lying down and placing his head on your lap. You smile and start to run your fingers through his hair to help calm him. "Sleep as long as you need. We don't have to rush. I promise to wake you if anything happens." Leon nods and almost instantly falls asleep. Your smile widens and you keep the fire at a low temperature for Leon's side, keeping an eye out for any danger.

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[abugwritesstuff]

The Princes React to MC Being Sick: Toa

i headcanon that toa has an anxiety problem so that's where this story kinda goes lol. as before: in honor of being sick, here's a toa fic about caring for the mc if she's ill.

-----

“Sherry Invidia.”

“Here!” “Rio Voleri.”

“I’m here!”

“Aquia Avari.”

“H-here, sir!”

“MC.”

Toa looked up from his attendance sheet after a beat of silence, scanning the room for his seemingly silent paramour. Usually before one of his classes they’d meet and she’d come to assist in the setup, but she’d been absent- no matter, he’d thought. Perhaps she was otherwise occupied in her studies. Perhaps she’d been accosted by one of her friends and would come in with the crowd of other students. But as Toa had become engrossed in his preparations, he’d hardly looked up until that moment and was startled to find no evidence of her anywhere.

“Hmm. Absent,” he muttered, crossing an X in the box beside her name. He gave a questioning look to the Voleri-Invidia pair who sat in the usual spots. When she wasn’t with him, she was often with them- but they shook their heads. 

“I haven’t seen her all day,” Rio volunteered. 

“She retired early last night after we had tea together, but I haven’t seen her since then. I thought she was with you.” Sherry said, her face drawn into an expression of concern.

Toa shook his head, dispelling the incoming tide of anxious thoughts. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. Let’s begin with today’s lesson.”

But even as the lesson progressed, Toa’s anxiety built. He instructed students on their activities in a well-hidden fog, fidgeting with his hands slightly and glancing at the clock on the wall. Time had never moved so slowly. Different scenarios played through his mind. Had his sister sent some minion of his after her? Had Avari captured her somewhere? What if she’d snuck off into town on some flight of fancy and met trouble there? Wouldn’t her little cat have sent word? Perhaps he should have insisted on her staying in his chambers.

The bell rang.

Toa jumped, startled out of his thoughts. Shaking his head, he dismissed the students and quickly reset the room as they poured out, sending vials and bottles rattling back to their places on the shelves and quickly stacking assignments into their spots. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and shoved in his personal effects.

“Uh, Toa?”

He turned to find Knight peering up at him, looking concerned. “You seem off.”

Toa pressed a hand to his chest to find that his heart was beating at an uncomfortably rapid staccato. He let out a breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “...Perhaps. I am going to go verify MC’s wellbeing, if you don’t mind cleaning the rest of this up on your own.”

Knight nodded. “Of course.”

The walk (or was it a run, almost?) to her chambers was something he would struggle to recall later. One moment he was leaving the classroom and the next he was at her door, knocking rapidly and wringing his hands anxiously. “It’s me.”

After a few moments the door opened and Toa came face to face with her little winged cat, hovering at face level with a worried expression. “Prince Toa! I’m glad you’re here! Milady is bedridden with some sort of illness!” he mewed.

Toa brushed past the cat to find his paramour curled in bed, hair swept off her face in a messy bun and face flushed a vibrant pink. Tendrils of her hair clung to her skin and her comforter was pulled up all the way underneath her chin. Her eyes seemed misty and she sneezed into her arm as he came near and pulled a chair to sit by her side. He pressed a hand to her forehead and winced at the heat emanating off her.

“You’re unwell.”

She drew in a rattling breath and coughed a bit. “...Yeah,” she croaked. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to class today.”

Toa shrugged off his jacket and laid it at the end of the bed, rolling up his sleeves. “Don’t apologize,” he murmured. He turned to the cat and tilted his head to the door. “Go tell Knight to bring my medical bag from the infirmary. And to rearrange my schedule for the day.” At this, the cat nodded enthusiastically and sped from the room. Toa laid his hand to his chest again, sucking in a breath. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I do have to,” Toa interrupted. “First of all, I am in charge of the infirmary most days, so caring for you is in my purview and my duty. Secondly,” and at this, he leaned in close and pressed a shaky kiss to her brow, holding her cheeks gingerly in his palms. “...I am your paramour. I would hardly be worthy of that title if I abandoned you when you fell ill.” He straightened up and studied her face, willing away any signs of protest. “Now, tell me about how you are feeling? Did anything preclude this? Did you consume anything strange? When did your symptoms begin?”

She was silent for a long few seconds, wracking her fuzzy mind for details. “I didn’t eat anything strange. I started feeling off last night- no, in the afternoon. I felt so tired. And cold. I took a bath early last night and went to bed because my throat was hurting and my body felt achy and I couldn’t get myself warm.”

“You should have sent word for me. I could have helped then.”

“Yeah, but… you had paperwork last night.”

Toa sighed. “I’ll always have paperwork. And it can always be done later. You matter more to me than work.” He took her hand into his and brushed his thumb across her knuckles absently, feeling the tension beginning to loosen around his shoulders. “I’d thought perhaps something awful had happened to you when you didn’t come to class.”

She frowned. “You were worried about me?”

He smiled awkwardly. “I always am.”

At that moment, Knight and the cat burst in, the valet nearly breathless and immediately thrusting out Toa’s bag. “‘Ere you are, Toa,” Knight gasped out, crouching over with hands to knees for a moment. “I came as quick as I could. How is she faring? Shall I go get anything else?”

Toa pulled vials and bottles and salves out of his bag, lining them up on the bedside table. “It’s a viral illness,” he replied, to which Knight slumped in relief. “But if you could bring tea and soup from the kitchens- I doubt she’s eaten today.”

Knight bowed. “On it. I will be back. Kitten, assist me.”

“A-Ah, yes Master Knight!” 

The pair ran from the room and Toa continued to assemble a medication, mixing together liquids and powders and imbuing them with magic slowly. “I saw you frown when I mentioned eating. You lack an appetite, then?” he asked, not looking up from his work. 

She pursed her lips. “...Yeah. Nothing sounds good. I’d rather not…” she mumbled.

“You have to,” Toa replied curtly, pouring one last vial into the mixture and shaking it in slow, fluid motions. “You won’t recover if you don’t fuel yourself properly. Here.” He turned with the bottle in hand and poured a small amount into a cup, offering it to her. “Drink this.”

Slowly she sat up- Toa magically propped up her pillows as she did -and she took the glass, downing it and then sputtering into a cough. “Uck! That tastes awful.”

Toa took the glass back and chuckled a bit. “I should imagine so, yes. But it’s effective.” With that, he went to the fire and sparked the remaining wood logs into a roaring fire, sending the room into a warm glow. The room was by no means actually cold but he’d seen the fine hairs on her arms standing up and realized she was still extremely cold, despite the feverish sweat gathered on her forehead. He smiled to himself, watching her sigh in relief as the room became warmer.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I appreciate this.”

Toa sat back down at her side, once again taking her hands into his and kissing them. “Always.”

She tugged on him slightly, moving back slowly and then patting the open space beside her. “You don’t have to sit there. Come in here with me,” she whispered. Her eyes were half-lidded and almost closed, nearly delirious with exhaustion. 

Toa allowed himself to be slowly pulled into the bed until both of them were snug beneath the covers and she was sidled up next to him, her head resting on his chest, her arm across his chest and her leg thrown over his. He stroked a hand through the free tendrils of her hair and listened to the shaky, weak pattern of her breathing. Already her coloring was looking better, despite the severity of her illness- something that relieved him enough to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“Promise me something,” he whispered to her, tucking her in closer.

“Mmmhm?”

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “In the future… Always tell me when you need my help. Please. For my sake. I need… I need to know you’re safe and well.”

“...Okay. I promise.”

He listened as she fell asleep against him. Outside, the sound of rain was pattering in increasing intensity against the window. In combination with the roaring fire, Toa found himself becoming drowsy as well and waved a hand to extinguish the lit candles lining the room until the room was enmeshed in darkness. The heat and weight of her body against him felt like a precious, fragile thing and Toa swallowed the growing lump in his throat. 

“She’s fine… she’s perfectly fine…” he whispered to himself. He tilted his head to stare down at her- her long lashes and pink lips, her flushed cheeks and the shape of her nose. Every bit of her was completely and utterly perfect. The thought of her suffering or worse made him shudder. He squeezed her in closer and closed his eyes again, vowing to always protect her and keep her well as the sound of the rain lulled him to sleep alongside her.

[waterfallofspace]

A Continuation

Part two of ~this story~ I posted before. I just couldn’t leave it on angst, without any comfort?? Soooo~ this was born. There’s still a touch of angst/worry, but I promise it’s mostly comfort this time! <;3 (You shouldn’t have to read the first to understand it, but it will provide a bit of context for some things!)  As always, thank you to anyone who bothers to read this, and I hope you enjoy!! (also for anyone who’s sent requests, dw I am ABOSLUTELY working on those, and thank you DEEPLY for sending them, I’m having a blast writing so much <3) [ Merde = Shit ] [ À tes souhaits = Bless you ] - French Things Characters: C/huuya, D/azai, and a bunch of chemistry.  Word Count: 2.1k (References to mild violence, high fevers, and swearing, just in case anyone doesn’t like any of those!) 

~~~~~~~ The rain beats down against the awning as Dazai manages to pull Chuuya’s drenched form into the lobby, cursing lightly under his breath. This is quite the feat considering how soaked he also is, each step seeming to create a new puddle. 

“heh’AIYshhh’AA-!”

And then there’s that. Every sneeze seems to shake Chuuya to the core, leaving Dazai with the job of studying him before he tips them both over. ‘He lives on the third floor- we’re gonna have to take the elevator. I simply don’t have the strength to carry him up three flights of stairs if he can’t do it alone.’ 

“We’re gonna get in the elevator, alright?”

There’s no response, but Dazai didn’t expect one. The fever alone would be enough to make anyone disoriented, but the medication kicking in, mixed with him being chilled to the bone, has left Chuuya with almost no cognizance.

“I’m hitting the button for floor three, we’re almost back. Just hold out a little longer, okay?”

Normally this soft tone would be reserved for manipulation, used only to set someone off guard. Dazai isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, and he’s especially not the type to let genuine concern show unless it directly benefits his plan. 

‘And yet… No matter. He’s way too out of it to be able to remember anything I’ve said once the fever breaks. So… just for now…’ Dazai allows, a hand lightly brushing the hair from Chuuya’s face, wincing yet again at the warmth that meets him. 

“eH’KAZZshhh’AA-!

“À tes souhaits, Chuuya.”

“Merci..”

It’s hoarse, and leaves him coughing, but it’s a response. A sigh breaks free from Dazai’s clenched teeth, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Chuuya is still able to, at least to some degree, process what he’s saying. ‘Also note to self, when delirious from fever or distracted, Chuuya will respond to French in kind. That could be quite entertaining one of these days.’

“hAH’KETchhh’AA-!” 

“Almost there, do you have your key on you?” 

All he gets in response is a hazy look, Chuuya’s nose scrunching as he lets out a faint gasp. Chuckling lightly, Dazai leans him against the wall, pulling out a bobby pin.

“I’ll take that as permission to pick the lock. Bless you, by the way.” 

“AIIESHH’AA-! hehHh- huh’KETCH’aa-!”

Chuuya managed to bring his gloves up in time, but Dazai notices the way the wet fabric serves only to irritate his nose further. ‘Better get him out of those clothes fast. He’s sick enough as it is, don’t need this developing into pneumonia… again… that was a rough week.’ With that, Dazai hears a click, and swings open the apartment door, practically shoving Chuuya inside.

“Now then! I am drenched, and so are you, so I’d really like to change. I know where your clothes are, but any specific preference for what I dress myself in? I’ll admit, I don’t share your taste for designer brands, so… you got any sweats laying around here?” 

“Bedroom..? ehH’gnSHHH’aa-!”

It’s a question, not an answer, but Dazai rolls with it, tossing a blessing over his shoulder as he turns away. Strolling past the bathroom, he ducks in and grabs a couple towels. Once in the bedroom, he searches Chuuya’s closet until he finds a suitable hoodie and some pants, grabbing the same for the ill man still standing in the hallway, shivering.

“Dry yourself off with the towel then put these on. I’d suggest a shower, but I don’t think the medication has taken hold enough to guarantee you won’t pass out. As much as I’d love to see Chuuya naked, picking him up off the floor isn’t exactly what I have in mind.” 

Chuuya manages to glare at him through the haze, but he takes the pile and sloshes off to the bathroom. Dazai ducks back into the bedroom to change, sighing as the wet clothes leave his skin. A few faint sneezes echo from the bathroom, Dazai making a slight face at the quality of them. ‘They’re softer… growing tired, or something else..?’ 

He lets a smile slip out at the sensation of the soft hoodie against his skin, the smell soaked into it distinctly Chuuya. Hesitating for a minute as his fingers graze his soaked bandages, he risks a glance at the door. ‘I should really take them off… but I didn’t bring fresh ones with me…’ 

“Hey idiot, I’m coming in so you better be decent.” 

“Really, Chuuya? With all the crimes we’ve committed? I doubt we’ll ever be called anything near decent again.”

A sigh is the only response, along with a sound that might have been Chuuya punching the wall. He opens the door regardless, making a noise of relief upon seeing Dazai clothed. Dazai takes in the quality of his face. ‘Nose is still pink, and there’s a slight flush in his cheeks that I don’t think was just from my witty remarks, but his face has lost the pale tint. His voice sounds better too, still rough around the edges, but audible.’

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, slug? Shit- eH’HAIIYSHH’AA-! hh’kETSHHAA-!”

“À tes souhaits.”

“Shut up.” 

“And to answer your earlier question, what else should I be doing?”

Chuuya doesn’t respond, but Dazai can feel his gaze as it analyzes him. ‘Fair is fair, I suppose.’ Finally Chuuya seems to come to a conclusion, turning on his heel and rushing back into the kitchen. Dazai stands for a minute, curiosity filling his mind, but also certain there was no invitation to follow offered.

“Here.”

A roll of bandages hits Dazai’s chest, his hands just managing to catch them. Chuuya’s avoiding eye contact, but there’s a slightly darker pink tint adorning his ears.

“Figured you’d need them. Just- don’t go looking through my shit while you change.”

“Oh Chuuya! You know I can make no such promise! So… why don’t you keep an eye on me, make sure I’m minding my own business.” 

The invitation is clear, and Chuuya’s eyes flick down to the bandages lining Dazai’s arms, before giving a silent nod, and seating himself on the bed. A wave of nausea flashes through Dazai at the idea of changing them in front of someone, but a glance over to Chuuya’s soft expression is all it takes to fend it off. Neither says a word as he changes them, not even when he can’t reach his back and Chuuya’s hands slip against his to help.

“hAH’AIISHH’AA-!”

“À tes souhaits, Chuuya.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

Sufficiently bandaged up, Dazai saunters out of the bedroom, aiming for the couch in the living room and flicking on the tv. Chuuya stands in the middle of the floor, a slight tremble still gripping his weak form.

“Say what?”

“Y- you know what I’m talking about you jackass! Don’t make me say it…” 

“I think that’s exactly the point. You do say it. When you’re at ease, or flustered, frustrated, in practically any Chuuya mood, you slip into french.” 

The response is apparently sufficient, Chuuya offering a light huff, but not pressing the matter. Dazai continues searching the channels, stopping on some garbage home renovation show that neither of them could give a shit about. Without glancing at Chuuya, he pulls a blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over his legs, and silently opening one corner.

“It’s my damn couch.”

Is the growled response, but despite the tone, Chuuya slides under the blanket anyways, neither of them missing the shudder that runs through him at the newfound warmth. Dazai lets his eyes brush over Chuuya’s body, noticing the way he keeps a gap of air practically buzzing with anger between them. ‘Despite nullification or my predictions allowing me access past most barriers, this is one wall even I can’t scale.’ 

Turning his attention back to the show, Dazai catches Chuuya rubbing his throat again in his periphery. ‘I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. Must still be sore. I believe the medication has taken the fever down, and his voice sounds better, but it’s not a miracle drug, Chuuya’s still sick.’ Letting his eyes drift over once more, Dazai examines the gaze Chuuya’s aiming near the tv. While the fever delirium seems to be slipping, the medication does tend to cause drowsiness, and it seems Chuuya is not immune. 

“hAH’AISHH’AA-! knNGSHH’iuh-! Ow… heHh-! hh’AIZYSHH’AA-! Merde…” 

“I don’t know why you do that.” 

The genuine tone catches them both off guard, Chuuya’s eyes snapping to him, Dazai’s suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting.

“Do what? Sneeze? Maybe because I’m fucking sick?”

“No, not that, you just… you yell… while you’re sneezing. You didn't do it when you were alone earlier. It adds this harsh quality and… that’s just gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” 

Risking a glance, he’s met with Chuuya’s cloudy eyes, a warmth spreading deeper through the fevered man’s cheeks, leaping up to touch the tips of his ears. Turning his focus back on the tv to give him a touch of privacy, Dazai offers one last statement, flushing a touch at the genuine tone that he just can’t seem to shake.

“I’m just saying, it can’t feel good. And… it’s just me here. That’s all.”

“Yeah whatever, slug.”

Some host talking about drywall cuts through the silence that’s fallen, until Chuuya raises a hand to his face, breath catching in his throat. Dazai is careful not to stare, but his eyes do flicker over at the gentle nature of the fit.

“heHhH-! heH’ieshh’oo-! keschh’oo-!” 

“Bless you, Chuuya.” 

“hH’ESHchh’aa-! hePT’ING’shhoo-! eh’tischh’iuh-! heh’GNkt’shoo-!”

A gentle smile graces Dazai’s features for just a second, meeting Chuuya’s cautious gaze. The unasked question is clear, ‘Was that okay?’ In response, Dazai hums softly, letting a yawn escape with a stretch, before leaving his arm on top of the couch. He’s careful not to make contact with Chuuya, but it does leave an opening, of which they’re both deeply aware. 

‘It’s a bit like taming a wild animal. Chuuya’s cautious, ready to run or fight, expecting to get cornered at any second. You have to be slow, careful, give him space to make the move himself. Give him the security of being the one to choose it.’ 

Sure enough, as Dazai’s finishing up his analysis, he feels Chuuya’s head pressed into his lap, the smaller man curling into a fetal position under the blanket with a shiver. Careful to keep his face calm, Dazai lifts his hand, letting it rest gently on Chuuya’s head. A deep flinch speeds through the sick man at the contact, so Dazai lifts it once more.

“eH’Kngt’shiuh-! eishhh’oo-! heh’mmpshh’oo-!”

“À tes souhaits, once more.”

“Merci, Dazai…” 

Dazai’s eyes never leave the tv, though for the life of him, he couldn’t tell you what’s happening on it. All of his focus is in his arms, feeling the way Chuuya trembles against him with the small fit. Despite his best efforts, he casts a glance down to Chuuya as he feels skin touching his, Chuuya’s hand slowly bringing his own back down into his hair.

“Okay?” 

It’s barely a whisper, and hoarse enough to have Chuuya wincing as it passes his lips, but Dazai feels it pierce right through to his heart. He thinks about answering, but any noise he could make feels too intrusive, so instead he lets his fingers start massaging through the hair. Getting a faint sigh for his efforts, Dazai allows a smile to spill out over his face as Chuuya’s eyes slip closed with an airy hum, before a wrist is brought up to his twitching nose. 

“hePT’KNgieew-! eh’ieshh’oo-! keschhh’oo-!” 

“Bless you.”  

Letting his hands slide to Chuuya’s face, Dazai offers a gentle massage to his sinuses. The touch elicits a faint moan, Chuuya sniffling wetly immediately, the shifting congestion offering some relief from the headache he’s been fighting. Dazai feels his mind start to drift again. ‘This form of Chuuya… this is the real one. The soft one… the gentle one, the one that’s nervous all the time but relaxes at the touch of someone he trusts… no one else gets to see this Chuuya. This is my Chuuya.’ 

“D- Dazai… heH-!”

“Go ahead, it’s okay.” “N- nehHh-! No, t- tiiehhh… tissues!”

Dazai grabs a handful from beside the couch, starting to hand them over as Chuuya takes them greedily, burying his nose into the pile as the sneezes start flowing out. 

“hEH’IZDjshh’oo-! keZZYshh’oo-! eh’hDJYzshh’iuh-! eh’dTJZSH’yuu-!”

“Jeez, bless you Chuuya.”

“It’s your own damn fault, you… loosened it up..”

“I’m not judging. You heard me when I had the flu a couple months back..? Now that was disgusting.”

Chuuya cringes at the memory, lightly punching Dazai’s chest for the reminder. Dazai lets out a laugh in turn, letting his fingers rest on Chuuya’s cheeks again, a question raised. The nod he gets in response is his answer, and he continues his gentle ministrations. ‘Fever hasn’t broken yet, just the medication suppressing it, if he doesn’t get some sleep it’ll come back.’ 

“Rest now, Chuuya. I’ve got you.”

A hum comes from the sick man in his arms, his eyes still shut, sleep starting to seep into his voice as he attempts to respond, barely managing a few words before congested snores take over.

“I know you do… partner.”

[reinedeslys-central]

more for this nico-dealing-after-blood-of-olympus fic:

it's just like his brain is somehow - offline. Not willing to help him string up the words to this sentence that's sitting on his tongue. The disrespect.

He's still got to power through, though, and now he's just been standing here at the table for a good ten seconds without saying anything, gods, Will must feel so awkward trying to politely ignore Nico standing behind him. What to say, what to say, need to provide a functional human first(-ish) impression on the conversation -

Will bends his head further over the book he's reading, which seems to have a diagram on it. He shifts his neck to look at it from another angle, just enough for Nico to see the page's title: "Cross-sections of the Circulatory System".

Oh, so - a biology textbook. Cool, cool, that makes sense, since Will's the head camp medic, so maybe -

Before he can stop himself, he blurts out - "The, uh, the medulla oblongata controls parasympathetic ventilation, like, coughing and sneezing and stuff." Or - is that even correct? Damn, what if Will's going to make fun of him for getting it wrong, maybe he should try another one -

"..The pancreas secretes sodium bicarbonate, lipase, protease, and amylase into the small intestine to help with digestion." There, that works for a conversation starter. Will should definitely know about that since he lectured Nico about his starch intake last week in the infirmary.

("I don't care if they're all carbs, di Angelo, at this point you just need to eat, I don't give a pegasus' ass whether it's all carbs and fats -" - which, whatever. )

It takes him a moment to realise Will hasn't said anything back. In fact, he's barely even moved, only enough to squint at his textbook from a new angle. Clearly the most self-aware guy in the room, this guy.

He tries again. Can't have people calling him un-persistent, or whatever.

"So, the, lumen of the vein is larger than the artery, right? Since they have thinner walls?" Oh, curse me. His own insults to that zoom around his brain like a sledgehammer on nectar. And for all his embarrassment, what does he get? Nothing. Solace is still sitting, thumbing through the pages like he hasn't heard anything.

So much for Reyna making his promise to try having friends, and so much for Solace dumping out on him for pushing people away. If he's going to ignore him, and not even tell him why like - like someone who'd promised to be honest with him, then he can just catch up with his textbook in private and not have to deal with Nico's awkward conversation starters or help in the infirmary again.

Fuck it. He stomps away, shaking out his fringe and angrily pressing his thumb into the indent of his initials in his sword's hilt.

No need to let anyone think the Fates are playing favourites, because clearly Nico's in a league of his own with them. Even better, they must love him so much, because right at that moment, when he's suddenly, too irrationally angry to think about where he's going, he trips over a side table and goes careening headfirst into the shelf by the window.

Ah, merde.

"Hey, are you al- wait, Nico? What are you doing here, man? You okay?"

...And of course that's what finally makes Solace wake up from his biology-induced lotus casino haze.

As Solace bounds over, ostensibly to do his whole why-aren't-you-taking-care-of-yourself-better-nico-listen-to-me-I'm-a-doctor-so-I-know-best-and-you-don't routine, Nico resists the urge to melt into the wall, literally. Why did he tell Reyna he'd try making friends? Look where it gets him. Why, of all people, did he have to say he'd try hanging out with Solace of all people when Reyna demanded he give her some actual names to back up his promises?

- ..stupidi ragazzi carini con i loro stupidi sorrisi e le loro stupide lamentele e la loro mancanza di consapevolezza spaziale perché los tre Moirai sono così per me, mamma? perché, dei, perché....

Solace hauls him up halfway into his arms and starts asking him random questions, like:

"What's your name?" Rude, didn't he just call Nico from across the room?

"Okay, okay, cool, I deserved that one, can you tell me what day it is?" How is Nico supposed to answer that. He barely knows what day it is on a good day, he just follows camp schedule through osmosis most of the time, asking random campers what the strategies for the next capture the flag game are to get a gauge on how far away it is -

"Shit, c'mon man, help me out here, what were you looking for in the library anyway? I didn't know you were the reading type - " Which, again, rude? Does Nico not look like the reading type? Is it the black and silver? Does he not look smart enough or something? Hazel's a literal whiz, and Solace knows that, so it can't be a Hades thing.

"Come on, Nico, talk to me. You know why you came to the library, right? Can you at least tell me that?"

To talk to you, dumbass! Because you're ignoring me! Like I'm only worth your time when I'm a patient!

But it's not like he can just say that, because that would be weird. Joy of joys, Solace is getting even closer now, what the hell is going on?

"Uh - listen, don't freak out, maybe I'm freaking out, it's okay, stay calm, I'm calm, I literally do this every day, uh, can you just look straight at me, di Angelo? Need to get a good look at your eyes, figure out how bad we're dealin' here -" and he starts leaning in even closer what the literal fuck -

Is this Nico's punishment for insulting the Fates? Because, damn.

Also, because Nico's brain loves him, it abandons him once more in his time of need, forcing him to let out the weirdest squeak he's absolutely going to deny he ever made. He feels his cheeks warm, and jerks an inch away in a weird full-body shake like Frank sometimes does after returning to his human form.

Gods, what a nightmare. He lifts his hands up to cover his burning face and discreetly look for the nearest shadow when he notices Solace's ashen face, freezing.

Before he can get a real, human word out, Solace is suddenly stepping forward and cradling the back of Nico's head in a ridiculously warm hand while the other cards through his hair.

What the fuck. What the absolute fuck. He would say it feels like his soul is leaving his body if he didn't already know exactly how that felt. His eyes go wide as he wheezes, trying to stammer out a demand for Solace to fucking explain himself, taking liberties with his person -

Solace steps back, clearly confused. "No huge bumps, alright.. maybe shock?" His eyes widen again, as if he's just now noticing the state he's left Nico in.

"Shit, shit, it looks like shock, dilated pupils, difficulty breathing, hold on, di Angelo, let's get you to the infirmary - " Uh, absolutely not? 'Di Angelo' has had enough of the infirmary for a lifetime, grazie mille, Dr. Solace. There isn't even anything wrong with him this time! He's not the one asking weird questions and doing weird things this time.

Without any further thought, he turns around and starts fighting his way out of Solace's grip. If his favourite doctor's shocked cursing is anything to go by, it's the first time a patient's actively tried to escape his tender mercies.

Scratch that. Solace's arms tighten around his waist and the ensuing scuffle makes it clear this is not his first time. Shit, Nico might actually lose this one.

"Sunoffa- Nico! I'm trying to help, calm down!" Like hell you are, Solace. Let me the fuck go (so I can run away and wallow with the nymphs) and maybe then we'll talk.

He redoubles his efforts while pivoting to avoid the lamp on the table next to them.

"You fucking menace," Solace hisses, and if that hidden loss of cool makes Nico grin, well, what's a skull scarf for. Not every day you get to make Sir Doctor Extraordinaire stop being all sunshiney for a day.

Solace finally growls and stops fighting him. "Alright, you win! Hey, can't you stop aggravating your injuries for once?" Which. Wait, what injury? Nico's in perfect health!

"- and like, wartime's one thing, normal camp is another. Do you seriously not respect your body at all? Come on, you haven't even argued it! D'you seriously hate the infirmary that much? Are we a joke to you? You haven't even said anything since you hit your head and - " Nico lets the rest of Will's rant fly over him as he stills, and his mind goes, oh. Oh, this is hilarious. Okay, well, all he's gotta do to correct Will's little misconception is to say something then, right?

He opens up his mouth to cut Will off when he lands on his burning blue eyes and realises, belatedly, that Will's warm arms are still ever-so-gently and firmly cradling his waist, curling around the coarse fabric of his Camp Half-Blood tee.

As his brain goes offline for the the third and hopefully final time, Nico bemoans his existence and prepares himself to blurt out:

"The kidneys are where erythrocytes go to die."

Oh, Dei miei. That's not even right. "Well, no, I mean, the kidneys are where erythropoietin is produced, when the medulla oblongata detects a lack of oxygen in the body, which stimulates the growth of more red blood cells in the bone marrow..."

At least Will's shut up now, which is great. Nico can already feel the headache brewing from his ranting. Instead of backing off, however, Will absentmindedly adjusts his grip on Nico's waist and cocks his head to the side.

"...Did you come to the library to ask me to help you with your biology homework? Because, and I really mean no offense, buddy, but I kinda thought you were a year-round camper. Where'd you find the time to study AP Bio?"

Nico gives up and melts to the floor, ignoring Will's cries to groan and repeatedly thunk his head into the thankfully carpeted floor. This is how Nico dies. He prays for his father to open up the ground and bring him down to the palace for a visit. Will's still struggling to pull him up off the floor (if he's going to chase after him, he can deal with having to catch him, damnit), but only one thought is playing through Nico's mind.

Oh, I'm never going to live this one down, am I?

same fic different scene 0 - prologue-ish

[ronmanmob]

Beth and Ron <3

Ships In The Night Meme

Rate: NOTP | Ew | Nah | Alright | Cute | I LOVE them | They are perfect | OTP | THEY ARE MY BEAUTIFUL, SWEET CHILDREN AND I SHALL PROTECT THEM AS THEIR MOTHER

Who’s the big spoon and who’s the little spoon?

If Ronnie and Beth find themselves abed at the same time - which is an occasionally rare thing if the heat's sending Ron up the wall or either of their medication regimens is making sleep/general comfort impossible - and the mood's right for a snuggle, Ron's usually the one who tugs his slight and dusky counterpart into the curve of his body rather than Beth curling round him from behind. Rare's the day the reverse comes to pass. If it does, something's beyond off in Ron's world.

Adult!Verse heights

Ronnie's somewhere between 5'7 and 5'10 depending on how closely you'd like to imagine him resembling his real life counterpart (who was a stately 5'7.5 foot in his socks. Beth most often starts her day at 5'0 (5'1 if the day's beginning includes a dancing to the radio interlude and she ends up stood light as a bird on Ron's feet while they sway) and can end particularly tasking ones at 4'11 and a sneeze.

Who falls asleep while watching romcoms?

"Bold'a yah t'assume I sleep!" burbled Mr Sudden Laughter.

Who suggests watching romcoms?

See, without a nudge in their direction Ron isn't much of a romcom type of fella. He's more a historical drama or documentary sort. So the nudge may need to come from Beth, ever a particular title caught her fancy. He'd watch along contentedly though, and if he enjoyed the genre particularly there's nothing to say Ron wouldn't peruse the shelves of his preferred streaming service.

Who makes all the decisions?

"Neivah." There's a finality and a distaste in the word for the very notion that there might be some kind of imbalance of sway, will or power in his relationship with Beth. It leeches into the furrow of Ron's brow and the set of his shoulders. "Th'word's egalitarian. She 'n I, we's th'same. Ain't no imp'asition ov will or nuffin' like it. If th'decision's f'us as a couple, we decide t'gevah."

Who carries the other one to bed when they fell asleep on the couch?

Laughter's implication escapes through a huff. "She'd 'av a job 'eftin' us up on 'er shouldahs, bless 'er. If there's carryin' t'do, s'my arms, my back, my shouldahs tha' 'old 'er."

Who proposes?

"THAT" Ron said. "Would be absalutely tellin'..."

Will they have a big wedding?

A similarly secretive cast endures in Ron's expression, and he shakes his head mutedly once, twice...But then, the presence of his twin brother encroaching suddenly, the gears switch visibly. He enlivens, new energy in his hands, his expression, the rakish grin tugging his lips back off his teeth--

"M'a Kray, ain't I! We don't do fings li'le. It'd be St Pauls prob'ly. All'a East Lahndan invited, Reg as me best man...Yeah."

All that sounded like Hell, but facades were there for keeping.

"Yeah" Ron repeated, his hopes pinned on sounding like Reg thought he should. "--It could get massive."

Who accidentally eats all the popcorn while sharing a box?

@Beth

Who pays for dates?

"Once upon a time I would insist" Ron said. "Bu' since we settled in t'gevah we eivah split th'bill or take turns payin'. Neivah ov us struggles f'cash, so treatin' th'ovvah's more a gesture 'ov affection than anyfin-- Not tha' it weren't b'fore."

Who’s the most romantic?

Ron's head wobbles slightly from side to side in a kind of I'm weighing up that question gesture. Endless examples of their specific kind of romance flicker by - everything from making a simple but delicious dinner together, long walks with the dogs hand in hand, heady tears enjoyed in shared glee through all of Covent Garden's bespoke eateries and store-fronts, to morning sways to music, surprise visits to each other's place of work on a lunch break to deliver a sweet treat, carnal nights...

A smirk flickers onto Ron's lips.

"--Egalitarian" he says. "We're much th'same."

Random headcanon

Ron isn't the best with spelling and grammar - the legacy of spending much of his school life working to help support his mum and siblings - and his handwriting when he's putting down his own thoughts or words on paper can be anything between passable-ish to fucking appalling. However, when he's copying down a menu onto a chalk board, or decorating that board with lettering that he's got a reference picture for, he's actually quite the artist. "It ain't writin', is it" he's commented when the discrepancy's been pointed out. "M'drawin'...S'different."

[whatanoof]

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

[obae-me]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize. 

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide. 

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness. 

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal. 

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to. 

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you. 

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn. 

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting. 

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was. 

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something? 

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled. 

“Once you… … …  it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!” 

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze. 

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow. 

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying. 

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!” 

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed. 

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach. 

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated. 

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group. 

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either. 

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible. 

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed. 

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?” 

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room. 

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long. 

“They’re awake!” 

“Thank heavens…” 

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!” 

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place. 

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.” 

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…? 

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.” 

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room. 

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly. 

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.” 

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?” 

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?” 

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone. 

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep. 

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming. 

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words. 

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body. 

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.” 

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured. 

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on!  Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement. 

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again. 

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be. 

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.” 

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done. 

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…” 

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?” 

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…�� His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.” 

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…” 

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.” 

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up. 

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?” 

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it. 

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying. 

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.” 

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained. 

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position. 

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.” 

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?” 

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.” 

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?” 

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all  skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.” 

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.” 

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.” 

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours. 

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.” 

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed. 

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head. 

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.” 

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?” 

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?” 

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!” 

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.” 

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!” 

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good. 

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side. 

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.” 

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.” 

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.” 

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.” 

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall. 

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet. 

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat. 

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in. 

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking. 

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm’ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!” 

“ ‘s too...hot.” 

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?” 

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…” 

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep. 

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears. 

“They shouldn’t be down here!” 

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.” 

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.” 

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape. 

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back. 

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?” 

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.” 

“Don’t underestimate him.” 

“Should we wake them up?” 

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.” 

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him. 

“Beel, you alright?” 

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered. 

“In a--” 

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!” 

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel. 

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked. 

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room. 

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?” 

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.” 

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped. 

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.” 

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders. 

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.” 

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you. 

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered. 

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.” 

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.” 

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.” 

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony. 

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Beel--” 

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal. 

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…” 

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.” 

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry. 

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips. 

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.” 

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.” 

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin. 

“Not to me,” he assured you. 

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?” 

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.” 

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now. 

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way. 

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you. 

“Having fun are we?” 

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you. 

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you. 

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug. 

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?” 

You tilted your head. “Levi?” 

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi’s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back. 

“Let me down!” 

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy. 

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.” 

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.” 

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.” 

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?” 

“A little…” 

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you. 

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.” 

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!” 

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub. 

“But I don’t know what you need!” 

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.” 

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk. 

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.” 

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!” 

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.” 

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.” 

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character.  If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?” 

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!” 

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?” 

You brightened. “Sure!” 

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.” 

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know. 

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--” 

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little. 

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…” 

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?” 

“Right here.” 

“Water?” 

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.” 

“D.D.D.?” 

“You can see it in my hands.” 

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?” 

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.” 

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?” 

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?” 

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked. 

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.” 

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?” 

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--” 

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!” 

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!” 

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”  

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…” 

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.” 

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!” 

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?” 

“Yes.” 

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?” 

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud. 

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo. 

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress. 

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.” 

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.” 

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.” 

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?” 

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.” 

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case. 

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?” 

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-” 

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.” 

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!” 

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.” 

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.” 

“Wow, that really sucks for you.” 

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next. 

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?” 

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat. 

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?” 

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…” 

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?” 

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…” 

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.” 

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.” 

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.” 

“But I-” 

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don’t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you. 

“I don’t want your rag water.” 

“Fine.” 

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?” 

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.” 

“Belphie!” 

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.” 

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.” 

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?” 

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.” 

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!” 

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…” 

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!” 

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question. 

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!” 

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips. 

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound. 

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted. 

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly. 

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked. 

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.” 

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him. 

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds. 

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door. 

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild. 

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left. 

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen. 

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?” 

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.” 

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him. 

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!” 

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?” 

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!” 

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest. 

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.” 

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?” 

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked. 

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could. 

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop.  Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver. 

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.” 

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face. 

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same. 

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?” 

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.” 

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters. 

“Asmo…” 

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms. 

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground. 

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.” 

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝐈𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ᴘʏʀᴏᴋɪɴᴇᴛɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) heey!! Can you please write something (possibly smut pls) in which Bucky falls in love with Tony's adoptive daughter but they have to keep it a secret?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: SMUT 18+, fluff, age gap (you’re like mid-twenties and Bucky’s early thirties) angry Tones, Steve being such an asshole lmao 

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: I imagine that you were like thirteen to fifteen during the attack in new york and your parents uh… died ig and Tony took you in and they find out you got super powers teehee

________________________

It started when the Avengers had their first movie with Bucky as a new recruit. He had completed his evaluations and was applicable to join the team. That’s when he met you for the first time. 

You were this beautiful ball of craziness and light and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were tipsy, he could tell and every sudden burst of laughter or even a sneeze you’d spark a flame setting something on fire making you laugh even more. 

He practically fell in love with you that day. 

Weeks later he chalked it up and asked Steve more about you. He told Bucky that your parents had died when you were young during the attack on New York almost ten years ago now and Tony took it upon himself to take you in and protect you. 

“How did you guys know about her powers?”

“We didn’t. Few days after she moved into the Tower she sneezed during breakfast and set her food on fire. I don’t think she knew about them either.”

“Who were her parents?”

“We don’t know. She told us their names but it’s like they don’t exist; no medical history, socials, nothing.”

“Weird.”

You were a mystery, a beautiful mystery. But one thing everyone was that you were Tony’s daughter. Adopted, but still. And Tony still didn’t like him. It was an argument on it’s own to even let near the compound; telling him that he wanted to date his daughter would send him into cardiac arrest. 

So you guys are sneaking around.

Of course you noticed his shy and lingering eyes. You were flattered. You agreed a bunch that Bucky was one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You didn’t push anything and waited for him to come to you. And when he did, he came hard, literally.

It started when Steve was away on a mission in Berlin. Bucky had woken up from a nightmare and he hadn’t had one in weeks. During his time here, because of his infatuation with you, he grew close to you. 

You laid under him so perfectly; like you were meant to be there. The way you bit your lip to muffle your moans so you wouldn’t wake anyone. The way your eyes fluttered when he hit that particular spot. The stinging from your nails dragging down his back. 

“Fucking hell, you feel so good wrapped around me, doll,” he grunted as he continued to thrusted in and out of you. 

“Oh god, Bucky,” you moaned before pulling him down to connect your lips together. 

“Ugh, your dad’s gonna kill me,” he grunted.

“Fuck him,” you chuckled breathlessly.

Breakfast the next morning was foul. Everyone was eating as normal and Steve was set to fly back in from Berlin, but y couldn’t shake the awkward tension between you and Bucky. Both girls could sense that something had happened and when you told them later that day they nearly screamed like teenage girls. 

“You can’t tell anyone! Especially Tony!”

“We won’t say anything,” Nat giggled, “He’s gonna kill you.”

“Not if he kills Bucky first,” Wanda snorted.

Since then every lingering touch, every persistent stare, you found yourselves in either room making the most of however many minutes you had together until someone came looking for you. Your chest pressed against his, combing your fingers through his hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“You’re absolutely irresistible, doll,” Bucky whispered against your ear.

“Fuck, we’re gonna get caught one day,” you panted.

“I know but we haven’t yet, so be a good girl and turn around for me so I can that gorgeous ass while I fuck you from behind.”

You turned over, getting on your hands and knees instantaneously feeling a pleasurable sting from Bucky’s hand on your cheek. He quickly soothed the pain by rubbing his hand over the red mark before gliding up your spine to softly rub your back. 

He slowly slid back in through your folds eliciting a moan from you both. His pelvis slapping against your soft skin, the sound echoing lewdly through the room. Your arms gave out and your face buried into the sheets under you letting Bucky hit deeper inside you making you nearly scream.

You threw your head back up covering your mouth to muffle the moans. Bucky bit his lip harshly in an attempt but wasn’t as successful as you were. His hips snapped violently, stuttering every now and then as he got closer to a release. 

“God, Buck! I’m gonna cum! Fuck!” you whined.

“Shit,” Bucky groaned before spilling inside you, coating your walls with hot cum. 

He fell forward pressing soft kisses to your slightly sweaty skin. He lifted himself and turned you around, settling between your legs lazily kissing you in your post sex bliss. You looked so pretty with your hair spread out on the sheets and the marks that littered your neck and your breasts. He truly fell in love with you and you did for him too. 

“Y/n,” he whispered looking intimately into your eyes.

“Bucky,” you whispered back with a grin.

“I lo-”

“Hey, Buck. I’ve been looking for- What the fuck!” Steve barged through the door to find you two nude in each other's arms. You tucked your face in your shoulder away from the door in shame and Bucky saw red. He reached above your head immediately and threw as hard as he could at the intruder.

“Get out!” 

Steve slammed the door shut with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Did he see what he thinks he saw? He went to the lab to look for Tony. 

“Hey, Tony, do you know about Y/n and Bucky?”

“Excuse me?” he sassed.

“I uh- I found them together. In Buck’s room. Uh... naked.” 

Tony slowly raised his head with an evil expression staring directly into Steve making the big super soldier feel timid. 

“What!”

You and Bucky cleaned yourselves up and changed as soon as Steve left. You sat next to each other on his bed unsure of what’s to come next. 

“Maybe Steve won’t say anything?” Bucky shrugged.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” you sighed.

“Hey, I won’t let him-”

“Get the hell away from my daughter!” Tony shouted slamming the door to Bucky’s bedroom opened; behind him stood and guilty Steve and you felt rage.

“You fucking told on us!” you spiraled fire around your fingers ready to fight for revenge. Your hands and arms glowed bright red and orange and yellow and pits of fire glowed in your eyes. Steam practically

“Hey calm down,” Bucky grabbed your waist. He stepped in front you and lifted your chin to look at him. The second your eyes met with his, your entire body cooled down and you felt yourself fall in the ocean that are his eyes; as if a wave had dissipated the fire you created. 

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” Tony fumed.

“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this,” Bucky defended.

“The hell she does. You’re sleeping with my daughter!”

“I’m not talking about this; I’m talking about what we have. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t be having a cow,” Bucky growled. 

“Tony,” you stepped forward.

“Dad,” you whispered; Tony's eyes snapped to yours. 

“Please, I love him.”

“No,” he couldn’t accept it.

“Well, whether or not you like it, we’re gonna be together.”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“We’ll just keep sneaking around like we have been for months.”

“Months!”

“Yes, months. And it would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for you!” you pointed at Steve, who casted his eyes away in guilt.

“Dad, please. I love Bucky so much; and you’re not going to take him away from me,” you cried. 

Tony noticed how sincere you spoke. And the way he easily calmed you down; he knew there was love between you two. He wouldn’t be to live with himself if he took something that clearly made you so happy away from you. As much as he couldn’t move past his issues with Bucky he knows that Bucky was right and that this has nothing to do with you. 

“I don’t want any more accidents with walking in your private time. You’re lucky it was Steve and not me; I would’ve killed you both on the spot,” he said to you.

“Thank you, Dad,” you hugged him tightly before going back to Bucky’s side. 

“And you; if you so much as put her in a bad mood, I’ll fucking kill you,” Tony said before leaving.

“Well, well, well,” Bucky looked at Steve.

“Bucky, leave him alone; it’s not like he almost ruined our lives and tore us apart,” you chuckled.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think freak out like that,” Steve apologized.

“And why didn’t you lock the door?” he asked.

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” you looked at Bucky with furrowed brows. 

“Don’t turn on me, this is not my fault!” Bucky defended as you and Steve shared a laugh.

“Well, I’m happy for you guys. You’re good together,” Steve smiled before walking out and closing the door. 

“Wow, Toyn fucking terrifying when he’s in dad mode,” Bucky turned to you.

“Yeah, but he’ll come around.”

“I love you too, by the way.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

==========================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

@Pluto-grl 

Taglist?

[thethem]

I was in the mood for a Garashir sickfic. Didn't have a lot of time to proofread and scribbled it down way too fast but I was craving and out of fics.

--------‐

Garak was waiting at their usual table for twenty minutes now. It was quite rare that Doctor Bashir was late to their weekly lunch. Of course, Garak knew that the he was a busy man - especially so the last week. There was some sort of psychic illness that only affected the bajoran habitants of the Station and it turned out to be letal in some cases, so Julian worked 24/7 when Kira was infected. Gladly, he found a cure and Garak hoped his companion had found the time to read that cardassian novel he gave him.

After thirty minutes had passed, he decided to go to the infirmary to see what kept the physician from joining him.

The only personnel to be found was a bajoran nurse and when Garak asked for Bashir, she told him that the Doctor went to his quaters two hours ago and only wanted to be disturbed in case of an emergency.

This was interesting. Garak shortly considered returning back to his store but he had a feeling that something was off.

It took a few minutes until Julian answered the doorball. "Garak? What are you... oh no, I forgot our lunch! I'm really, really sorry. I..."

"No need to apologize, I just wanted to see if there was another medical catastrophy keeping you from eating proper meals."

"No, not at all. On the contrary, there wasn't a single..." Julian squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in pain and Garak noticed a sheen of swaet on the humans forehead. "Are you alright, my dear?"

The CMO shook his head and leaned heavily against the wall "Yes, yes, sorry. Just... tired."

"Tired?" Garak asked in disbelive. "I may not be an expert in human physiology but I think you do look a bit unwell. May I suggest you sit down for a moment?"

Julian nodded and swayed at the attempt to move from the wall. Was he supposed to look that pale?

Garak intervened and grabbed Bashirs arm to support him. "Let me help you. Careful, you positively look like you are about to faint."

With Elims help, Julian sat down on the couch and was shaking now. "I'm sorry. I feel a bit lightheaded. It'll pass."

"I'm sure it will, but what caused it?"

"Just tired." Julian repeated.

"Oh no, my dear Doctor, I do not think so. And you don't think so, either, do you?"

Before he could answer, Julian buried his nose in the crook of his arm and stifled three rapid sneezes "Hng'ishh...h'ishhu...sh'huu... ugh, sorry. I think I caught some sort of virus".

"You certainly did. Isn't there a cure?"

"Well, there is. But you have to take it within the first 48 hours and are supposed to rest for at least a day for it to work properly."

"And you had no time to rest, I guess?"

"The medication to cure this virus takes at least five hours to allivate the symptoms and I didn't have that much time so I took... I took something to supress the symptoms instead and seemingly it made everything worse." The last words nearly got lost in a coughing fit.

Garak went to the Replicator and came back with a glass of water.

"You do sound awful. Any chance a cardassian could catch it?"

"No... it's... a hu... human virus." Julian wheezed inbetween coughs.

The tailor sat down next to him and helped him to slowly drink a few sips.

"Then I do think I could close up my shop in time today and we reshedule our meal to dinner in your quaters."

"I'm not sure I'm making good company today."

"You do not have to, my dear Doctor. You rest now and later I'll make sure you're eating some soup. Do you need anything before I go?"

"Nah, I'll get some sleep, thank you." He closed his eyes and lay down right on the couch. Garak went for a blanket and put it gently over the already asleep physician before he left.

Tbc?

[sickonthedancefloor]

77-Minute Consequence...

Prompt: Not everyone left the pool from Run 132 unscathed...

Sickie: Hoseok, Jimin Caretakers: Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi... so far Content: fevers, flu-like illnesses, emeto

Hoseok had fun filming the double-dose of run episodes, their second being a watery debate that ended in non-stop splashing and drenching, but he could feel the chill once they were out of the water. Even if the water was so forceful it really almost hurt, after their long morning of tennis battles, it was still a great day. The pool water was warmed, not quite at the intensity of the hot tub but it certainly wasn’t freezing. But they could feel the draft every moment they stepped from the water, the feeling of the air drafting over their soaked clothing the moment they left the safety of the pool.

“Come on, hyungie, time to get out,” Jimin urged, pushing his foot against Hoseok’s. They were still in the pool trying to soak in the last bit of warmth they could after Jungkook pushed them in while horsing around, hair plastered to their necks and foreheads while they bounced across the shallow end.

Laughing, Hoseok tried to grab Jimin’s foot, only to assist in tripping the younger member as Taehyung hurried in after them.

“Come on, guys, let’s get ready to go.”

Suga, with a new towel wrapped around his shoulders, stood from the sidelines. He already worried about all of them catching something, but he definitely didn’t want to be the first. While the pool was relaxing and the hot tub even better, it was just slightly too cold for them to enjoy it to its fullest. Hoseok, ever the one of reason, let go of his roommate in favor of wading towards the exit—but Jimin was quick to jump on his back to shove him in, cackling as Hoseok barely had time to grab his nose to prevent inhaling water. When he came up, spluttering and wiping away fresh water from his eyes, he leaned back in an attempt to dunk Jimin off.

…just kidding about reason, Suga realized. Laughing, he just turned and hurried off to find where Namjoon had gone.

Hoseok sneezed again, small but powerful; it shook his core, his sinuses burning, his nerve endings tingling uncomfortably from his shoulders to his fingertips from the force. It startled him.

“Uh-oh.” Came a voice behind him in the water.

When Hoseok shook water from his eyes, slightly dazed from the force of the sneeze, he caught Jungkook wading over, hands outstretched. Hoseok barely had time to reach back before Jungkook had latched onto his shoulders, slowly dragging him back.

“Jungkookie, what are you doing?” Hoseok mumbled.

“Taking Hobi-hyung to the steps. Come on, let’s go, I’m hungry!”

“We need to shower first,” Hoseok started. “The chlor—clor--… claahh…” And another sneeze, which had him shaking suddenly in Jungkook’s grasp.

Jimin, who’d been lazily wading behind them, sniffled with a frown. “Hob-ah, that doesn’t sound so good.”

“Aish… I just need a hot shower when we get back. You too, Jiminie, your nose is running.”

“Is d’ot!” Jimin protested, but he had to bring a hand to his face to wipe away what he had originally thought was just water. It felt wet but warm, stringy; definitely snot. And disgusting. He turned his head from Hoseok to hide the move, but Hoseok had already begun ascending the stairs, already trying to peel himself out of his soaked tops. On Jimin’s own way out of the pool, he sneezed—and it was enough to drop him back into the water with a melodramatic air about it. Jungkook lost himself to laughter immediately.

 ~*~

 The next morning, Hoseok woke up with two major complaints. His blanket was part missing, and he was hot. The dorm room had felt frigid the night prior which prompted Hoseok to crawl underneath the comforter and the sheets, but his bed felt so warm he began to regret his choices the moment he stirred awake. It felt almost… stuffy. A little gross. As he blinked open his eyes, ready to push back one blanket, he noticed a familiar lump pressed against him that was holding on to his blanket like a lifeline.

“Jiminie?” he mumbled, voice hoarse and thick with sleep. Still as ever, Hoseok recognized that messy blonde hair from anywhere. He and Jimin had shared enough beds that he could tell in an instant.

The room still seemed too dark as Hoseok tried to blink the sleep from his eyes, but he knew something had to have been wrong if Jimin had maneuvered over to his bed that night. Stifling a yawn, he reached a hand over, gingerly pressing his palm against Jimin’s forehead. He could feel heat, but… not too warm? Maybe? Jimin felt clammy to him, which he was sure wasn’t his own sweaty palms. Something still seemed off to Hoseok, but even with his sleep-logged brain he wanted to do something about it. He figured, while he was up, he’d at least check on him, perhaps get him medicine and water to shake whatever he seemed to be coming down with. The older dancer moved carefully, sliding his legs from the covers first so he could slip from the bed without disturbing his younger guest. The floor seemed chilly under his feet, but what startled him awake was how fast the world seemed to sway the moment he stood.

Was he really so tired?

Taking a moment, hand pressed flat against the wall, he just reacquainted himself with his sense of balance before he took another step. He felt… sore, tired from yesterday’s events. Perhaps he just really needed more sleep; Hobi hated not getting enough sleep when he had the chance to. But today’s schedule was light—he could go back to sleep after he took care of Jimin, squeeze in another hour or two. Grumbling, he shook his head; once everything seemed to right itself, he shook the funk from his head and just left the room. That sure was strange. With a soft yawn, he headed over to the bathroom on their side of the hall, as he could hear the shower running in the closer one, moving towards their first aid and medicine stash they had.

Given the seven of them were always prone to falling, overworking, or catching each other’s illnesses, their bathrooms in the dorms were always stocked with various painkillers, bandages and cold medicine or prescriptions for various circumstances. For organizational purposes, Hoseok had placed them all in a plastic container, so different bottles wouldn’t just get knocked over and passed around the bathroom. It still had a crack from the last time Namjoon knocked it over. Pulling over the container closer to him, Hoseok reached in for one of the bottles of painkillers, looking at the specifics on the label. His vision blurred, and he spent a few moments just blinking, trying to will his eyes to focus so he could read the label.

Wow, he must have been really tired…                          

“Hoseok-ah?”

The light turned on suddenly. That would’ve helped, but it had Hoseok grimacing, an odd heavy feeling forming in his head. He didn’t often get headaches from lack of sleep, but he was starting to wonder if an impending one was coming along. He looked into the mirror at the new offender, and was surprised to find Jin standing in the doorway with his toothbrush. The two made eye contact through the reflections.

“Ah… Hyung. Good morning. Using our bathroom?”

“Yeah, Taetae’s hogging the shower in ours.” Jin’s head tilted to the side, a small frown tugging on his lips as he noticed the medicine kit in front of them. “Did something happen? Hoseok-ah, are you okay?”

“Hn? Ah… Jiminie’s sick, I’m pretty sure,” Hoseok explained. “He crawled into my bed last night, but he’s really warm today so I think he’s got a fever.”

“Hm… Well, let hyung help with that.” Jin set his toothbrush down and moved a little closer, brushing his shoulder against Hoseok’s as he slid the container of medications closer to him. “And you?” he asked, head turning to Hoseok directly. “How are you feeling?”

“Ah…” How was he feeling? Hoseok just yawned again. “I think once I check on Jimin, I’m—” but he paused, bringing a hand to his mouth to force out a rough cough. It hurt, an uncomfortable heat overwhelming his chest as he tried to choke out whatever offending phlegm had gripped into his lungs. After a few rough coughs, accompanied with Jin’s hand patting his back, he manages to stop, taking in a harsh breath. He looked up, shaking his head. “Once I check on Jiminie, I’m going back to sleep for another hour.”

Jin’s arm draped around his shoulder to give the younger rapper a hug, but he paused and moved his hand back, pressing it against the back of Hoseok’s neck. At the offending heat, he brought his other hand up to Hoseok’s cheek, pressing the back of his fingers to clammy skin. Hoseok didn’t bother fighting him off, not bothering to entertain his concern, and just continued to rummage through the kit until he could find the thermometer.

“I think you’re also sick… It’d explain why you’re so sweaty. You’re really clammy.”

Hoseok just shook his head. “Jiminie was too hot is all,” he answered. “Jin-hyung, I’m okay--” But his breath hitched. His sinuses suddenly burned, and it’s all the movement he could do to turn his head away before letting out a loud, nasally sneeze onto his own shoulder. His nose felt wet instantly, and he screwed up his face in discomfort, leaning over to grab a tissue.

Jin’s frown grew in intensity, and as Hoseok wiped his nose, the older one turned him to face him, looking closer at his face, catching view of the glassy look in Hoseok’s doe eyes. Despite his determination, Hoseok merely looked too dazed to stay on his feet for long. “Seok-ah… Come on, listen to hyung.”

Hoseok sniffled, blinking almost owlishly at Jin. “I’ll take something later, but I’m fine.”  With a soft laugh, Hoseok shook his head and stepped back, grabbing the painkillers and thermometer on his way back to his room. Jin watched after him, frowning heavily.

“I’m going to get you both some water.”

“I already have water,” Hoseok called after him, but he grimaced at how harsh it felt against his throat. He pointedly ignored Jin’s pressing stare and scurried back into his room, crawling back onto the bed. Leaning over, he gently pressed his weight against Jimin, resting his head against the younger dancer’s. “Jiminie, wake up, wake up,” he said softly in a sing-song voice.

Jimin grimaced, but immediately turned his face towards his pillow to cough roughly as he tried to clear away any phlegm that settled into his chest during his slumber. Hoseok eased off, dropping the pill bottle on the bed to pat Jimin’s back until the fit ended. It took a minute, but by the time the fit ended, Jin was back with a water bottle, Hoseok slowly urging Jimin to sit up while Jin brought the cool water to his lips. Barely awake, Jimin sipped at the water slowly, his small hand reaching up to grab it from the older vocalist. After a few seconds, with Hoseok just rubbing circles against his back, he handed it back, taking a deep breath with it.

“Sorry, hyungs…” Jimin mumbled. He brought a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “I didn’t feel great last night… I was cold.”

“You’re sick, Minnie.” Jin ran a hand through his hair, then pressed a hand against Jimin’s forehead, taking a moment to gauge his fever himself. His eyes widened, which had Hoseok tilting his head in confusion. “Your fever feels really high, too…”

“It didn’t feel that bad when I checked earlier,” countered Hoseok, though the exasperated frown he received in response had him shrinking back. He glanced around, a little surprised to find another water bottle and cough syrup on the side table. Turning his lips inward, he handed the thermometer over when prompted, and Jin removed the cap.

“Under your tongue, please. And no talking until it gets a reading.”

Jimin blinked in surprise, glancing between the two of them. “You guys came prepared… Wasn’t expecting that.” But he did as instructed, letting Jin position the thermometer in his mouth before closing his lips around it. Hoseok turned his face away to let out another sneeze, grimacing as the sensation set his nerves temporarily aflame. Still holding the tissue from earlier, he just wiped his nose again.

“Did—”

“Don’t talk.”

Jimin’s lips closed back over the thermometer, but his eyes turned to Hoseok as they waited. Jin pointedly avoided looking at Hoseok. Once the small device beeped, Jin moved it from Jimin in order to gauge the reading: 38.8°C. Jin read it aloud as he stood from the bed.

“Not dangerously high, thankfully… If we stay on top of it, it should go down. Feeling anything else besides the fever, Minnie?” Jin questioned his dongsaeng.

“This dumb cough… my head hurts a little, but the painkillers will help with that.”

The eldest nodded. “Alright… I grabbed cough syrup too. Take that while I go wash this off.”

As Jin left the room, Hoseok leaned over Jimin to grab the cough syrup, frowning when he noticed the two small dosage cups tucked on top. Jimin seemed to notice them too, looking over at his roommate.

“Did I get you sick, hyungie?” he asked softly.

“You didn’t, Jiminie, so cute of my precious roommate to worry about me!” Hoseok cooed playfully, though the rasp to his voice was evident to the younger man given his little pout. The older dancer worked on finding the proper dosage for the syrup. But as he attempted to read, his brows furrowed; for some reason, they words weren’t focusing as well, but it was probably due to the lower lighting. He brought it closer to his face, but his eyes watered a bit trying to stare too closely.

Jimin’s own clammy hands gently eased the bottle from his grip, a soft look in his eyes. Hoseok could see a look of worry; he didn’t like that at all. “Let’s just wait for Jin-hyung for that one. Where’s the painkillers?”

Oh, those he had. Hoseok picked up that bottle and opened it with slight strain, but paused as he turned his face away with another sneeze. He sniffled, then knocked out two tablets to hand to Jimin. The smaller singer tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with a large swig of the water, then glanced at his roommate again.

“What, Jiminie?”

“Are you just going to pretend you’re okay all day?” Jimin asked softly, pouting once again.

“W-what?”

Jimin didn’t get a chance to answer before Jin was back, sitting down near Jimin’s legs. He leaned over, holding the thermometer to Hoseok. He had his stern face on, something the others hadn’t seen in a long while. Jin was a rather easygoing member, usually more playful than anything, unless there was something truly bothering him or if he was concentrating too hard. “Humor me.”

“Jin-hyung, this is ridic—” Jin cut Hoseok off by pressing the thermometer in his mouth.

“Under your tongue.”

“Ji—”

“And no talking!”

With a frown over the small device, Hoseok pulled the thermometer from his lips and merely climbed from the bed to clean it. What he didn’t expect was to catch Jimin’s hand gripping his own, tugging him back down. It was almost embarrassing how easy Hoseok stumbled back, eyes wildly blinking as his view changed suddenly. He frowned, and the uneasy sensation from earlier returned almost full force. Jin wasted no time pushing the thermometer back in his mouth, but he sat still with a small huff, waiting. Jin busied himself with filling both dosage cups with liquid, handing Jimin one of them. Once the thermometer beeped, Hoseok pulled it from his lips and frowned at the reading: a 39.1°C. Jin quickly snagged it from him before he could erase the reading, which had him sighing.

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Hoseok insisted.

Jin just handed him the second cup. “Drink up.”

With a sigh, Hoseok just nodded, drinking the small cup like a shot. It burned just as badly going down, but far less satisfying, than soju. As Jin collected the cups, he handed Hoseok the second water bottle and left the room again.

Jimin sighed, flopping back on the bed. He definitely looked worse for wear, and Hoseok brought a shaky hand up to run fingers through his hair. Jimin smiled softly. “Hyungie… Since we’re both sick, we should just nap all day. Cuddle me?”

With a grumble, Hoseok just crawled his way back onto the bed next to Jimin, pushing away the covers on his side. With this fever, Jimin felt like a furnace and it was extremely easy to overheat. Hoseok didn’t sip the water, merely held onto the bottle pressed to the side of his chest; although he wouldn’t admit it, the cold temperature in his hands felt nice to just hold onto. Jin didn’t say much else, merely reached over to ruffle both of their heads before standing.

“Go ahead and rest, okay? I’ll stay in today. If you need anything, call hyung.”

Jimin smiled up at him before tucking his face into Hoseok’s neck, yawning loudly. Hoseok merely pulled him close and let his eyes flutter closed. He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

 ~*~

 Waking up was a startling affair. Still half-asleep, Hoseok barely registered the feeling of someone pulling him upright, and he bumped his head immediately against someone’s knee.

“Whoops, sorry, Hob-ah.”

“Yah, Namjoon-ah! Be careful!”

Faint coughing from Jimin, then the immediate sound of retching. Hoseok opened his eyes to see Jimin hunched over the side of the bed, Jin rubbing his back gently while looking at someone over Hoseok’s head. Namjoon, Hoseok guessed, but he couldn’t understand how Namjoon ended up standing over him. And then the overwhelming scent of vomit just attacked his nose, overpowering the scent of sickness that had begun to permeate the room. He felt hot, and sticky, and feeling Namjoon’s large arms holding him up by his armpits didn’t help.

“You awake, Hobi?” Namjoon asked. “We’re gonna have to help you two shower after this.”

Grimacing, Hoseok brought a hand up to rub his eye—only for both Namjoon and Jin to yell at him to stop moving. He paused, hand lifted upward—and it was wet. A warm, sticky wet, and smelled sour… He was quick to realize it was vomit, in its gross and putrid glory. Jimin let out another heavy, loud retch, and Hoseok’s own stomach flipped at the sound of liquid splashing into something plastic. Hoseok didn’t do well with vomit on a decent day, barely being a step above sympathy puking, but the uncomfortable warmth and the heavy odor in the air was more than enough to make him nauseous immediately. He whimpered, mouth already beginning to salivate uncomfortably.

“Yaaaah, Hoseok-ah, let Namjoon get you to the bathroom first! Namjoon--”

“I got it!”

The younger rapper came into view as he stepped to Hoseok’s left side, letting go of the dancer in order to flip the blanket to the side. Hoseok could see the liquid already seeping through, and his shirt was drenched in sweat and speckled in leftover stomach bile. He felt gross… His stomach rolled immediately. Namjoon wasted no time in pulling Hoseok to his feet and off the bed, ignoring the dripping mess from his hand as he ushered him to the bathroom. Hoseok wasted no time dropping to his knees when they made it past the door, not even waiting for Namjoon to turn on the light before he gave in to his body’s demands. The pressure forced bile from him like it had been waiting for hours, the cramp in his stomach twisting to empty the contents. He didn’t eat much, so he was startled when one mouthful became three, which soon were too many to count. Just what did he even have in his stomach to expel so harshly? His shoulders shook with exertion, cleaner hand trembling as it gripped the edge of the commode so tight his knuckles were white. All the while, Namjoon knelt beside him, wiping his messy hand with a wet wipe before just rubbing his back, reassuring him that he was okay, to just let it out and he’d feel better soon. It felt almost never-ending, each few seconds forcing out another painful retch as he tried to cough up whatever he could have eaten in the past week, his esophagus on fire. His back hurt, tense from the strain, and he could barely feel his fingers.

It took a long few minutes before the cramping let up, and Hoseok, extremely winded and drained, rested his head to the side of the bowl. He’d needed a shower anyway; this wasn’t the worst. Namjoon sighed softly, more of relief than anything.

“Nothing else in there?” he asked.

“Nn-nn. Joonie… that felt bad.”

“It looked bad.”

Hoseok could feel Namjoon easing his face away, hearing the sudden roar of the toilet flushing before him. He let him go, and Hoseok’s cheek found the porcelain again while he just let his eyes fall closed and listened to the ruckus happening around him. Namjoon swearing softly as he messed with the cleaning wipes, probably cleaning up whatever mess Hoseok may have made of around the toilet. He could hear the shower running, and Namjoon soon tugging the toilet paper roll—the entire roll, judging by the sudden clanging of metal—from the ring. It didn’t take long for Hoseok to feel toilet paper wiping at his mouth, and he pouted at the feeling.

“Sorry, we should probably rinse your mouth out before you shower, but let me get this extra off your face.”

“Can I shower here?” Hoseok muttered.

With a soft laugh, Namjoon just helped him remove his dirtied clothing. Hoseok leaned back to realize Namjoon also seemed to be shirtless, and opened his eyes to find that his friend had already stripped to his own boxers.

“Wha…?”

Namjoon laughed softly. “You’re really not in any condition to shower by yourself, Hob-ah.”

That earned him a pout. Hoseok wanted to believe he wasn’t so incapacitated that he needed help… but given how the fatigue seemed to stay settled in his bones, he knew his friend was right. Namjoon was at least kind about it as he helped him move into the shower, taking extra effort to massage Hoseok’s scalp as he conditioned his hair just to help him relax. Hoseok didn’t even feel shame as he let the shower’s water splash against his clammy skin. He let Namjoon sponge away grime and sweat from his body, and the gentle scent of the soap already brightened up his mood. Namjoon urged him out before he got too relaxed, helping him dress in fresh pajamas. Upon closer look, Hoseok realized that neither the pants nor the oversized shirt were his, but they felt nice nonetheless.

“Finally got in your pants, Namjoooon,” Hoseok laughed breathlessly.

That got a chuckle out of his friend, who just toweled his hair for a few seconds before walking him down the hall. As they passed his shared bedroom, Hoseok found himself squinting over his shoulder in surprise. “Mm… Joonie?”

“Jin-hyung’s letting your room air out a little more,” Namjoon replied. Instead, he was led right into Namjoon’s own room, and the taller rapper helped ease him into bed. With a soft sigh, Hoseok pressed his face right against the pillow. Feeling considerably cooler, more comfortable, and on one of Namjoon’s feathersoft pillows, he was already doing better. The fellow 94-liner draped a blanket over him and straightened it out, then, to be safe, pushed his desk trash can to the side of the bed. “Rest for a while, okay, Hobi?”

Hoseok didn’t need to be told twice. Eyes closing, he fell asleep easily.

 ~*~

 Hoseok awoke feeling way too warm. With a grimace, he lifted a hand to push the blankets away, only to find that he apparently had been hugging some sort of companion. Confused, he paused, lifting his head up as he squinted forward.

From there, he saw Yoongi, earphone in one ear, phone in a hand with stylus in the other, He seemed to be jotting down notes. Yoongi absently placed the stylus in his mouth and moved his hand to Hoseok’s hair, petting it gently. The notion had Hoseok moving to drop his head against Yoongi’s chest, his arm still draped across his stomach. He hummed softly.

“Hyung?” Hoseok mumbled.

Yoongi’s hand didn’t stop petting his hair. “You’re awake, Seokseok-ah?”

Hoseok gave a slight nod. “It’s hot in here.”

Yoongi looked down, and his hand moved from ruffling his hair to covering his forehead. “Shit… you missed a dose. You need more medicine.”

Shaking his head, Hoseok let out a whine. “I don’t wanna be asleep anymore. Yoongiiii…”

That got a chuckle out of the older boy. “Come on. Meds, a little bit of juk, and maybe we can crash in the living room for a bit—”

Before Yoongi could finish discussing the game plan, the door to Namjoon’s room swung open carefully, and Jin’s head popped in. Hoseok turned to look at him, putting on a smile.

“Hey, you’re up! See, Jimin-ah? He’s okay, he was just resting in here.” His voice remained low and soft, and Hoseok had to smile at how careful their eldest hyung was being. As Jin moved back, Hoseok could see Jimin peering in, eyes tired but delighted to see him.

“Hobi-hyung!” Jimin wasted no time in crossing the room, immediately draping himself over the two on the bed.

Hoseok fought back a grimace and smiled, small hand reaching over to ruffle Jimin’s hair. Jimin’s extra weight pressed against his tender stomach and just made him feel warmer, but he was glad to see his roommate. “Jiminie, feeling better?”

Jimin sighed dramatically. “Only a little bit… I’m sorry I threw up on you.”

At that, Yoongi laughed, hand reaching over to gently shove Jimin’s shoulder. “Better get out before you throw up on this bed too.”

“Hyung, don’t tease me, I’m sick,” whined the small vocalist. He received another shove in response.

But with a laugh, Jin merely headed in to tug Jimin back to his feet, promising they’d visit again later. As they left, Hoseok could hear Jin convincing Jimin to return to bed now that they’d seen Hoseok, and the gesture made Hoseok feel warm inside. It was nice to know that Jimin cared for him even as they were; he just hoped the others were taking as good care of Jimin as they were of himself. He was sure they were, especially if Jin was there. Jin was the best.

“What’s that make me,” Yoongi asked, “Chopped liver?”

Hoseok laughed, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. “You’re my best hyung.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Yoongi chuckled at that, bringing a hand back up to stroke Hoseok’s hair. As Hoseok began to relax against him, the older rapper nudged him with his shoulder. “Come on, Seokseok-ah… Food and meds. Food and meds, and then you can sleep again.”

With a grumble, Hoseok just pressed his face further into Yoongi’s shoulder and tried to pretend he didn’t have to get up.

[heroloverangel]

Ice Cream

Ingenium will always be a great hero.

The parking lot is crowded when you arrive with your husband. It’s a warm day, and the new ice cream shop has a line stretching out the door into the grocery store’s sidewalk next door. You scan the list as you head towards the entrance and debate on whether you want chicken or beef tonight, and you’re distracted by two little girls running across the pavement with each other. The younger one looks about three, laughing wildly right up until she trips on a crack and tumbles to the ground directly in front of you. Her sister looks a bit older and immediately runs back to the crying girl, and you watch Tensei fall back into his role as a hero without a second thought.

“Are you alright?” He leans forward in his chair to look for any injuries. “What’s your name?”

“A-Ami. And she’s Miki.” she stammers through her tears, the bigger girl helping her to her feet and staring curiously at the pipes on his arms.

He smiles at them. “I’m Iida. Do you know where your parents are?” Miki nods at points at the line.

“Daddy said he’d get us ice cream if we were good and waited for him.”

“That’s nice of him. It looks like you scraped your knees, but I bet the ice cream will help.” He looks towards the shop and you can tell he’s trying to pick out their father. “I’m sure if you tell your dad, he’ll get you patched up and back to playing in no time. Can you tell me his name?”

The question is unnecessary as a man jogs towards you with a pair of ice cream cones, calling the girls’ names. “What are you two up to? I hope you’re not bothering these people.”

Miki shakes her head. “We’re not, I promise! Ami fell down and her knees are broke. But look, Daddy! Mr. Iida has funny metal on his arms just like the hero you told us about!” Their father finally turns his head and takes a good look at your husband, putting some facts together. The little girls take the opportunity to pull their treats out of his hands while he’s distracted.

“You’re not Ingenium by any chance, are you?”

Tensei nods. “I was, before I retired.”

He lets out a surprised laugh. “No kidding! I’m sure you don’t remember this, but about six years ago there was a bus crash in the middle of Naruhata. You’re the one who pulled me out and got me to the hospital.” He shakes his hand with enthusiasm. “If it weren’t for you…” He smiles and looks at his daughters, happily eating their ice cream without a thought to Ami’s skinned knees. “...my girls wouldn’t be here.” Ingenium, always such a laid back hero, waves off his praise but the man insists. “No really, I���d love to have a chat if you’ve got the time.”

Tensei glances at you and you gesture for him to go. “Stay a bit and talk. I can handle the produce section on my own.” You give him a pat on the shoulder and head inside. You remember to grab a few last minute items and make sure to stop by the pharmacy section for vitamins before you pay and rejoin his group. They’ve moved into the shade, and the girls are standing on either side of your husband asking questions as fast as their little mouths can move.

“Do your pipes turn on when you sneeze really hard?”

“Can you start a fire with them?”

“Do they rust when you go swimming?”

“Have you ever gone really really fast and hit a wall? I did that once. It hurts.”

You listen to them with a huge grin on your face for a few more minutes before you step in to rescue him. He tells them goodbye, shaking their father’s hand once again and heads for the car with you. Your grin widens when you realize you’re being followed by the delighted shouts of the girls thanking him for being such a great hero. You notice that the smile never leaves his face even once you get home and it warms you heart. He’s always been a little too humble and never did it for the praise, but it’s nice to get a solid reminder of all the good he’s done.

“Good day, huh?” He seems distracted and blinks at you for a moment before nodding. “Are you thinking about how adorable those girls were, too?” Tensei laughs and scratches the back of his neck, his thoughts too obvious.

“Yeah. You know, I’ve been thinking…” His gaze flicks from your face down to your stomach, and you can read his mind. You’ve been together for years now, and for the past few months you’ve been talking more seriously about the idea of kids. He’s made steady progress with his physical therapy, but the doctors have suggested that his injury could make things more difficult and you might need a bit of medical assistance to conceive. It’s a lot to think about, but you keep coming back to it more and more lately.

You stop and run your fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve actually been thinking, too. Will you grab that bag off the table for me?” He moves to hand you the bag but pauses when he looks down at the items inside. Iron supplements? Prenatal vitamins? A pregnancy test?

His eyes go wide as he stares back at you. “You’re pregnant?”

You laugh sheepishly. “Well, we’re about to find out.” The next ten minutes are the longest in your life as he steers you toward the bathroom and you’re forced to wait for the test. You’re not surprised when you see the result, but the sense of pure joy that wells up in you makes you feel like you might burst and you throw your arms around your husband’s shoulders. “It’s positive! Tensei, we’re having a baby!”

His expression mirrors your own and he pulls you in for a tight hug. At the moment, nothing else matters beyond your little growing family. You feel so lucky, knowing that your child has such an amazing hero to look up to.

[goodlucksnez]

short t/odoroki quirk flu

AGED UP T/ODOROKI

I wrote this IDK i if it good or if i should continue but enjoy

It was October again...a glorious October, all red and gold, with mellow mornings when the valleys were filled with delicate mists as if the spirit of autumn had poured them in for the sun to drain — amethyst, pearl, silver, rose, and smoke-blue. The dews were so heavy that the fields glistened like cloth of silver. Todoroki walked in the dewy morning to the agency his feet dragging on the slightly darken surface. The golden light pierced his orbs the headache he had been nursing kicked up in intensity and he winced in response. As the blue outline of the agency began to come into view, he swallowed his pride and gathered the energy to push the metal doors open into the warm interior.

Todoroki at the age of 24 created his agency to the dismay of his father. He had around 50 employees who all reported to him. When he entered the building the dull hum of the fluorescent lights pained him and he winced as he made his way into his office ignoring the pain and the increasing congestion in his face.

Once he sat down in his chair, his assistant came rushing in. “Good morning Sir.”

“Please Nightmare I told you to call me Shoto. But continue.”

“Of course, your morning was uneventful I assume. Well, here are your files and remember you have a meeting at 2 o’clock.”

“Thank you, Nightmare. If you could take all my calls this morning, I have a bit of a headache.”

She nodded and closes the door more quietly. As Shoto opened the desktop and logged into the files of the arrest in the past week. As he clicked on a rather interesting case called position dagger his nose started to itch and run. As he sniffled back the congestion the itch increased in intensity. He scratched his nose with his left hand. While he began to type, he found his eyes beginning to close and he turned his chair away from his desk as his breath begin to hitch.

“-ISSHoo-!! hhisSShww!- ISSHwww!”

As he covered his nose and mouth with his hand, he could not help but notice the small amount of snowflake flutter out before melting in the inside of his palm. He brushed off the strange incident as a rare occurrence, just a mishap with his Quirk. When he turned his chair back to his desk he could hear the fast footstep approaching signaling an interruption from an employee. Before the person in question could knock he pushed the button under his desk that automatically opened the door. What he says before him was no surprise. The lightly blue wavy hair was up in a messy bun and her eyes told the story something was up.

The girl spoke. “Sorry, Sir but you are needed on the front lines, The Kanto region as requested backup from all Pros in a 50 miles radius.” The girl spoke with such speed and clarity he was honestly impressed. “He gathered his thoughts quickly and cleared his throat before speaking “Thank you Melody I assume this is because of the recent gang-related violence.”

“Yes sir they seem to have taken multiple locations hostage and are asking for all pros to be bought before them.”

They both nodded in unions knowing this was some type of trap, but still, public safety was their number one concern. He gathered his gear and headed to the roof waiting for his transit to pick him up.

-----

Once he made his way to the first location he could see other familiar faces as other Pros glance his way. He simply nodded and took his place in line and observed the situation. The front of this building which looked like some kind of bank was barricaded with what looks like any furniture the gang out find. Police lights and helicopters danced over the reflective windows and he could see some moving shadows inside. He groaned the bright lights were not helping his headache and he pushed back the intensive thought that it may be getting worse. Within minutes the door opened and a figure approached the police line and shouted.

“Welcome to your doomsday hero's” The voice was amplified and bounded off the walls of the other building in complete clarity. Immediately all the Pros were on high alert. The gang was known for pulling stunts like this and failing their resolve to end hero society was strong.

The leader of the Pro's stepped forward. A man Todoroki had never had the pleasure of meeting but attended many meetings with. He had a teleportation-type quirk and was known as the multiplier.

“We have gathered as you said now let the hostages go and we can proceed.”

The figure laughed and pointed a weapon to the line of pros and spoke. “You call these Pros I bet I could take every one of them with my eyes closed, what happened to the good old days where only one could instill fear in the heart of us.”

Todoroki sighed he was tired of hearing this type of speech from gangs. But soon the man continued. “Why I see nothing but failed offspring of those who had all the power and look at them now all lined up ready to get executed.”

The words sparked something in Todoroki and he could feel his left side spark for a moment, he quickly stopped the flame and shook his head. But the man continued.

“Fine let the hostages go we have no use for them.” As the hostages were released comfort heroes quickly gathered them and took them aside to be evaluated and tend to any wounds they had received.

With a sudden crack, the pavement they stood on began to shake and crumble with lightning-fast reflexes all of the pros dispersed many activating their Quirk to stay grounded

Todoroki build a nice bridge a few feet off the ground and stood on it and watched as the earth opened up most likely a Quirk from one of the gang members still inside the building.

The chief commander spoke. “Is it a fight you want?”

The figure lowered its head as dark clouds began to gather over them the distant sound of thunder could be heard and as the figure raised it to head their eyes black and glazed over he simply stated “it’s time.” And the battle began.

Rain began to pour as the gang member-initiated his weather-type quirk and soon all of the pros were in a rainstorm. Todoroki wiped his hair from his eyes and set his eyes on the visual of the front of the building. Soon many members of the gang were beginning to exit the building activating their type of quirks and you could see a full battle was in store for him.

Todoroki hated heavy rain. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and unless it was humid, made part of his quirk completely useless. Luckily, he still had some cover from the rain, but the strong wind and rain made him regret designing a sleeveless hero outfit.

Whatever. He didn’t have time to be cold. Todoroki knew he was in danger when a fist connected with his torso and he was knocked prone. As he gathered his vision again, he could see a short-haired man had him pinned to the ground and was getting covered in some type of grey substance he realized it was cement. He acted quickly and activated his fire to melt the thick substance and he soon kicked the gang member off himself and darted into the nearest alley to recover and rest. He knew he was bleeding when thick crimson began to block his vision.

Luckily for him, all of the pros combined with the strength and protection of others quickly defeated the gang, and what was a battlefield within minutes could be seen as a failed attempt to go back to their old ways where one hero was in charge.

---

He doesn’t remember how he got back to his agency he just remembered the bright fluorescent lights of their little medic and the white cotton sheets which were slowly turning red. He closed his eyes as he felt the healing power of one of his nurse’s power course through him and within seconds the pounding of his head lesson to a degree.

He sat up groggy and winced in pain as he could feel his muscles were sore and the congestion, he had been fighting back all-day shift in his face. The cheerful nurse he had hired spoke up “Well sir I’ve healed all of your injuries but overall, the battle was a success.”

He nodded and smiled a little he looked at the clock across the room and saw it was midafternoon he pushed himself off of the bed allowing his feet to connect with the floor and slowly walked back to his office.

Once he lowered himself in his chair, he took a minute to collect his thoughts however it was at that moment the itch decided to rear its head again and he found myself hunched over in a pre-sneeze limbo.

“Heh’Psh’ieww!!! Heh-ISHieww! hih’PSH! Hih’PSHH!!”

As the sneezes racked through his body, he felt the tight grip he normally has on his fire slip, and as he sneezed for a final time a rush of flame burst from the young Pro. Like his father, the flames licked the side of his face and his eye began to tear from the immense heat. As he looked at his arms, he could see the flame-resistant material struggling to stay intact, this flame was even hotter than his father's….as he sniffed and tied to gain control of his quirk, he heard a sound. He flicked his eyes over and saw the source of the noise.

A curly green-haired man was standing in his office with his mouth agape and was producing a sound that could only be described as a skipping record. Todoroki closed his eyes and put his head in his hands as he regained control of his quirk and said with a muffled voice.

“Hello, Midoriya.”

----

[reddiamondgamer]

A Wrightworth Fic 3

(Finally, I was struggling with this chapter since I aim for 4 pages per chapter in Google Docs. TW Panic attack)

Beginning Previous Next A03

_____________________________

Any day that he spent with his friends or his Dollie was a good day in Phoenix’s book, though, he was pretty sure he’d suck at keeping track of anything in a book about himself. He couldn’t even put together a timeline unless he had something else other than his faulty memory to look back on.

It’d been about a month, he thinks, since the arcade meet up with Miles and Larry and Butzworth, the inflatable metallic purple alien, had since passed in an unfortunate accident otherwise known as falling on him and causing him to pop. Phoenix had hung up a piece of the deceased alien’s face on his wall and was currently glaring at it while he did what felt like expelling his lungs through his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d lost his Cold Killer X medicine after lunch with Dollie, feeling like it was just him being clumsy and forgetful again. Dollie had promised him that she’d find the cold medicine for him, but that was a couple days ago now and he was sure that Dollie had given up by now.

A knocking on his door drew him out of his cold-induced trance and he got up to see who it could be, hoping it was Dollie with the medicine.

He tripped over a small pile of clothes as he made his way to the door, his face returning the pattern of knocking with one loud thud followed by a quiet “ow”. Pushing himself back up, he opened the door and spotted Miles’s handsome- no, not handsome, well, yes handsome, but that’s not the right thing to be thinking right now, face. He wasn’t sure why Miles was looking at him like he was a stranger though, that was weird.

“Excuse me, I am seeking my acquaintance, he goes by the name of Phoenix Wright?”

“Miles, I’m Phoenix.” He answered, brushing his hair out of his face. His bedhead must’ve really confused Miles or something.

“I am making a note to ensure you never run short of hair gel, you are not recognizable without it.”

“I’m sick, why would I be using hair gel?”

“Why would you not be? You’ve done many other ridiculous things in my presence, Wright, hair gel is no different for you.”

Phoenix could only let out an exasperated groan in response, stepping to the side so Miles could enter. He noticed his friend’s upturned nose at the sight of his dorm room, a frown prominent on his face, which still was not handsome and he’d never think about that ever again.

“I feel as if I am entering a bird’s nest.”

“Gee, why not help me lay a few eggs then? You’ve clearly got your feathers all ruffled by being here, I can tell by your neck frills.”

Miles’s face tinted red and his eyebrows lowered while his eyes narrowed slightly, turning his head away from Phoenix. He wondered if Miles really would inflate like a bird, letting out a laugh at the thought.

“...I’ll have you know it is called a cravat, you uneducated plebeian.”

“If I’m a plebeian, then what’re you?” Phoenix tilted his head and rubbed his chin in thought. “Are you a publican here to tell me the taxes have increased?”

“How on earth- nevermind, you’ve always retained odd information.” Miles pinched the bridge of his nose, his head shaking as he clearly fought a smile.

Phoenix’s nose suddenly began to burn and he inhaled air before quickly burying his nose in the bend of his elbow, several small sneezes being projected into his pink sweater. He coughed afterwards, his diaphragm aching heavily. He hated being sick, he didn’t like all the sneezing, the struggles to breathe, the copious amounts of snot oozing from his heated nose.

“Have you not been taking medication?”

Phoenix shook his head in response, unable to verbally respond with how clogged up his throat felt. He grabbed a plastic cup off the counter and quickly filled it up in the small kitchen sink, drinking the water until some dribbled down his chin.

“I lost it a couple days ago, Dollie was supposed to be helping me find it.”

“Is Dollie her actual name?”

“No, no,” Phoenix coughed again, his face flushed from a fever that was popping up, “her name is Dahlia, Dahlia Hawthorne.” He didn’t notice the look of shock and horror that spread across Miles’s face, distracted by his phone ringing.

He answered the phone with a nasally greeting, his mood visibly dropping when he heard who it was. He slipped the phone back in his pocket then grabbed a medical mask, stomping towards the door.

“I’ll be right back, some guy wants to talk to me.” Phoenix said before slamming the door.

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

With that resounding slam, Miles was left alone in Wright’s dwellings, his thoughts spiraling. He was filled with worry and dread at the thought of Wright being in a relationship with a woman that had murdered her own sister and framed someone else, a woman who had faked her own kidnapping years prior with help of another. Dahlia Hawthorne was very much not good news.

He glanced around the room he was in just to ground himself, noting that every single object or item in the room forced him to remember that Wright, his soulmate and childhood friend, was most definitely not safe. He could feel himself struggling to breathe and had to flee the building, his heart racing and his surroundings growing blurrier. His fists clenched and unclenched in an attempt to stimulate his nerves. The ground would not slip away from him, not today and not any day in the future.

The birds were chirping without a worry, but the leaves had turned up to expose their veins as clouds rolled in and all he could think about was the fact that Wright had no umbrella. He adjusted his cravat with a sullen expression, his eyes red with tears that refused to flow.

His soulmate, his Phoenix Wright, was enamored with a terrible, terrible excuse for a human being. Hold on, his soulmate, perhaps there was something that could be done with the chain that bound the two. He looked down at the ever-twinkling golden chain, reaching to touch it with his fingers, but feeling it pass through his grasp with a cold breeze, similar to that he’d heard of ghost encounters. Focusing on the bond, he envisioned Wright in his mind, the atrocious spiked hair and the mismatched blue and brown eyes being the first things to appear. The rest of his face followed suit, completing the imagined picture of his soulmate. He’d never given much thought about the chain before, but found that opening up to it resulted in something unexpected.

Wright’s feelings flooded him, a sense of irritation and contempt washing over him and nearly knocking him off balance. He could just barely find a slight tinge of confusion coming from Wright as well, wondering if maybe what he’d just done was not a one-way flow. Further anger boiled over his friend, forcing Miles to sit down on the dirty steps that led up to Wright’s dorm. His head was spinning and his surroundings were screaming at him, every little noise, every small cloud of smells, they all seemed to be attacking him, his senses being overwhelmed.

Miles’s world was going darker, yet darker, his body slowly shutting down. He forced himself up onto his feet, stumbling down the steps and making his way to a quiet area. His salvation in the moment turned out to be a small public bathroom, locking the door behind him as he collapsed to the floor. His breathing grew more uneven as he was disturbed by the ringing of his phone.

Lifting his phone from inside his coat pocket, he looked at the caller identification, spotting a professional image he’d snapped of the detective that often worked with him. He brushed aside his own reflection of his face falling apart in favor of answering the phone without even a polite greeting.

“Heya, sir! We just took in a suspect from a murder case and he keeps mentioning you! Do ya know anyone by the name of Phoenix Wright?” Gumshoe’s voice was boisterous through the speaker, yet Mile’s heart grew cold with fear.

“That I do.” He finally managed to get out, if not a bit hoarse.

“You sound rough, pal, you okay?” How could such a dense detective always manage to see right through him? He felt as if the entire world was closing around him.

“I am fine, detective, tell me of what happened this instant.”

“Right. Well, this guy was found near the body of another college student named Doug Swallow. We’re waiting on the autopsy report right now, but it’s clear as day your pal’s a murderer, sir. He’s in the detention center right now.”

Miles wasn’t sure if he was capable of responding further without dissolving into an unprofessional babble, simply humming in response and ending the call. Gumshoe had always possessed a loud voice and it was only now that that voice was assisting in his current downfall, the words echoing throughout his mind and ringing in his ears. Wright had been arrested for a murder. He could feel something near devastation through the chain that now burned his wrist. What could he do now?

[soft-for-them]

a cup of tea for the handsome man ♡ geordi la forge x reader

anon: OKAY concept: Geordi had a failed valentines date, and reader (who crushes hard) is like “bruh hang out with MEEE” a la Taylor swifts “you belong with me”

gender neutral reader, geordi ain’t straight,

gif doesn’t really match but it’s cute ok! not proof read.

‘Maybe you can accompany my friend Geordi La Forge today.’ Data bluntly asks as you both walk down a stone covered street.

‘Data, I swear to the stars, stop!’ you whine to your android friend who currently still wears his yellow dress uniform despite it being shore leave.

‘I am only asking because Geordi seems to be by himself.’ Data holds up the cat carrier that he holds, wiggling his finger to Spot, ‘Please calm down Spot.’

You are Lieutenant (Y/n) (l/n), though most people call you (y/n) and ever since you have met Data you have both been found friends. You are interested in robotics and androids, so the friendship came naturally.

However, Data doesn’t have many out of work friends. He mostly hangs around you, Spot and a very handsome man by the name of Geordi La Forge.

‘Just because I’m your friend does not mean I’m automatically his, Data.’ You tug at the draw strings of your oversized hoodie straighten the out strings.

‘Yes, but you are technically mutuals for you both have me as your friend.’ Data looks at you with a blank stare, ‘And you are normally alone so you need another friend.’

If you haven’t been friends with the yellow tinted man then you would have told him off.

It is somewhat true; you do spend a lot of time in engineering and most of your really good friends are stationed on different ships. But you want to spend you shore leave on earth doing something fun, not awkwardly trying to befriend Geordi La Forge, a man you have fancied for quite a while.

If Data has some more common sense the he would see your heart eyes towards his dear friend but he doesn’t; all he sees is a hermit engineer who needs a buddy whilst Data isn’t around.

‘Data, why has this come on? I’m alone most of the time!’ you have plans and it doesn’t involve trying not to out your crush to a clueless Geordi or Data.

‘I just do not want my friends be lonely.’

Data’s eyebrows frown as you two stop in front of a veterinary practice.

‘Just because me and Geordi will be alone when you take Spot to get her check-up doesn’t mean we will be lonely.’

‘But you will both be alone.’ he deliberates.

‘We will be fine Data.’ You place a hand on your friend’s arm, ‘If you want, we can all meet up after Spot’s check up and I can officially meet Geordi, ok?’

‘I would like that very much (y/n).’ Data sincerely smiles.

He nods his head and then walks into the small vets.

 You shake you head in amusement at your dear friend’s worry as you begin walking down the street.

‘Data, data, data.’ You think with an amused smile blooming on your face.

For about ten minutes you wonder the streets aimlessly, looking at the plants that grown up the shop fronts and the old Roman roads. Benches are in the middle of the ‘roads’ that are really used for pedestrians to walk on, tram cars sliding by the painting like scenery.

Whilst wondering a small alleyway catches your eyes.

It’s not a dingy alleyway with bins and a dead end but it’s actually a little nook filled with cafes and small hobby shops.

Looking both ways you walk across the street into the alley, every bump of the pathway felt even in you tick soled trainers.

Passing a few shops your eyes land on a small round of metal tables, some filled with people, outside a small two-story café.

You walk in, a heartly woman automatically greeting you from the counter at the back. The place is very small and thin but it does not feel claustrophobic. There is a cottage core vibe to it, the place lit up by the huge widows at the front and the fairy lights shaped like hearts.

The downstairs seems to be the place to order food and drink, a peak of a small kitchen at the back can be seen from an open door past the counter.

‘Um hello.’ You say back to the woman whilst you wipe your feet on the welcome mat, ‘What’s good here?’

‘Well first are you allergic to anything my dear?’

You answer the question and tell the woman what kind of tea you like.

‘Well because today is Valentine’s day, we have our cake special that I think is perfect for you!’

You look at the slice of cake the woman points at in the little display case.

‘It’s freshly baked, I made it just this morning!’

‘Yeah, sure, it looks nice. I’ll have a slice.’ You need to indulge yourself every now and then.

She slides a cup of your favourite tea and a slice of cake to you. You pay with you card, leaving a good tip.

‘The upstairs is the best place sit.’ She says as you take your plate and cup.

 With a nod you ascend the steps to the upstairs to see the prettiest room you’ve ever seen.

The room’s roof is a giant glass window and there is many potted plants that look like they’re growing up the walls. Tables are littered around, each one with a different flower on it, some customers are using the built in holo computer screens.

You find a small two four person table near the back and you sit down breathing in the faint smell of pollen that doesn’t actually tickle your nose into a sneeze.

‘Hum, could be fake plants?’ you think as you take a sip of your tea.

.

.

For a while you just eat and browse the holo screen at your table, emersed and doom scrolling through blogs about robotics.

You had sent a message to Data telling him where you are and telling him to come here when he was done with Spot’s check up.

It must have been half an hour at staring at the screen. You had finished the pink decorated cake and your tea was almost done as well.

With achy eyes you peer up and look around the room.

There seems to be the same people albeit a couple new faces.

In on corner to your right is a mother with her child who you hadn’t noticed, an older person sits clicking on old keyboard laptop and a new younger man sits waiting next to the giant window overlooking the alleyway.

Even though this man is far away you can tell that he’s a good looking man. Said person wears a short sleeve patterned button down reminiscent of the 1990’s, the blues stripes bold against the cottage core interior of the café. The shirt is tucked into some brown slacks, that are rolled up at the bottom and held up by a shiny black belt. Block coloured peek out from his trousers and equally shiny black shoes.

If you would try to pull off such a vintage outfit but all you ever wear is your work uniform or oversized hoodies, making you look like a in debt college student. Right now you look like a in debt college student in your Starfleet branded hoodie and shorts that are comfy but childish in colour scheme.

‘I bet this café attracts all the fashionable types.’ You think sipping the last of your tea only to spit out in surprise.

The man in the retro shirt turns around only to reveal a very familiar yellow and silver visor.

‘Fuck, he’s even more good looking!’ your mind becomes scrambled, ‘Was he always there? Does he know I’m here? Should I go over and say hi?’

Your eyes stay on Geordi as he keeps on peering out of the big window, him looking like he’s waiting for someone.

‘Maybe he’s waiting for Data?’ it’s a logical assumption that Data told him to meet him in the café you are in. A check up for a cat doesn’t take that long right?

 You leave you cup and plate on you table and start to edge your way over to the handsome man.

You’re not sure if what you’re doing is right but you step next to his table, with a big smile on your face and hand raised up in a too enthusiastic wave.

‘Geordi La Forge, right?

Geordi’s snaps up to yours, his face looks slightly confused in that puppy kid of way.

‘Sorry, I’m (y/n), Data’s friend.’ you stop waving so you don’t look so odd, ‘Um, I saw you here and wanted to say that Data will be coming here after Spot’s vet appointment. Sooooo, if you want to join, my table is free.’

Whilst you happily talk Geordi’s face morphs into a sweet smile. You quickly look down to his two person table to see to sets of cups and two slices of heart themed cupcakes, clearly for another half.

‘Though you don’t have too if you have plans.’

‘He talks about you a lot.’ Geordi declares, ‘Too much sometimes.’

‘Well I am a brilliant person.’ you lean against the window trying to look cool but the hoodie you drown in just makes you look dishevelled.

There is an awkward pause before you just stop leaning as start walking away.

‘I see you might be busy, so I’m over here-‘ you point over to your table, ‘-yeah.’

With some more muttered pleasantries you shuffle back to your table hoping tha he doesn’t find you too weird. With you bum on the seat you wave you hand at the holo screen unlocking it from it’s sleeping state before quickly looking up to catch Geordi looking at you.

With another odd wave you hunch down and resume reading an article cybernetic enhancements in the medical field but every ten minutes or so you have to look up at Geordi.

One time you looked up he was staring out the window, another time he was stirring his drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and now you’re looking at him rapidly typing out something on a communicator.

With your tea and cake devoured you quickly stand up to go downstairs to order some more tea. You look around and hope that no one takes your table, the tope floor is pretty empty now, and the holo screen on the table is still on.

It takes about five minutes but you bound up the stairs with not one but two cups of tea.

Hurried you head over to Geordi’s table and slide him one of you cups, making the man look up to you with another look of confusion.

‘Hot tea turned cold isn’t the best so I got you another cup.’ and with another small wave you walk back your table.

‘Smooth (y/n), he’s going to like me now!’ a Cheshire cat grin blooms as you take a sip of you drink.

As you fangirl/fanboy over your ‘move’ a person slides in the seat opposite you.

 ‘Is it still ok to sit.’ Geordi asks holding his cup of tea.

‘Well you’re technically already sitting down.’ you turn of the holo screen with your hand, ‘But you can stay, if that’s what you’re asking.’

You look at Geordi, gaze unchanged, confidence oozing out of you.

‘I’d imagine that Data will be here soon.’ you lean forward a bit, ‘So we should acquaint each other before he does.’

‘I guess you already know who I am. I know who you are… thank you for the tea by the way.’

‘I don’t want to be a nosy so and so but why were you alone.’ You ask hoping you don’t sound rude.

‘I can ask the same thing to you.’ He quips back.

‘Had nothing to do and went exploring, found thing place. You?’ you press.

‘I got stood up.’ He plainly puts it, ‘Was chatting to someone in engineering and yeah…’

Geordi looks deflated as he gulps his drink.

‘Which dick stood you up, I can set my robot on them.’ he looks up at you with a bright smile.

‘You have a robot?’

‘It’s my thing.’

Another pause o silence happens before Geordi speaks.

‘Lieutenant James Sibell.’ as he says the name a disgusted scoff comes from you lips, your face distorted in disgusted.

‘That bastard man!’ you hand fly up in a comical rage, ‘Good job you have me to keep you company.’

Geordi laughs at your words, a small pit of joy growing in his heart, he must tell Data later that he has a good friend in you and that he should have introduced you two sooner.

.

.

Data step up the stairs of the café, spot in her cat carrier, and a slice of cake.

He only bought the cake out of curiosity, the cake having rainbow icing and little sugar heart shaped sweets on top.

When he gets to the top he automatically scans the room. His eyes land on a table near the back, his two closets friends chatting together, both sitting rather close.

.

.

.

i have no clue if this is good. it’s long-ish but that doesn't necessarily equate to it being the best.

please tell me if it’s good or not.

[izukuwus]

Rest (and Other Things You Force On Your Boyfriend)

A/N: So this is technically a sequel to Bunny Eyes but it can be read completely standalone. There’s no real reason for him to be a bunny in this other than I Wanted Him To Be, and honestly, what else do you even NEED?

man I just wanna snuggle with nearly every iteration of this bunny boi. send cuddles pls.

Summary: In which your bunny boyfriend catches your flu and now you’re taking care of him. (sick!bunny!Izuku x reader)

Warnings: issa sickfic, izu has the flu. no emetophobia, not even in passing, mostly just fever and discussion of taking meds

Word Count: 2000-ish

~

Oh, you wish you could find the strength within yourself to not feel guilty.

It's his fault! You told Izuku not to kiss you and tried to push him away and now he's got the flu and you're the one taking extra-good notes to teach him the information after class while he's pretending to rest all day!

And yet. And yet. You still feel guilty about letting him get sick.

"If I'd only been stronger," you wail dramatically as you walk back from shopping with Ochaco and Tsuyu. They'd gone with you to help you purchase proper boyfriend-doting supplies, which definitely didn't include proper soup ingredients or a cute new dress that happens to look like a fashionable version of scrubs so you could act as his nurse proper.

Ochaco pats your shoulder in solidarity. "You tried your best, [name]-chan. It was only a matter of time before Deku-kun got sick, too."

Tsuyu places a thoughtful finger to her chin. "He was pretty stubborn about taking care of you when you were still sick, kero. Did he even wear a mask when he was taking care of you?"

"No," you groan. "I insisted, but he's an idiot."

Ochaco rolls her eyes as she opens the door for your poor arms-full self. You smile and curtsy before walking through to enter the dorm's common area, where you promptly drop your shopping bags. "Izuku!"

"Oh no," comes the quiet response as green rabbit ears snap to attention, followed by a (thankfully muffled) sneeze. Izuku appears to have dragged himself downstairs to study, a medical mask over his mouth and nose as he pores over an open notebook. At his side, having just been lowered in defeat on sight of you, is a hand weight. "I-I thought you were going to be gone all day?" he tries sheepishly.

You stomp across the room to him, not coming to a stop when you reach him. Instead, you scoop him up off the couch, eliciting a surprised yelp as he clings to you. "[N-name!]" he whines. His drawn-out complaint is cut off by his own racking coughs, and you're careful to tighten your bridal carry until his body stops shaking.

"You're going to rest," you demand when his coughs have calmed. "Honestly, how did you even get down here? When I was still sick I could hardly make it to the bathroom in my room!"

"I'm on a lower floor than you?" he says, though it sounds more like a question than an answer. You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. "...fine. I came downstairs to take my trash out and couldn't make it back up myself, so I sent Shouji-kun up to my room with my key so I at least had something to do while I recovered."

"Unbelievable," you mutter. "You're supposed to be resting. I told you I'd do all that for you when I got back from shopping, didn't I?"

"B-but I'm tired of resting," he complains.

You turn and glance over your shoulder at your very amused girl friends. "Sorry, can I ask you girls to take my shopping up to my room for me? It looks like I've got some nurse duties to handle—"

"I-I can handle myself at least while you—" Izuku begins to protest weakly, struggling a bit in your arms.

You sigh and cut him off. "Izuku, I love you, but if you don't be quiet and let me carry you to bed so you can get some rest and then actually get some rest, I will literally call your mom."

He lets out a squeak, hiding his face in your chest. "Got your key with you?"

He nods. "In my pocket," he mumbles.

You bump the elevator button and carry him up to his room, humming gently as you approach his door. You're careful to fish out his room key and unlock his door, and then more careful not to break said door down when you wrench it open with one foot.

"Alright, health check, bunny boy," you say sweetly after dropping him on his bed. "Cooperate honestly and I'll reward you, alright?"

He nods, pulling his medical mask off to reveal his pout and twitchy nose. "What kind of reward?"

"Depends on how well you cooperate with me, Zu-kun," you chirp as you set about getting the stuff you need and shutting (and locking, just in case) his door. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Dunno."

"How's your appetite?"

"Bad."

"Can I convince you to eat a few crackers?" you ask. Izuku groans at the question, about to complain, but you don't give him the chance. "Reward, Zu-kun," you remind him gently.

"I-I might be able to stomach a few."

"Don't worry, I'll make it worth it," you hum, reaching for the sleeve of crackers and taking one between your teeth, careful not to bite down as you cross the room to him. You waggle your eyebrows at him suggestively as you sit down, leaning in close. It's hard not to laugh when his already surely fever-flushed face goes even redder when he realizes what you're suggesting, and even harder not to squeal when he takes the opposite corner of the cracker in his teeth and pulls it away from you.

It'd be seductive if only he didn't look so pathetic right now, which you mean in the most loving way possible. He's still your adorable muscly bunny boy, but he's also visibly ill and very carefully nibbling on a saltine cracker held in both hands.

When he's forced down the whole thing, you press a slow kiss to his forehead, frowning when you realize just how hot he feels. "Izu, honey, I'm going to take your temperature," you say, grabbing the thermometer from the kit.

Sure enough, his temperature reads feverish, at a concerning 100.6 degrees. You worry your lip, glancing between him and the thermometer.

"How is it?" he croaks. You shove a water bottle towards him with a meaningful look and reach for your phone. Luckily, you have Recovery Girl's number after you got sick, so calling her won't be an issue. 

"You're fine, honey," you say gently, ruffling his hair. "You should lay down. I'm going to get your medicine and your things from downstairs, okay?"

The absolute angel doesn't suspect a thing, letting you guide him to lay down. He refuses the blanket, which is fair.

"When I'm back, I'll have you take your meds and then we can cuddle for a bit, alright, 'Zu-kun?"

He nods.

"Okay, do you want the fan on?"

Another nod. You flip the switch for his ceiling fan on your way out, careful not to lock yourself out, and wait until you're out of the elevator on the bottom floor to make the call.

You tangle one hand through your hair as Recovery Girl answers with one of her trademark sighs. "Please tell me he hasn't broken something while he has the flu."

"He hasn't!" you say as you set about gathering his things. Bakugo glares at you (for some reason) as he pointedly drowns the room in disinfectant spray. "No, no broken bones. I'm calling because his fever's gotten worse."

"How bad is 'worse', exactly?" 

"You told me to call if he got above 100.4."

"And?"

You nervously thumb the thermometer in your pocket. "100.9. He's mostly acting calm and going along with treatment, but apparently he came downstairs earlier while I was out and couldn't make it back to the elevator, and honestly, he's so stubborn that actually listening to me is almost more concerning, and I—"

"Calm down, sweetheart. I'm on my way over. You know the drill, make sure he's not dehydrated and in bed, and give him a Tylenol."

"Yes ma'am. He hasn't taken his regular medication yet, I'm about to give it to him once I get back upstairs with his things. Thank you, I'll do all that right away."

"See you as soon as I've finished handling this student, dear," she says, and you're answered with a click as she hangs up. You pocket your phone, scoop up the last of his things, and scurry back up the stairs to your hopefully resting boyfriend.

When you return to him, he's laid down on his bed, facing the wall with his phone in his hand. You're not sure whether to be annoyed that he isn't asleep yet or glad you don't have to wake him to get him to choke down his own disgusting flu medicine.

A single ear turns in your direction when you enter, and you note with amusement that his tail also twitches at your arrival. "Recovery Girl is on her way over," you say gently. "I've got your regular medicine and some Tylenol to kick your fever down. I'm sorry I called her, but you're running a bit too high for comfort and I don't know what else I can do so..."

Izuku makes a noncommittal hum. You suppose he's only half awake, so you set down his things and lean over him, waggling both bottles of medicine within his line of sight. "Come on, up and at 'em for just a moment longer, okay?"

"I thought you wanted me to rest," he whines weakly, slowly sitting up with a pout.

You sit where he'd been laying. "Flu medicine and Tylenol first. We gotta deal with your fever, 'Zu-kun." 

He whines, but lets you give him the right doses of each and set the bottles of medicine aside. Before you can get up, though, he's laid back down, arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your lap. "C-can I sleep here?" he mumbles, not looking up at you.

"I promised you a reward for cooperating with me, right?" you hum, winding fingers through his hair to gently scratch his scalp. "Rest as long as you need to, baby."

"Thank y'. Lo'you." His words turn to slurred speech as he snuggles up close, and as you play with his hair, you rest your head against the wall. It's not long before your eyes drift closed and your fingers still in his hair, resting at the base of his ears.

When you wake up next, you're still sat there with Izuku snuggled up to your stomach. He opens one eye to look up at you blearily before wordlessly yanking you down so you're lying next to him. Before you can respond, he's laid on top of you, his face buried in your chest as his ears tickle your face.

"'Zuzu—" you start, wriggling in his vice grip.

"You already had this flu strain, so you're safe," he mumbles back.

"Get your ears out of my face before I bite them." Despite your words, you press a kiss to the space between his ears.

"Mm, what if I'd like that? You should know by now that I—owww..."

You snort, releasing his ear from your teeth and pressing a kiss to the spot you'd just bit. "Love you~"

You can actively feel him pouting against your chest, grumbling something suspiciously similar to "I guess I love you too". You giggle, nuzzling the top of his head as he flattens his ears back.

"I'll make it up to you when you're feeling better, Izuku," you promise before the both of you fall back asleep. He doesn't respond, but his tail and ears both twitch at your words. You coax him back to sleep with soft kisses, noting out of the corner of your eye that there's a note tacked carefully on the headboard. You snatch it up, careful not to disturb the bunny as you read.

It's a note from Recovery Girl. Apparently, she came by while you were still asleep. She's just chiding you for both being asleep when she arrived, and left you a few instructions. You let the note fall , deciding it's best to address it later. For now, you've got a nap with your sick boyfriend to deal with, and if he rests better with you in his arms, well, who are you to deny him?

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