#a normal amount I have a fever don’t worry

[kokokuroro]

Did Noctis and Prompto get associates degrees between high school and the start of the game or what because there are two years unaccounted for more or less TELL ME NOMURA

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IN SICKNESS AND IN CARE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Literally none!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you catch a cold and try to hide it to avoid being a burden, Logan quickly notices you're not your usual sunny self. Despite your protests, he steps in to take care of you, showing a softer side as he insists you don't have to carry everything alone. In Logan's gruff but tender way, you learn that even the strongest need someone to lean on sometimes.

Based on this request.

THE COOL AIR THAT DRIFTED THROUGH THE MANSION WAS A PLEASANT REPRIEVE FROM THE USUAL HEAT OF THE DAY, but for some reason, it didn’t quite feel the same. You rubbed your arms, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your normally sunny disposition felt dimmed, and no amount of fake smiles seemed to mask how off you were feeling. Logan had already given you a curious glance at breakfast when you didn’t chatter on about your plans for the day.

He wasn’t the kind of man to prod too much. That wasn’t his style. But as the day dragged on, and you avoided him during training, kept quiet during the team meeting, and all but disappeared into your room, it was becoming impossible for him to ignore.

The door to your shared room creaked open, and Logan stood in the doorway, watching as you sat curled up under the blanket on the bed, tissues scattered around you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your usually bright eyes were dim and watery.

“Alright,” Logan grumbled, his voice rough but gentle, “what’s going on with you?”

You sniffled, rubbing your nose with a tissue before looking up at him. “Nothing,” you mumbled, your voice sounding congested. “I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he moved closer. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been avoiding me all day, and now you’re holed up here lookin’ like death warmed over. What’s goin’ on?”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against the pillow. You weren’t acting like yourself, and you knew it. Normally, you were the ray of sunshine in Logan’s life, always bright and cheerful, bringing a light into his otherwise gruff and hardened world. But today… today, you just couldn’t muster the energy. The weight of the cold was pressing down on you, and it felt as if every part of you was being drained of its usual warmth.

“I caught a cold,” you admitted reluctantly, your voice quieter than usual.

Logan narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the bedpost. “A cold?” he repeated, as if the idea was foreign to him. “Why the hell are you still workin’ if you’ve got a cold?”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “A burden? You think takin’ care of yourself makes you a burden?”

“I just didn’t want to make anyone worry,” you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I know everyone’s busy, and you’ve got your own stuff to handle. I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

Logan let out a low growl, his frustration evident, but not at you. He pushed himself off the bedpost and came to sit beside you on the bed, his hand brushing some hair out of your face. The touch was surprisingly tender for someone with such a rough exterior.

“Darlin’,” he began, his tone softer now, “you ain’t a burden. Not to me. Not to anyone.” His calloused fingers trailed down your cheek, feeling the warmth of your fever. “You’re sick, and that’s all there is to it. You shouldn’t be pushin’ yourself like this.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could say anything, Logan’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and protectiveness flashing across his face.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re fine,” he said, cutting you off before you could protest. “I know you. I’ve been around long enough to know when somethin’ ain’t right, and you ain’t yourself today. You’re burnin’ up, Sunshine.”

A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of your lips when he used his nickname for you. “I’ll be okay, Logan, really. I just need to sleep it off.”

He wasn’t buying it. Not one bit.

“You’re not gettin’ out of this one that easy,” he muttered, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. You could hear him rummaging around, muttering to himself about where the hell Hank kept the damn thermometer.

You groaned softly, sinking deeper into the covers. “Logan, I can take care of myself…”

“Yeah? Well, I’m takin’ care of you now, so deal with it,” he called back from the bathroom. Moments later, he returned with a damp washcloth and a thermometer. He pressed the washcloth to your forehead, the cool sensation soothing your feverish skin.

You squirmed slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the attention. Logan wasn’t exactly the nurturing type—at least, not outwardly—but the way he was hovering over you made your heart swell. You knew he cared, but he rarely showed it in such an obvious way.

“Stop fussin’,” he grumbled as he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. “I ain’t lettin’ you fight this thing alone, so just stay put.”

The thermometer beeped, and Logan took a look at the reading, his jaw tightening. “You’re runnin’ a fever. You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

You shrugged weakly, the energy to argue completely gone. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Logan sighed deeply, his gruff exterior softening for just a moment as he sat back down beside you. “You worry me more when you don’t say anythin’,” he admitted quietly.

His words caught you off guard, and you looked up at him through bleary eyes. Logan wasn’t one for emotional speeches, but there was a raw honesty in his voice that made your chest tighten.

“I can take care of myself, but I ain’t used to people takin’ care of me,” Logan continued, his voice low. “But you… you’re different. You’re the light in all this darkness, and if somethin’ happens to you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He let out a soft, almost inaudible grunt before pulling the blanket up over you. “Damn right you’re not,” he muttered, his tone gruff but tender. “Now, rest. I’ll get you some soup or somethin’.”

As he stood up to leave, you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Logan… thank you.”

He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re welcome, Sunshine. Just remember, you ain’t gotta do everything on your own. You’ve got me now.”

With that, Logan left the room, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of the blankets. You hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of your exhaustion was until now, but with Logan by your side, you finally allowed yourself to rest, knowing he’d be there to take care of you.

And, for once, you were okay with that.

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[gatorbites-imagines]

I’m not picky just wanna be fussed over & cuddle

Peter Parker x sick male reader

Headcanons

You can imagine most Peters in this scenario, though I always write with comic spidey in mind. Aka, adult, own apartment, job, etc. but I don’t think it’s really mentioned in this. At first, I was gonna write about Trafalgar Law, but I feel like he would we way too much doctor, not enough cuddling.

Not that long, but I hope it’s enough.

I have a feeling Peter would realize before you that you were sick. Like, hed notice a change in your scent, your body temperature or how sluggish you would get.

Noticing early on wouldn’t stop a cold obviously, but he would start getting ready for it, most likely without thinking about it. He just catches himself gathering blankets and your favorite snacks that he knows you can stomach when sick.

Would he make a nest out of webs when you got sick? Maybe? It depends on how spidery we imagine this peter. I feel he would at least stick blankets and pillows together to make the most comfortable bed for you to lay in.

He would try to talk you out of going out or going anywhere when he notices you getting sick. But Peter is known for dating stubborn people, so it would shock nobody if you still went out, thinking you were fine, only for you to get really sick.

Hes never mad about it though, Peter loves you too much. He does tsk and crack a few jokes about it, how your neighborhood spider-nurse needs to take care of you.

Peter would patrol and work less when you are sick, or not patrol at all, depending on how bad it is. If crime is at the normal amount he might stay home anyways, just to spend time with you and make you feel seen and cared for.

I feel like his healing factor keeps Peter from catching common colds and fevers, so he doesn’t worry about kissing and cuddling you. He does joke about the kiss being extra germy, which you would have pushed him out of the bed for, if you weren’t so tired.

Peter likes you feed you when you are sick, since he thinks you should use all your energy to fight whatever sickness you have. He also just thinks it’s kinda romantic.

Peter is also the kind of guy who always worries if you’re drinking enough. He doesn’t just bring you water but all kinds of juices, gatorades, whatever you can think of. You always end up with like 10 different drinks by the bed “just in case you want something else babe”

Not having to worry about getting sick also means Peter will cuddle you. Having a very flexible spider boyfriend also means he can fit right around you inside whatever blanket nest you guys have made up.

His hugs are always so comfortable, since he’s got the strength to give you a good squeeze. Peter would spend this time massaging sore areas of your body, if you are fine with that.

The policy that kisses make it better lives through Peter, so your forehead gets a lot of kisses too.

He also keeps your hands inside his own or under his shirt if the fever makes your hands cold, to keep you warm. You always feel nice and toasty with Peter, there’s no way he’s letting his lover freeze.

Peter also never finds you off-putting or gross when you are sick. It’s just human nature to be sick, and honestly? Seeing you sick makes him love you more, since it means you trust him to be vulnerable around him.

So, peter might be somewhat clumsy and messy in the beginning setting it all up, panicking about getting you everything you need. But he’s a great nurse and cuddlebuddy. When he’s done all his research and gotten all the things though, it’s all cuddles and pampering.

Be careful or he’s gonna bathe you too and not let you lift a finger until you are all better again. Make sure to give him extra kisses to show you are thankful, even if he says its just what boyfriends are meant to do.

[multifandomfanficss]

A Classic Sick Fic

Hughie Campbell x sick!supe!reader

Prompt: You’re sick and Hughie forces you to let him take care of you.

Warnings: vomit, other general cold and flu symptoms, inability to breathe

A/N: I’m sick and I just want Hughie to hold me and for some reason I’m unable to figure out why there is a criminally low number of fics for Hughie. I think he’s really neat. He is so special to me. Being the change I want to see in the world or whatever. Please don’t judge any typos I’m so ill. I envisioned this sometime during season 2. Let’s pretend Annie isn’t there for a sec. (I love her tho she is my girlfriend and he is my boyfriend and we are all happy and in love in my silly little head.) Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hughie asked again, while you coughed for probably the millionth time.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You weren’t fine. In truth your cough and endless runny nose were driving you insane. You hated being sick. You couldn’t stand your body not feeling the way it usually does.

“You look miserable- well not to say you look bad, well you do look bad, but not in the way that- I’m gonna just stop talking before I dig myself into a bigger whole.” He shifts awkwardly.

“It’s okay, Hughie. I feel like shit.” You sigh, well as much of as sigh as your body can let out while your nose is this stuffy.

“Can I do anything to help?” He asks.

A hug. You really wanted a hug, but you didn’t want to get him sick. You also didn’t know how to ask without making it awkward. You didn’t really know what you and Hughie were. You felt like more than just friends, but you’d never talked about it. It was hard when you were on the run from Vought. If you were being honest you couldn’t really even afford to be sick right now. If you were sick, you couldn’t use your powers and Butcher wouldn’t want to keep around a useless supe. It’s already pretty useless enough that you can even get sick. Other supes are bulletproof.

“No, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” You fake a smile, coughing again.

“No can do. I never stop worrying about you.” He smiles, but his tone is very serious. A blush creeps up on your face, but it’s easy to mistake your cheeks heating up for a fever.

You start to cough again, but this time it doesn’t stop. You have a coughing fit that leaves you gasping for air. You reflexively reach out for Hughie’s arm. He takes your hand in his, rubbing your back with his other hand.

“It’s okay. Just breathe. Let me help you for once.” He gives your hand a light squeeze. You nod, tears coming to your eyes.

“Trash can!” You yell between coughs. Hughie acts quickly, bringing the trash can to your lap.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He holds your hair back, continuing to rub circles on your back. “Just breathe. Take your time.”

“I’m- so- sorry!” You struggle to get out the words while your hurl into the can.

“Don’t be sorry. You can’t control it. Just let it out. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying to help you through this. I lost count a long time ago of the amount of times you saved my ass. Let me help you. I promise you, I’ve had to deal with much grosser substances for this team than a little vomit.” His calming voice talks you through it, yapping along like this is a totally normal position to be in. Maybe it was. You didn’t know. You weren’t used to anyone caring this much.

“I’ll be right back.” He got up and quickly went to get you some water. You hated being alone, even for a minute, but you gladly took the water. It felt cool on your irritated throat.

“Drink it slowly.” He lets out a soft chuckle, seeing you start to gulp down the water. You slow down at his advice. You know if you drink it too fast you’ll get sick again.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Once you’ve recovered Hughie starts to pull you down into the bed.

“That’s okay. Just rest.” He attempts.

“I can’t. There’s too much going on.” You try to fight your fatigue. Hughie lays down pulling you into his arms. “I don’t wanna get you sick.”

“I’ve got a pretty good immune system. I’m not worried about getting sick. I know our entire world is like kinda imploding, but if you don’t rest you won’t be able to help anyone.” He tries to bargain. You also can’t deny how warm he is, or how your body just melts into his. He’s so comfortable. Laying with him is probably the calmest your brain has felt in weeks. “It’s okay to take a break, (Y/N). Even when the world is falling a part around you, if you don’t stop to take a break you’ll fall a part with it. Trust me. I learned that the hard way. Just relax. Close your eyes. I’m going to stay here and make sure things stay okay as long as we need them to for you to get better.”

You finally stop fighting it and close your eyes. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when you feel Hughie place a kiss on your forehead. Everything will be okay. It has to be.

[likeyourfatherinhell]

two-year-old Hamoud is suffering from a high fever and chest pains. he is being terrorized by the constant sounds of exploding missiles.

if you can spare any amount to donate to his young parents Ayman & Kareman i will draw or write anything you like.

my family all consider Hamoud our little brother. not long ago, Ayman sent me a voice message trying to teach him how to say my name. his laughter is the most beautiful sound i've ever heard. i don't know what to do, i don't know what to say. please help my friends pay for medicine for him. thank you to everyone who shares & is kind enough to donate.

every dollar helps, every reblog and share to other social media sites helps. thank you all. i love this baby so much, he is the sweetest child in the world. he deserves peaceful days and a bright future.

vetted by @90-ghost here and @gaza-evacuation-funds here

💔

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[chidoroki]

Wind Breaker S2EP4

aka: i'm literally on cloud nine right now

Every boy in this darn class is adorable.

RIP to that one dude caught in Anzai’s headlock for like two straight minutes.

“He said he came from out of town, so I thought he’d live a but further. I guess him entering school and his family moving coincided?” “Well, we’ll know when we get there.” The fact we’re at 177 chapters and still dunno the full story about Sakura’s family situation is kinda wild.

Nirei’s panicked screams would be loud enough to wake up anyone.

Pfftt stooppp, Suo’s little surprised face upon seeing Sakura appear is hilarious.

Damn, the anime does real well showing how dark and dreary Sakura’s place looks. I never got that kinda feeling in the manga with how it lacks color.

“I’ve always dealt with crap like this on my own. I’ll get better once I sleep it off. It’s not a big deal.” Aw baby, noooooo! That’s not a good thing!

I love how gentle Suo looks, like you know he desperately wants to help Sakura but he wouldn’t push him to accept it.

Oh, I like how they reflected Suo in Nirei’s phone like that so we could see that brief smile.

The queen has arrived.. lord help me I am not ready for the scenes to come.

Our boy really has such a great groups of friends the way they all bought something for him to help him feel better and take care of that fever.

Why did they go for such horror movie vibes with how Kotoha shows up at his door with the weird first pov and that scream?? My god, his shocked face is priceless!!

Oh thank god he does have working lights in this place at least.

Fffucckk man, I love all of this and ch57, like all Sakura wanted to do when Nirei & Suo came by was to curl up in bed and pass out, but with Kotoha he’s actually engaging in conversation and eating. Yeah he perked up because she brought over a hot meal and our boy loves to eat but as manga!Suo says “while he’s weak right now, he can’t use his mental or physical strength to handle anything that’s not normal for him,” and this entire scene with Kotoha is nothing but normal for him. Sakura’s always been alone so having friends suddenly start caring for him is weird and he shies away from it all, and even though he and Kotoha act all friendly, all the advice and meals she constantly gives him is just status quo at this point for their interactions. He’s used to it and doesn’t feel pressured to act any certain way nor does he feel a need to act strong around her all the time unlike everyone else, which is why I think Suo let her visit Sakura because he knew that too. I doubt he would allow anyone bother or overwhelm Sakura when he’s supposed to be resting despite their desire to help him, such as their entire class, and Sakura’s not even mad that she’s here now and I just really really love this whole scene between them okay?? I love these two. Fuck it, I ship ‘em. I doubt any kind of romantic love is gonna come out of this manga but this trusting and respectable relationship they got going on is precious to me alright. Let me have this because god knows my girl doesn't show up nearly as much as I'd want her to.

Just wanna let y’all know that while I was rambling I had the ep paused on Kotoha slapping the cool patch on Sakura’s head. Fun little frame to pause at.

“Worried about the, ‘I like my buddies now so my body freezes up’ issue?” I shall never get tired of the way she teases him nor those faces she makes when doing so!!

Mmmmmkay, girl, why must you be pretty at every angle.. I swear.

“So why don’t you think of a way to get around it?” “A way to get around it?” “Like delegating the people around you who can act in your behalf.” I feel all weak and soft that he takes her suggestions so seriously. Lift your head up and properly look at people? Done. Learn and use people’s names? Done. Now onto the next step of becoming a good friend and leader.

“There are only so many things one human can do in a limited amount of time.” I really love this line from her too.

“Well, even then.. relying on others, or asking favors from them, may be a bit scary at first.” *shakes manga* Tell me her full story!! Why does she say this?? What has my girl gone through to become so wise?? I know it's all about Sakura's growth and the boys fighting all the time but give me more of our best girl too!!

It feels kinda unfair calling Kotoha best girl when she's literally the only one who shows up frequently and matters but screw it! She's more than earned the title! Aaaahhh!

Teeheee, Kaji’s face when Sakura requests to see him.

A flustered Kaji is an adorable sight to behold.

I love his strange way of trying to explain stuff to Sakura with the coffee and fake ghost.

Kaji being the best senpai!

Not the triple cut on Kaji punching Umemiya smack dab in the face.. HAAHAA!!!

His quick run away too!! God I love this boy so much!!

Aww the flashback of Hiragi taking Kaji to the rooftop to chat.. my boy really learned from the best.

Goddamn, why must the chillest ep be my favorite? I feel so giddy.

[ejzah]

Blunt Force, Part 11

***

“You know, I’m not a big surprise guy. I kind of like to know what’s going on, particularly given recent developments,” Deeks commented. Kensi had arrived at his apartment early Saturday moment, armed with a hot cup of coffee just the way he liked it, a donut, and instructions to get ready for an excursion.

Normally, he’d have a few questions, but three weeks out from his TBI, cabin fever had started to set in. The worst of his concussion symptoms had resolved, but he still wasn’t cleared for most activities that would he’ll pass the time. Definitely not surfing or running, which he’d relied on a lot to deal with both frustration and boredom.

So, he’d changed into jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his phone, and let Kensi drive without any idea of their destination.

“Deeks, relax, I’m not kidnapping you,” Kensi said now, calmly driving along a road lined with a mix of gas stations, apartments, and retail establishments. He dipped his head to glance out the passenger window.

“Well, two minutes ago I wasn’t too worried, but this does kind of look like my old stomping grounds. Please tell me you didn’t stage an intervention with my mother.” He intended it mostly as a joke, but the surrounding area did look pretty familiar.

“Deeks, I’ve never even met your mom.”

“Really?” That surprised him after the amount of time they’d spent together since his injury. He started to ask why, but Kensi signaled to turn into a parking lot with a strip mall, which contained several chain restaurants, a boutique, and supplements store from what he could see. “Did you have a sudden craving for the Chinese buffet?”

“No. Though the crab Rangoon from that place are amazing,” she said.

“I know. I used to come here all the time when I lived in the area,” he told her.

She flashed him an odd look, but didn’t say anything else as she slowed in front of a nondescript gray building and parked towards the back of the parking lot.

“Kensi, where are we?”

“Do you trust me?” she returned, fingers clamping and unclamping around the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” he said without much thought. She hadn’t given him a reason not to.

“It’s a firing range.”

“That’s what I thought, which leads to my next question. Why?”

Putting the SUV in park, Kensi sighed and turned to face him. “We spent a lot of time practicing and training, so I thought being in a familiar environment might, I don’t know, bring up some memories. And if not, it’s a good bonding exercise.”

“And we could do that at the buffet or a walk in the park. Literally, anything else,” he said. Kensi pressed her lips together, staying silent for several seconds.

“Do you trust me?” she repeated, more softly this time.

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t call her on the blatant manipulation. “Ok, let’s go shoot stuff,” he said unenthusiastically.

Kensi rented two lanes for them along with ear protection. When the attendant asked if they needed weapons or ammunition, she said they had their own.

At this time of day, there was only one other patron at the far end of the room. Deeks instantly felt tense at the muted sound of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder.

Once they were set up in their lanes, Kensi removed a gun from her waistband. He instantly recognized the model thanks to way too many cases involving firearms.

“This is your preferred service weapon at the moment,” Kensi explained, offering it to him with the muzzle pointed towards the floor. “You switched from a Smith and Wesson a while back. Here, take it.”

“Guns aren’t my favorite thing,” Deeks drawled, side-eyeing the weapon with distaste.

“I understand, but I’d bet a month worth of dish duties that Hetty will ask for a firearms demonstration, so…” she presented the gun to him again.

With extreme reluctance, Deeks took the gun by the handle. The weight and coolness of the metal didn’t surprise him, but the vague sense of familiarity did. He hadn’t held a gun of any kind in his bare hands in over a decade. It felt odd, not wrong exactly, but certainly not something he enjoyed.

“Why don’t you take a shot?” Kensi suggested.

“Or I could just watch you.”

“Deeks.” Coming up behind him, she cupped his elbows, physically adjusting his arms and hands into the appropriate position. When she stepped back, he missed the warmth again his back. He automatically shifted slightly in a way that felt more natural. Raising his hands a little higher, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet pinged off a piece of metal outside of the target.

“Yep, I’m a natural,” he commented.

“It’s going to take a minute,” Kensi assured him. “Though I’m going to remember how bad that was later on.”

“Sure, keep making fun of the concussed guy.”

“Yeah, you poor baby.” Moving over to her own lane, she removed a second gun from her waistband, adjusted her headphones, and aimed with an impressive amount of speed, shooting several bullets in a row.

She casually stepped back with a smug smile and brought the target forward.

“Wow, that’s impressive. And kind of terrifying.”

“Thank you. Now it’s your turn again.”

“As delightful as your demonstration was, I don’t think I’m going to be any better this time around.” He tried to hand the gun back, but Kensi shook her head.

“Close your eyes and visualize yourself aiming the gun and shooting,” Kensi instructed him, and he followed along as she kept speaking. He’d never taken Kensi for the type to buy into this kind of thing. “You’ve done this a thousand times before. It’s second nature at this point. It’s easy.”

He focused on his breathing, letting his thoughts drift with the sound of Kensi’s voice. He imagined the times when he’d wished he could defend someone over the years. The little girl who got bullied by kids twice her age, the eighteen year old boy hurt in a carjacking, the terrified mom just trying to protect her children. Eleven year old Marty Deeks.

Deeks’ eyes sprang open and he raised his arms, gun held between his hands; everything stilled around him as he aimed and pulled the trigger six times. He lowered the gun, breathing as hard as if he’d just finished a race.

Beside him, Kensi reeled in the target, revealing six bullet holes clustered around the bullseye.

“Wow,” she commented. “I guess that muscle memory kicked in after all.”

Shaking, Deeks pulled the headphones off and shoved them into Kensi’s hands.

“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” he muttered.

“Deeks,” he heard her say, but he pushed past her, ignoring her repeated calls.

***

A/N: Was that too much?

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hey bestieeee I would like to request a super fluffy Tyler x Reader where Tyler is sick and the reader is taking care of him!! With cuddling pleaseeee I want to hold that man

Sick - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1441

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!

It had been a rough morning for Tyler. I could tell from the moment he woke up that something was off. His usually bright, energetic personality had been replaced by a sluggish, congested mess. He tried to brush it off, insisting it was just a “little cold,” but I knew better. The way he sniffled every few minutes, the redness creeping across his nose, and the way he winced with every swallow told me this was more than that. I stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken soup, occasionally glancing over at him sprawled out on the couch. Tyler had wrapped himself in a ridiculous amount of blankets, his head barely visible underneath the pile. He looked absolutely pitiful, and honestly, it was a little adorable. Normally, he was the strong one, always looking out for everyone else. But now, he was the one who needed taking care of.

“Y/N?” Tyler called out weakly from his blanket cocoon. His voice was rough, scratchy, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, babe?” I responded, pouring the soup into a bowl and grabbing a glass of water. I made my way to the living room, where he lay looking like a sad burrito. “What do you need?”

“I feel awful,” he mumbled, his eyes peeking out from beneath the blanket. His face was flushed, his hair a wild mess of dark curls sticking out in every direction. He was always a little disheveled, but today was on a whole new level.

“I know, sweetheart.” I set the bowl of soup on the coffee table and knelt beside him, brushing a few damp strands of hair off his forehead. His skin was burning up. “You’ve definitely got a fever. Let me get you some medicine.”

He made a face, wrinkling his nose like a kid who didn’t want to take his medicine. “It’s fine, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. “Tyler, you’re sick. You need to take something for the fever.”

He sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue, and nodded reluctantly. I kissed his warm forehead before heading to the kitchen cabinet, grabbing the cold medicine and pouring out a dose.

“Here,” I said, handing him the little cup of liquid. He took it with a groan and downed it in one quick swallow, grimacing like it was the worst thing in the world.

“That stuff is disgusting,” he muttered, rubbing his throat.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I know, but it’ll help. Now, come on, try to eat a little soup. You need something in your system.”

He sighed again but sat up slowly, pushing the blankets aside with a heavy groan. I quickly fluffed the pillows behind him and grabbed the soup from the table. “Here, let me help.”

Tyler took the bowl from my hands, lifting the spoon to his lips with a shaky hand. He managed a few small sips before setting the bowl back down with a tired sigh. I could tell he didn’t have much of an appetite.

“That’s okay,” I reassured him, taking the bowl away. “You don’t have to eat it all right now. Just get some rest.”

He leaned back into the pillows, his eyes already drooping as his body relaxed. “I hate being sick,” he muttered. “I feel useless.”

“Hey, you’re not useless,” I said firmly, sitting beside him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re allowed to feel sick, Tyler. Everyone gets sick, even you.”

He gave me a small, tired smile, though I could see the frustration in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being the one who needed help. He was always the strong one, the caretaker, and it clearly bothered him to be on the other side of things.

“Can you stay with me?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He sounded so small, so vulnerable, and it tugged at my heart in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Of course,” I said softly, moving to sit on the couch beside him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tyler shifted slightly, making room for me to curl up next to him. He immediately nestled into me, his head resting on my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. His body was warm—too warm, thanks to the fever—but I didn’t mind. I just wanted him to feel safe, comforted.

“Better?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair, feeling the soft curls slip through my fingers.

He hummed in response, his face pressed against my chest. “You’re the best medicine.”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I try.”

Tyler let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing further into mine as his breathing evened out. I could feel the tension in his muscles start to melt away, his weight settling against me more as he drifted closer to sleep. I stayed still, holding him, not wanting to disturb him. The room was quiet except for the sound of his soft breathing and the occasional sniffle.

As he slept, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, my other hand resting on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. My mind wandered to how rare it was to see him like this—so vulnerable, so dependent on someone else. Usually, he was the one looking out for me, making sure I was okay. It felt good to be the one taking care of him for a change.

Time passed slowly, the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I could feel Tyler’s fever slowly starting to break, his skin cooling slightly under my touch. Every now and then, he would shift in his sleep, his arms tightening around me as if to make sure I was still there. Each time he stirred, I held him a little closer, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.

After what felt like hours, Tyler stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at me, his expression groggy and confused, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

“Hey,” I whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “How’re you feeling?”

He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes. “A little better, I think,” he murmured, his voice still raspy. He coughed softly, wincing as he did. “How long was I out?”

“A couple of hours,” I said, glancing at the clock. “You needed the rest.”

He sighed, shifting to sit up a little more, though his movements were slow and deliberate, like he was still half-asleep. “I hate being sick. I feel like I’m just... wasting time.”

I shook my head, smiling at him. “Tyler, you’re not wasting time. You’re getting better. That’s the most important thing right now.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes soft and full of gratitude. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, reaching for my hand and squeezing it gently.

I felt my heart swell at his words, but I shook my head. “You deserve everything, Ty. I’m just doing what you’d do for me.”

He smiled weakly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “Still... thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I love taking care of you.”

Tyler rested his head back on my chest, sighing contentedly as I held him close. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, my heart swelling with warmth.

For a while, we sat in comfortable silence, Tyler resting against me as I gently stroked his hair. His breathing slowly evened out again, his body relaxing as sleep started to claim him once more. I could feel the fever continuing to fade, his body no longer burning up against mine.

I stayed with him, holding him close, watching as the evening light outside turned into a soft golden glow. The room was quiet, peaceful, and for the first time all day, Tyler looked at ease.

As he drifted off, his breathing steady and calm, I found myself thinking about how much I cherished moments like this. It wasn’t about the grand gestures or the fancy dates—it was about these quiet, intimate moments, where we could just be together, taking care of each other. That was what love was, I realized. It was about being there for each other, no matter what.

And as I lay there, holding the love of my life in my arms, I knew I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

//

REQUESTS OPEN!

[dreamii-yume]

(Pretends that I haven’t been gone for over 8 months)

It is time to eat! 🗣🔥 I have returned! …And what did I miss? 🫡 Not much? Okay, that’s good lol

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Toge Inumaki (Jujutsu Kaisen)

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Yandere | Non-Con/Dub-Con | Referring to Inumaki by His Last Name | Usage of “Senpai” Because I Don’t Know How to Translate Honorifics | Aged-Up Characters | Hurt/(No)Comfort | But It Ended Up Hurting Anyways | Female-Insert Reader | Cheating | NTR | Corruption Kink | A Subtle From of Mindbreak(?) | AU Where Shibuya Incident Never Happened | Reader is kinda menhera herself tbh

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“I’m sorry for not being there to accompany you with your mission, Inumaki-senpai.” Gentle hands ran down his somewhat swollen cheek, before the cold, yet delicate texture of a gauze replaces it and eases the sting. “Dr. Ieiri needed me for something, and it was a priority mission, so…”

“Salmon Roe.” Toge Inumaki replied, almost immediately—Holding out his hand to cut you off as if he already knew that you were about to go on a tangent. For the inexperienced, conversation without words are something of an impossible feat, but for the years that he was mentoring you, Inumaki has gotten confident of your understanding skills. It’s kind of learning process that most of his friends developed overtime, so he’s never worried that both of you would have some form of miscommunication anytime soon.

With that said, you sighed in relief at his innocent gesture. “…Alright, then please allow me to at least use my curse technique on you.” You suggested, but the moment Inumaki felt your cursed energy spiked in an incredible amount, he knew he didn’t have a choice anyway. Not only because it was your job, but he never planned to refuse your technique if you give him a chance to experience it. Just from this close distance alone, he could practically melt at the feeling—Like a warm fire in a winter night, gently embracing his body in a comforting manner.

“…Salmon.”

Rejuvenation as they call it…An innate cursed technique that you’ve developed while you were studying with him at Jujutsu Tokyo High. It’s not much when it comes to combat, since its only special feature is, as the name suggest, rejuvenation—The power to replenish the user’s body of lost cursed energy, and ultimately cutting back whatever physical consequences of the user’s cursed technique is. It was a shame that by Jujutsu regulations, it was considered a “cursed” technique like everyone else’s when in truth, it can very well be compared to a blessing in disguise for people like him.

Call it a senior’s pride or something like that, but Inumaki thoroughly believed that you’ve naturally developed a technique that he can greatly appreciate because he was the one who raised you better as a sorcerer than your own teacher ever did.

To think that you were but an ordinary civilian when you came in here felt like a fever dream. No relations to curses, sorcerers, or anything—Just a rare case of a normal person possessing a higher cursed energy than most people that they were able to see curses from a very young age. You were a chick fresh out of the egg when you arrived, an outsider to the world of Jujutsu, and Inumaki back then just found himself teaching you on a whim.

He loves watching you use your curse technique a lot more than he could ever admit—The control you have on your breathing, heart rate, and flow of curse energy was spectacular. You always make sure that you won’t hurt yourself in the process by giving too much, but at the same time, you knew exactly how much a current person needs for a complete rejuvenation. His favorite part had always been when you’re done, the way your eyes would snap back into your normal cheerful self after being in a trance like nothing happened. It never fails to make him smile.

”…Well, do you feel a lot better? Is there anything else I could help you with?” Your voice quickly got Inumaki back on high alert as he was in a trance himself. He just couldn’t help it sometimes; he could feel your cursed energy flowing in him in just the right amount that it was way too comfortable to just ignore.

Inumaki tilts his neck in a snap, feeling a satisfying crack from each side before giving you a thumbs up. “Pollock Roe.” He said with confidence to mask the embarrassment he feels inside. He would never say it straight to your face, but as someone who receives this treatment from you a lot, it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that he was addicted to the feeling. He’s a bit…sensitive on how you will react to this information, so he’ll keep it to himself for now.

“Well, that’s great then~!” You said, as he felt your observant eyes on him again—Constantly looking for any injury you might’ve missed, but your work was as flawless as ever. “At this point, please just get plenty of rest as always. If you notice anything else that feels wrong, please refer to Dr. Ieiri as soon as possible.”

Inumaki couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way you speak during work mode, it’s professional but it just wasn’t the normal cheeky junior he knew. So, with a mischievous look on his face, Inumaki pulled on your cheek slightly with judging eyes. “Mustard Leaf~?” He teased as you flinched at the contact.

“Ow, ow!” You exclaimed, yelping like a kicked animal until Inumaki let go eventually. In an instant, you pouted and rubbed on your slightly reddened cheek. “W-What was that for, seriously…!?”

Inumaki only pointed at you nonchalantly with two fingers. “Tuna, Tuna.” He stuck out his tongue which only puts an irritated vein on your forehead—But somehow, you knew what he was trying to say.

Instead of snapping like how you originally planned, you sighed. “I know, I know…” You said, eventually smiling in defeat. “But it’s work, you know? I have to be prim and proper when it comes to work.”

Inumaki hummed, eyes glancing to the side as if he hadn’t learned his lessons at all—In fact, he just wanted to catch your attention, that’s all. “…And you should be careful around your own work too!” Then came in you scolding him in the end. “Please stop rupturing your vocal cords every time you go on missions! I am not treating you next time, do you hear!?”

“Salmon Roe~” He heard what you said, but it was like the words go through one ear and escaped to the other—He didn’t have any intention of listening to your advice at all. If rupturing his vocal cords was the minimum requirement to come visit you again, then so be it…Besides, he knows you’re lying anyways. He just can’t see you refusing service to anyone who’s in need of help, what more of it if it was him?

“Ugh, why do I feel like you’re not taking me seriously at all…?” You grumbled under your breath but ending up shaking your head anyways. Eventually though, you smiled in a silly manner, just what Inumaki was hoping for. “No, whatever…Just have a good day, Senpai.”

Hearing that, Inumaki finally gave you his famous close-eyed smile to show his excitement. “Salmon~!” He replied enthusiastically after seeing that familiar attitude of yours for the day and quickly pat your head. You giggled as he hopped off the bed, raising his hand slightly to wave at you as he headed out for the door. “…Kelp.”

With one last smile, you waved back at him before going back to your desk, probably checking for the mission you’re assigned to next.

Honestly, for someone who came from humble beginnings, you were making quite the name for yourself as a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. Non-combatant cursed techniques are rare as it is, and for someone to have one that defies the very definition of a curse and turning it into something of a blessing—It’s no wonder you are highly valued by the higher-ups. It’s hard to imagine that just a few years ago, you were someone relatively unknown and though you did had some help from the teachers like all other students, you still had to teach yourself on how to differentiate between what is a curse and what is not.

Regardless, Inumaki can freely shrug about it now—He was glad you developed a technique that was beneficial to him, and that’s all it matters. You were good friends, on top of being senior and junior back in school, so your relationship with him was undoubtedly better than the rest. Maybe he’s a bit boastful about it, because who wouldn’t want to come home from a long and exhausting mission, only to lay down and be doted on by your cursed technique?

The feeling of a sore throat has been something of a wild fantasy to him ever since you mastered your craft, so what else was there to complain about?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Hornii?

This Sinfic was in one of my WIPs folder (Yes, I have a folder full of unfinished Sinfics and ideas ☠️ I’m a loser) and I had to travel back to the memory lane on what kind of plot I was trying to cook 8 months ago 😭

I think my goal was to write a  Sinfic is that proves that dialogue is not at all needed when it comes to fucked-up love ♥︎

[abysswalkersknight]

Finally finished one of my WIPs! It's been sitting in my drafts for a while so I just spiffed it up a bit.

Basically I starting writing this after seeing a scary mystery movie and a perfectly normal debate with a relative whether it's scarier to be poisoned or unknowingly ingest glass. We're still debating on that, otherwise enjoy!

..............

‘Hmm? Is something amiss Silver?’ inquired Malleus. They were at their usual table in the cafeteria, while he, Lilia and Sebek were already seated with their food, Silver took a bit longer than usual, though glancing at his rumpled hair and drowsier expression seemed to explain his absence well enough. While it was, of course, troubling that Silver had a sleep spell during lunch, Malleus was more concerned about the pitiful amount of food on his charge’s plate ‘are you perhaps feeling ill?’ he says, briefly touching his fingers to the boy’s forehead to check for fever. Silver must’ve still been waking up because all of a sudden he startled violently at the prince’s gentle touch ‘oh, uh, not at all my lord…’ Silver looks down. ‘ah, I don’t remember grabbing this, I must have fallen asleep while standing in line.’

In the background Sebek began to berate Silver for his carelessness though the boy was not at all paying any attention to him while Lilia quietly slid his son a perfectly warm coffee he got earlier. 

‘My, so even in his sleep Silver still drifts towards mushroom risotto.’ marveled the ageing fae, he urges Silver to drink the coffee and smiles as his boy slowly perks up, however Malleus still frowns  ‘are you not going to grab more Silver? You must be famished from all the training you’ve done earlier.’ he says, tapping Silver’s meagre plate for emphasis. His retainer glances back to the endless line and sheepishly averts his gaze ‘it’s alright my lord, I’m not that hungry anyways so I can just eat something after classes’ he quickly murmurs, taking up his fork, but his other guardian was not finished ‘nonsense Silver, one cannot focus on an empty stomach. And from what I recall it will be three hours until both your classes and club activities finish. If you’d like, I'm quite happy to share my food.’ Silver began to fidget slightly at his prince’s persistence ‘no no my lord I couldn’t possibly-’ lifting an eyebrow Malleus could already sense a polite refusal coming so, he politely ignores Silver’s fervent protests and pinches both edges of their plates and quickly switches them, Silver’s plate now had a significantly larger portion of mushroom risotto. Silver sputtered with his hand hovering midair, unsure whether to risk retrieving his original plate or not ‘go on, eat Silver. If you’re unable to eat it all then I’ll simply finish the rest myself.’ Malleus coaxes with a swift bite of risotto. 

Silver sighed fondly, throughout his life the only times his prince paid any attention to the clock were the child’s meal times where the dragon fae would make sure that his charge has had at least three proper meals a day and he’d continuously fuss over Silver like a mother bear if he’d found that the human’s meals were “lacking”. 

‘Oh he was so much worse when you were a wee little babe.’ Lilia would gush whenever Silver mentioned this habit to him ‘back then Malleus would never take his eyes off the clock at home until the time came to feed you, oh he was so worried that he’d forget the time and accidentally let you starve’ then Lilia put a finger to his chin in thought ‘though I suppose his worry may have stirred from that parenting book I lent him that one time. It’s probably become a bit of a habit now but still it warms this old man’s heart to see my boys caring for each other!’ 

While the notion itself was greatly appreciated, there were times where it embarrassed poor Silver when the other students and staff witnesses Lilia’s fatherly doting or whenever Malleus scoops some of his portion onto Silver’s whenever he thought the human wasn’t eating enough, even now the fae flicks a graceful eye to the untouched plate, almost daring the human to go hungry.

Shaking his head, Silver carefully hides his smile and begins to eat.

All was well while they ate, Silver watched contently as his fae guardians conversed with each other and Sebek snapped and tore through his fifth helping of risotto, Silver was worried that he might bite through his fork and wonders if it would help if he caught something for dinner later, Sebek was always mentioning about how hungry he was so perhaps some extra meat would temporarily quell his friend’s voracious appetite.  

Lilia was joyously teasing the prince about his lack of punctuality when Silver felt it, there was something strange about the risotto’s texture. As he chewed slowly Silver found an odd chunk of something hidden within the food, rolling it along his tongue he felt how it crumbled between his teeth though he soon came to believe that it was probably just a particularly large piece of mushroom so he shrugged it off.

Some of these mushrooms are rather big, he thought to himself questioningly as a different mushroom piece suddenly lodges itself somewhere in his throat, Lilia, Malleus and Sebek quickly turn to him as he roughly beats his fist against his chest whilst coughing dryly ‘my, you must have been quite hungry, my dear Silver’ chirped Lilia as he came over and thwacked his son firmly on the back. 

‘No-no…s’not…that’ Silver wheezes, his terror rose as he suddenly bent over and braced one elbow on the table while the other clutched desperately at his neck, everyone else began to panic when Silver’s coughs take on a retching tone, each gasp convulsing his whole body. Immediately Lilia’s hands coiled around the boy’s waist and practically heaved Silver off the floor with every thrust he made, at the third though Lilia had to stop when Silver gave a particularly harsh gag. Everything seemed to pause as a dark scarlet colour splattered all over the pearly white plates and shiny wooden table, gleaming like precious rubies on display.

Everyone broke out of their shocked daze when Silver whined painfully, his ungloved hand reaching into his mouth, trying to grasp at something but his fingers shook terribly and kept slipping. Both Lilia and Malleus cry out, the latter quickly held the boy up gently by the shoulders while the former pries his son’s trembling hand away and replaced it with his own ‘shh, shh, it’s alright Silver, it’s alright, Papa’s here…’ Lilia coos softly, trying to soothe his panicking child while trying to ignore the blood that slicks his nimble fingers, making it difficult to grip anything… Ah ha! There! As light as a feather Lilia took hold of something rock solid and gently, he tugged on it, taking great care to avoid hurting his boy even more. Slowly but surely something was coming out, blood thickly spewed out before revealing a distorted clear piece of glass pinched between Lilia’s fingers, small enough to remain hidden but big enough to potentially tear up a throat’s insides. Malleus stares at the glass with a look of outraged disbelief, who would dare-!

‘My liege!’ Both fae quickly turn at Sebek’s cry. The knight had searched through Silver’s risotto and has dug out three more pieces of glass of similar sizes to the one lilia had just pulled out, Sebek looks at Silver worriedly and promptly rushes to his side when the human whimpers and gasps out more blood ‘quickly! Help me take him to the infirmary!’ lilia barks, hoisting Silver up by one side and Sebek soon taking the other. In the rush Malleus was left behind with the staff on duty to control the excited crowd, he hadn’t wanted to of course, he had to be at Silver’s side, making sure that he was being properly treated, to think that there was someone within the school who had the absolute gall to do something so despicable to someone under his care, to target Silver- wait.

He thought back to the beginning of lunch, to his and Silver’s plates… They weren’t going after his retainer, they were targeting Malleus. His fists clenched, so hard that he felt some seams in his gloves tear. When I get my hands on whoever’s done this-

He had only wanted to make sure that his charge was well fed, but in his folly all he did was unknowingly feed Silver a plate filled with tampered food, and now this has happened. Glass in their food would have only been a minor inconvenience to fae like Lilia and Malleus, as was possibly the perpetrators prior intentions, but clearly the same cannot be said for humans, as was seen with Silver. For that alone I will slowly tear them apart, he thought dangerously, tis only right, they have hurt what is mine and as crown prince of Briar Valley it is my duty to put them in their place. But first, he must attend to Silver who should be in the infirmary by now… Malleus can only hope that his charge won’t suffer any long lasting ailments due to this. With that thought in mind, the dragon prince disappears in a flurry of green lights.

By the time he arrived Silver was fast asleep in one of the few infirmary cots, his parted mouth emitting weak wheezy breaths. Lilia sat at the head, tenderly stroking his boy’s soft locks ‘the nurse said he should be fine’ the old fae says without glancing up, moving closer something in Malleus’s chest tightens when he finds little splotches of dried red in the corner of Silver’s pale mouth ‘how bad was it?’ he murmurs, bending down to caress Silver’s cheek, the boy showed no signs of stirring. Lilia hummed and gestured to a tray on the other side of the cot, on top was a smaller, cruel looking piece of glass ‘apparently that bit must have broken off the one I pulled out’ he mumbled looking at his now gloveless hand, his eyes flick back to Malleus ‘let me guess. You have come to the same conclusion as I?’ it was not a question ‘good, then it is alright to ask that you remain here with Sebek at Silver’s side while I go handle this.’

Malleus blanched, what? No! He won't have Lilia do this alone! It was unbecoming of the prince to back down from such a blatant challenge. But just as he was about to protest, his guardian pinned him down with the general’s sharp gaze ‘no Malleus, while I’m well aware of your power, remember that this was an attack staged against you, little Silver simply had the misfortune to be the recipient of it, and we don’t want any unfortunate incidents happening as well, do we?’ he grins maliciously, it was then Malleus recalled just who he was speaking with, he may have changed immensely over the centuries but this was still Lilia Vanrouge, general of the right and one of the most feared fae out there. And someone had just signed their death sentence the moment that glass was placed, not only had they targeted his first child and prince of Briar Valley, they had even wounded his second child with such a callous method and now here he was resting in an infirmary with a torn up throat, how could Lilia ever let something like this slide without punishment.

Even better they have made an attempt on Malleus’s well being, Lilia thought his talons twitching with unbridled bloodlust, that means I can go all out as his guard.

I hope the staff catch them quickly.

His grin widens.

Otherwise I’m going to have some fun.

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 23

anakin x reader

A/N: So ani is a lil uncharacteristically emotional in this one, but it's because he’s going through withdrawal which takes a heavy toll not only physically but emotionally too. Also this chapter mentions the fourth of July (sorry to my readers who don’t live in the USA) . I just thought the holiday would be a good plot point for this specific iderration of Anakin, I do not mean to use the holiday politically AT ALL!!! Anyways, with all of that out of the way- I hope you all enjoy it!!

The fourth of july came at a bad time

warnings: cursing, alcohol abuse, alcohol withdrawal , self hatred, depressive thoughts, throw up, basically ani is just miserable, ptsd

______________________________

Things had been going as well as they could regarding his liver- but the biggest problem at the moment was the withdrawal of alcohol.

Last time he subsided with his drinking, he had time to wean himself off slowly- but now he couldn’t because any amount of alcohol could be fatal to his condition. 

The past few nights had been restless for him- cold sweats, headaches, nausea, and he was just generally miserable. 

Last night wasn't much different, he was pretty miserable, curled up on his side trying to ignore the pains in his stomach- it took him forever to get comfortable and when he finally did, he only got about an hour of sleep before he woke up shaking and disoriented. 

You rushed to his bedside to find he was running a fever (a normal symptom of alcohol withdrawal); instead of freaking out you sat by him trying your best to soothe him while also bringing down his temperature. 

Later on he emptied the contents of his stomach into a trash bin you brought for him and finally fell asleep.

You weren’t so sure tonight would be any better, he had been acting squirrely all day and seemed kind of in a haze. 

He skipped dinner because he felt like if he ate anything it would just come back up. So the two of you sat on the couch with a program about different species of the Amazon playing in the background; not that either of you were actually paying attention to that. 

You were worried about Anakin, how much longer was this routine going to be sustainable for him?

Outside the distinct pew of a firework being sent up into the night sky could be heard before it made a “bang”.

You Jumped at the loud noise, you never were really a fan of fireworks. But why were they going off tonight…?

Oh fuck. Today was the 4th- there would be fireworks going on all night. 

You looked over your phone to see Anakin’s wide blue eyes and distant stare. Another one went off and you observed as he flinched at the initial ascent and closed his eyes and tensed as it exploded. 

You didn’t need to ask why he was so jumpy… the fireworks sounded eerily reminiscent of the explosives he was accustomed to hearing on the battlefield. 

Anakin’s PTSD was not something that came up often- he didn’t really like to talk about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have it. 

“Ani, do you wanna change the channel to something a little louder? It might drown out the sounds outside” you offered after you noticed him shaking under his blanket.

Half of you expected him to be peeved that you insinuated he wasn't ok, but to your surprise he looked towards you with wide eyes, 

“Could you come sit with me?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Of course” 

His blue eyes watched as you took a seat beside him; as soon as you were sat, one of his bionic arms pulled you gently in by the waist. Once you were close enough you leaned over to peck him on the cheek before turning the volume on the TV on.

Anxiously you watched the clock, it was nearing midnight and you knew that would be the worst.

A sharp inhale diverted your attention from the screen in front of you to the man beside you. His eyes were clenched shut and he gripped his side. 

“Anakin, what’s wrong?” you asked anxiously. 

“Nothing, it’s just…my side hurts” he groaned.

The doctor said that was normal for someone with liver issues but it still hurt to see him struggling. 

“Would you like me to hold-”

He nodded his head and you scooted closer to him; as of now it wasn’t clear what the two of you were in your relationship, but you did want to be there for him.

Soon he was lying across your lap and held tightly onto your hand that draped over his side. Your free hand was gently running over his side and occasionally brushing against the side of his face. 

It was evident that he was shaking in your hold; unfortunately there wasn’t much you could do to aid his condition, so you offered all you could.

The clock in the corner chimed and your eyes widened, it was 12- well, almost; the clock was about two minutes fast, but that just meant the majority of the fireworks would be going off in no time. 

“Ani, do you wanna sit up for me?” you asked, lightly patting his side. 

“S-sure”

Now the two of you were sitting face to face, holding hands. The first of many colorful explosives fired into the night sky- the initial ascent made Anakin flinch in your arms, but he still tried to focus on you; your soft skin, the faint blush on your cheeks, the growing bump of your stomach…

Another twinge of pain plagued his side at the same moment a loud bang interrupted his internal commentary and he yelped. You quickly drew him into a tight embrace and rubbed his strong back.

His cries had subsided but he was still quivering a little; it was painful to see him in such a state. 

At first you said nothing then you soon subconsciously began humming a soft tune; a song your mother used to sing to comfort you when you were distressed.

You hadn’t heard that song in ages, but here you were- doing your best to comfort a man in need. 

____________

Anakin was still trying to drown out the noises outside with thoughts of his own, but no matter how hard he tried- his mind kept teleporting him to the fucking battlefield he left so many years ago.

The cacophony of bullets and choppers slicing through the sky. The melody of screaming and detonated bombs... The symphony of war. 

He hated it there.

Usually he was able to stay far far away from that place, but sometimes he just couldn’t fight the darkness cruelly pulling him back in. 

But this time he heard something else, a new chord to the song.

It was nothing harsh or dangerous, instead it was soft and smooth- it felt safe. 

His eyes moved rapidly under his closed lids, searching for the origin of the sound, until he was pulled from his personal hell and opened his eyes again.

With a deep breath he took in his surroundings; he was on his couch (ok, it was still the 4th). He registered that you were hugging him tightly and…

Singing.

The voice, the light at the end of the tunnel, his safe place- was you. 

He closed his eyes once more but this time was not in anguish, rather in pure adoration. He wanted to focus solely on your voice and forget everything else- in this moment you were the only thing that mattered. 

_____________

Before you knew it the familiar melody came to an end and you finished your song; it felt so natural you barely realized you had started singing. 

You smiled as you felt Anakin relax in your arms; the worst was finally over.

He nuzzled further into your embrace and you felt the motion of his brows furrowing against your chest. You brushed his locks and wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead. 

Another straggler firework went off and he cringed once more; you continued to softly comfort him.

Though, as much as he loved your embrace, he wanted to see your face. So he raised himself up to gazed upon you; on your messy hair, your eye bags, your endearing smile…

You were radiant. 

“Thank you, y/n” he said.

You smiled and peppered his flushed face with kisses, “of course, Ani”.

After you pulled away, his blue eyes still lingered on you.

“You are so beautiful”.

You smiled; no matter the state he was in, Anakin would be there to remind you of your beauty. Even if you woke up feeling like you looked terrible, he would quell your worries. 

“Thank you Ani, so are you” you delivered another soft kiss to his temple before straightening your back against the couch. 

It seemed that the majority of the fireworks were done (finally). Anakin was able to relax his muscles and sit comfortably beside you. 

The TV was still playing the nature channel; the show changed to one about baby animals in different habitats. Instead of going back to your phone, you watched as the screen flashed clips of fluffy seal pups and tiny polar bear cubs. 

“You like polar bears, right?” Anakin asked.

“Yea, I think they’re pretty cool. They’re Apex predators yet so cute” you smiled.

He smiled at your response.

“Do you like ‘em?” you returned his question.

“Mhmm, I was stationed in Alaska for a few months when I first joined the military and I became friends with this guy who ran a bear sanctuary. He had one polar bear and she was an absolute sweetheart” Anakin reminisced. 

Your eyes lit up; Anakin had so many great memories and experiences.

“That’s amazing! I would love to see one in real life. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance though, because we’re driving them to extinction.” you frowned.

“If we had the time, I would’ve taken you up there to see her. My friend still runs the sanctuary” Anakin replied.

If we had time…

Another disappointing reminder that no time was guaranteed; you would have loved to do that with Anakin….You would have loved to do a lot of things with Anakin…

With a sad smile, you responded, “That’s very sweet Ani… but who’s to say we won't go someday?”.

His cerulean blue eyes gave you a knowing look before responding, “I guess you’re right”.

You were about to respond to him when you felt an odd sensation in your lower abdomen;

“Oh!” you exclaimed and you grabbed onto the arm of the couch to steady yourself. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Anakin asked without hesitation. 

The sensation came again and you placed a hand on your stomach, “Yea, I’m ok Ani”.

“Is it the baby?” he asked worriedly. 

“I think so; it’s kicking” you said, calming his already high strung nerves. 

You turned towards him with an endearing look, “Would you like to feel?”.

His eyes lit up when he processed your question and he sat up straight; he looked as excited as a kid who just got told they would be going to disney world. 

“Please?” he asked.

“Of course,” you smiled. 

You turned your body towards him so he could have a better angle to feel.

“Could you help me-” he asked as he offered one of his arms. 

How could you forget?

With his arms on he wouldn’t be able to directly feel the baby; gently you took the bionic arm in your hands and broke the suction seal, allowing him to pull his stump out. 

You placed the arm beside you on the couch and turned towards Anakin once more. 

He was examining his arm (just a small habit he had) and you laid back into the cushions. He gazed upon you with such adoration. You could tell how much he loved you- how much he meant his apologies…

“Ani, give me your arm” you asked, to which he darted his eyes towards yours. 

“It’s alright, I can just-”

“Please?” you asked. 

Even after all of your time together he still got self conscious sometimes- honesty his insecurities came in random waves and apparently, now, was just one of those times. 

He sighed and offered you his arm; you wrapped your hand around his tender skin, eliciting a small gasp from him (your touch still gave him butterflies).

You slowly guided him to your stomach and pulled up your shirt; the bump was very noticeable now. 

You placed his soft stump against your belly and laid your hands on top of him. You sighed at his touch, you hadn’t felt him so intimately in a long time. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he had his eyes closed; his brows were drawn in concentration and his plump lips were slightly parted. 

Once the baby kicked again his eyes shot open, he leaned forward and placed his prosthetic hand against your stomach too. 

“It’s amazing”

You giggled at his wonder. 

“That’s…” he began.

“Our baby” you finished; gazing into his water eyes as he turned towards you. 

Today had already been an emotionally draining day, but he still had a few tears left to shed.

“Oh, Ani. It’s alright” you sighed when you saw trails down his cheeks. 

Before you could sit all the way up, he gathered you into a warm embrace and laid gently atop of your chest (careful not to bump your belly). 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to hold you as tightly as he could. 

You knew he wasn’t the best with words, but his actions were telling you everything you needed to know. 

“Thank you” he said against your neck.

You drew your brows together, you didn't expect him to say anything. 

“Thank you for staying”

“I know I’m far from perfect and I got shit I gotta sort out… but it means so much to me that you believed in me enough to stay… and to sharing our baby with me” his voice began to waver. 

“...just thank you for everything”

Anakin didn’t need to thank you, his actions were enough to tell you how grateful he was, but the fact that he did vocalize his feelings just meant the world to you. 

He was trying.

You held his head closer to you and kissed his hair.

“I love you” he whispered softly. 

Your heart fluttered because deep inside you knew you still did too. 

***

a/n: getting out of angst??? also i added the polar bear hit cause i was just thinking abt them and was like- “ig i’ll put it in the fic” lmfaooo

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

[carrionhearted]

i need to watch more horror movies so please drop your favourites 🙏🙏

GLADLY!!!! These are in no particular order, or category… just a list of horror (& adjacent) films that feel special to me. Some of these are genuine works of art, and others are just campy fun. Some of them are flaming garbage. Have fun figuring out which are which!

- House of 1000 Corpses (& sequels: The Devil’s Rejects, Three from hell) (Ho1000C is just a blast, campy and vibrant and fun— while the sequels are a lot more grounded and gritty in tone. The characters really make this franchise. Rob Zombie is great at writing hate-lovable bastards.)

- Eraserhead (a fever-dream-nightmare perfectly translated into film. Surrealist imagery that will permanently etch itself into your grey matter. I hope you like long shots and ambient droning sounds! I love films you have to decode in order to understand.)

- Donnie Darko (more ‘psychological thriller’ than ‘horror’, but god I love this film. If you like unreliable narrators and themes of unreality, blurred lines between the supernatural and psychosis… watch Donnie Darko.)

- I Saw The TV Glow (made me ugly cry until I threw up and gave me a headache so bad I couldn’t sleep afterwards. VERY effective psychological horror if you struggle with identity and dissociation/ dpdr. Like, dangerously effective.)

- Pearl (standout fav of this trilogy, though X and MaXXXine are also great. I am in love with Pearl as a character. Insane writing, insane acting, and it’s shot so well… ooghsgdh I love this film…)

- The Lighthouse (Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK! Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea!)

-Carrie (the original is, of course, the best… but the 2013 iteration is also surprisingly good. She is so normal girl don’t worry about it)

- Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (SPECIFICALLY 2, but watch the first one also) (Bill Moseley as Chop Top… Oingo Boingo on the soundtrack… sexual tension with the chainsaw… the dinner scene… Leatherface <3… it has it all…)

- Society (Do not go into this expecting a good solid film. Go into it expecting to have a very confusing, VERY FUN time. One million bonus points for The Shunting.)

- Sleepaway Camp (another campy cult classic. The most wtf acting, wtf dialogue, wtf line delivery, WTF AMOUNT OF MEN IN BOOTY SHORTS, wtf kills and wtf ending. Also diversity win!)

- Slither (now that’s what I can body horror! This film is outrageous it’s insane it’s… goopy… lots of slugs. Great mix of horror and comedy imo)

- Ready Or Not (a “death game” premise with an almost cartoonish quality? The characters are all… all such characters, they did great fleshing out a large-ish cast. They did a great job in general. Also funny. Also WICKED set design.)

- Hereditary (a predictable answer, but I think it earns the praise. It’s uniquely effective at being… horrifying, as a horror film. The sense of dread in this film is something special.)

- Silence of the Lambs (another obligatory mention. It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.)

- Terrifier, 1 2 and 3! (obligatory Terrifier franchise mention. Art the Clown is just a silly little guy. God forbid a clown have hobbies.)

[twisted-lilies]

Hazy

Something’s wrong and he’s hoping it’s not what he’s thinking it is.

Asmodeus is out on an important meeting (but honestly, Fizzarolli thinks everything Asmodeus does is important) and he won’t be back until later that day. The last thing Fizz would want to do is call him and ruin the meeting. Besides, his stomach is just a little bit upset. He’ll be fine.

It must be something he ate. He doesn’t exactly have the best diet, so that’s very possible. But something about the way his head is starting to feel fuzzy is making him think otherwise.

Worrying about it isn’t doing any good, if anything it’s only making his stomach more upset, but he’s all alone with just his thoughts. What else is he supposed to do?

Lying in bed, he thinks about Ozzie’s strong arms carrying him, his smooth voice soothing the mounting pressure in Fizz’s head. All he wants right now is to be held in his arms so he doesn’t have to worry about a thing. The only time he’s ever felt truly safe is with Asmodeus.

Even then, Fizz isn’t sure he deserves that.

Not only did the fire leave him with a myriad of health issues, some that were resolved within months and some that affect him to this day, but it also damaged his view of himself. The fear, the panic, the insecurity. All of that, he carries with him to this day, made worse by his deal with Mammon.

Admitting weakness is not something Fizz is accustomed to. Not only is he constantly putting on a figurative mask in front of all of Hell and therefore has to be the best version of himself at all times, but the pressure he puts on himself to be perfect is another issue entirely. Asmodeus has told him to his face that it isn’t healthy, but it’s so ingrained in him that he doesn’t know how to stop.

Even in times like these where Fizz should probably definitely be getting some help right now, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to admit just how badly he’s feeling. What would the world think if they saw him like this? What would Asmodeus think?

He’d probably be completely disgusted. He would never want to touch Fizz again if he saw the state he’s in now, sweaty with a slightly ashen complexion.

Earlier this morning, Fizz tried his best to start the day like normal. He got his costume on and began putting on his makeup when he was overcome with a wave of nausea that made him stop in his tracks. He covered his mouth, meekly hoping he wouldn’t vomit on the spot, but thankfully that feeling passed as soon as it came. Strange.

It was when he began practicing his routines that he began to feel worse and worse. He started growing shaky and unusually tired even though he had gotten a surprisingly good amount of sleep the night before. Then, the cold sweats began, followed by the chills that crawl up his spine like spiders.

The nausea was the worst. Every time he thought he was in the clear, it would creep up on him again and leave him nearly gagging but never enough to actually vomit. It was terrible.

Practicing made everything worse. Right after he finished, his stomach began to churn ominously. “Please don’t throw up, please don’t throw up,” he silently begged.

But it was no use. With a gag, he could feel bile pooling in his throat. Fuck, he thought to himself, I need to get to the bathroom. He barely managed to make it in time to vomit right into the sink, clutching onto the sides to stabilize himself.

Fizzarolli retched again, the effort hurting his already-sore throat in the process, bringing up even more stomach acid. Part of him wished Asmodeus were here to offer soothing words and comforting rubs on the back, but another part fears he would be disgusted and never want anything to do with him ever again.

He looked at himself in the mirror and winced at the sight of his pale face with fever-flushed cheeks. He looked absolutely terrible. How could Asmodeus ever love him when he looks like this? How could the embodiment of lust itself ever want him?

And now, Fizzarolli lay in his bed, having thrown up at least three times now (that he can remember through the haze of his fever). The last time was mostly just bile at that point, his body having nothing left in it yet remaining intent on expelling every last bit.

He managed to drink some water, but even that feels like it’s about to come up again at any moment if the uneasy way it’s settling in his stomach is anything to go by.

Yeah, no, it’s definitely coming up again.

Fizz covers his mouth with a hand as he silently gags, trying to get himself out of bed in time to make it to the toilet for the millionth time that day (or at least it feels like it). His stomach is killing him.

He’s puking up the small amount of water he drank earlier when he hears the front door open and his heart stops in his chest. That must be Ozzie. But he can’t be here! Not when Fizz is like this! He has to lock the door or go back to the bedroom or something—

The anxiety makes his stomach cramp and he’s sent retching over the toilet once again. That’s when the bathroom door opens and a deep voice asks, “Fizzy, are you okay?”

The voice sounds concerned, caring almost. He knows it’s Asmodeus’, but it can’t be. He should be disgusted with him, ashamed that his best performer isn’t performing up to par. He should throw him away, not place a gentle hand on his back. Not break off a piece of toilet paper to wipe around his mouth. Not be concerned about whether he’s okay.

“I-I’m fine,” Fizzarolli tries to say as convincingly as possible, though that backfires when his voice cracks from how sore his throat is. “I just…must’ve eaten something bad. I’m really sorry, Ozzie.”

“There’s no need to apologize, my dear,” Asmodeus says with that charming voice of his. For a moment, it makes him feel cared about. “It’s obvious you aren’t feeling well. Tell me, how many times have you gotten sick today?”

Fizzarolli winces because he knows Asmodeus won’t like the answer, but he responds nonetheless with, “I think this is the fourth time.” His face feels hot and he isn’t sure if that’s just from the fever anymore.

Asmodeus makes a disappointed noise that almost brings tears to Fizz’s eyes. Of course he would be disappointed in him. After the first time, he should have gotten it under control. If he was really strong, there wouldn’t have even been a first time. “Have you had anything to eat or drink? Anything at all?”

He sounds hopeful and Fizzarolli doesn’t want to destroy that hope, so he responds, “I drank a little bit of water earlier, but…” It’s self-explanatory, so he doesn’t feel the need to spell it out for him. “I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” Asmodeus asks. “I’m glad you tried to drink some water, at least. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Asmodeus’ strong arms wrap around him and he allows himself to relax for a moment, just thinking about how much he loves his partner. Neither of them have said the big “L-word” yet, but Fizz knows he feels love for Ozzie whether the sin of lust reciprocates it or not. Just thinking about confessing makes his stomach hurt, so he chooses not to dwell too much on it.

Asmodeus lies him down on the bed and places a cool towel on his forehead. “This should help with your fever,” he says, which confirms Fizz’s suspicion about having a temperature. That also confirms that he’s sick and it’s not just something he ate, which strangely makes him feel worse. Being sick means recovering, and recovering means not being perfect.

“How’re you feeling?” the man asks, which snaps Fizzarolli out of it. “If there’s anything I can do to help you feel better, please let me know. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.” He plants a kiss on Fizz’s too-hot forehead, which makes him blush even through the fever.

“I’m okay,” Fizzarolli says, which is mostly true. He’s not in any pain at the moment besides a dull throbbing in both his stomach and his head, for which he considers himself lucky. “I’m just…really tired.” He tries to hold back a yawn, but he doesn’t succeed.

“How about you get some rest then, hm?” Asmodeus asks, though he already begins making the room more suitable for taking a nap. “I wish I could stay longer, but I have some work I need to finish up before tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be alright on your own?”

Fizzarolli doesn’t really think so, but he nods anyway, humming affirmatively. “You go, I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t know exactly how true that statement is, but he doesn’t want to hold Ozzie back from his work, especially if it’s something important enough to warrant a deadline. He’ll just try to sleep it off.

“Good,” Asmodeus says, kissing his too-hot forehead. “I’ll be finished by the time you wake up, I promise.” He turns the lights off, wishes him a good rest, and leaves.

Fizz is able to drift off into a restless sleep, one that has him tossing and turning, questioning what parts are real and what are his fever-muddled mind’s way of torturing him. He’s too hot, way too hot, and it’s all too familiar.

He first feels the smoke entering his lungs, followed by the flames licking every surface of his body. It’s hot, way too hot, and he needs to get out—

Waking with a start, Fizzarolli struggles to catch his breath as he takes in his surroundings. It’s his and Asmodeus’ bedroom, the familiar scent of the sheets grounding him. He almost forgets the way his lungs were filled with smoke only moments earlier. He actually feels like he can breathe again.

“I brought you some food,” Asmodeus’ familiar voice says, bringing him back to reality. How long was he asleep for? It somehow felt simultaneously like seconds and years. “I need you to try to eat a little bit, even if it’s not much. You need some food on your stomach.”

He isn’t really sure if food is going to agree with him right now, but it looks like a simple soup with crackers and water. If he’s going to be able to stomach anything, it would be this. “Thanks,” Fizzarolli says, albeit warily.

He eyes the soup and decides to take a spoonful. It’s really good, the flavors light enough to not upset his stomach but rich enough to add depth to the dish. Asmodeus is a surprisingly good chef, if he actually made this himself. It warms him in a way that isn’t unwelcome right now, though he isn’t sure how his fever is doing since before he fell asleep.

“Do you think I still have a fever?” he decides to ask, perhaps against his better judgement. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fever he probably has, but he wouldn’t normally be so bold and ask Asmodeus a question that addresses his weakness. He would normally keep it under tight wraps, not wanting to come across as anything less than perfect. That applies to everyone, but maybe the rules can be bent when it comes to Asmodeus.

Asmodeus uses a hand to feel Fizzarolli’s forehead. The imp momentarily relaxes, leaning into the sin’s cool touch. “You still feel really warm,” he responds. “I don’t think your fever’s broken yet. Let’s give it another day and if it hasn’t gone down by then, we’ll take you to see a doctor.”

The thought of seeing a doctor fills Fizzarolli with a feeling akin to both dread and…something else that he’s decided to keep buried deep, deep down. Asmodeus actually cares about him that much? That he would take Fizz to the doctor’s out of genuine concern for his wellbeing? It’s almost impossible. If he were any more alert right now, he might dismiss the notion entirely. But something about being this vulnerable and so desperately wanting to be cared for makes him want to believe it’s true.

A funny feeling arises in his gut, one that he thinks is…hope? That is, until he vomits all of the soup he’s just eaten directly onto the sheets of the bed. Asmodeus jumps a bit in surprise, but he remains by Fizzarolli’s side nonetheless. “It’s alright,” he says, “just let it out.”

He brings up another wave of undigested soup, his face heating in humiliation. He’s just vomited directly onto the sheets, making a complete mess of everything. And he’s wasted the meal Ozzie made specially for him. Tears spring to his eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned. Either Fizzarolli has completely lost his ability to tell when someone’s fucking with him, or he’s actually being cared about right now. He isn’t sure which one is scarier. “We’ll get this cleaned up. I’m very sorry, the soup must have been too much.”

But the soup was delicious, is what he wants to say, but all that comes out is a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a cough, his pained throat finally catching up to him.

“Shh, rest your voice,” Asmodeus says. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get rid of the sheets, you stay here. I’ll be right back, my love.”

My love…?

Fizzarolli’s heart swells, hoping that this isn’t just the fever getting so bad it’s making him hallucinate. Did he hear that right?

Asmodeus loves him?

[thatbxolivia]

warnings- mentions of chronic pain and cussing

tbh i don’t really have a name for this one just a summary!! you have chronic pain and you have a bad pain day and daddy takes care of you

sn- i myself only suffer from fibromyalgia so if this is too similar to that and/or it isn’t accurate depictions of other chronic illnesses im so sorry

———————————————

you woke up feeling like you’d been hit by a truck. you almost thought you were sick and these were fever pains. but as you moved and the familiar flash of nerve pain went up your spine, you knew it was a flare up for your chronic pain. you groaned, gingerly moving your legs out of bed and sniffling. this pain was very bad, worse than normal.

“daddy?” you called out weakly, and he came running.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he asked, crouching down to your level. “i’m here, tell daddy.”

“daddy, the pain is so bad today.” you sobbed. his face softened and he lightly rubbed your back.

“i’ll take care of you like i always do, i’m always here for you, you don’t have to worry about anything.” he reassured you. you sighed, knowing today would most likely take away all your mental energy just to stay alive.

“thank you…” you trailed off. “i’m sorry you have to, though.”

“don’t be, i’m happy to do it, always.” he said, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the kitchen table. “let’s get some food in you.” he said, making breakfast. you sat in the chair, shifting uncomfortably against the hard backing. daddy noticed your pain and went to get you a pillow, adding at least some comfort. “it’s going to be okay, remember the flare ups always pass.” he said. and he was right, maybe it took longer than usual sometimes, but they always passed. you could deal with what you deemed your “normal amount” of pain. it was these flare ups with pain worse than usual that made it hard.

eventually, breakfast was ready and your daddy served it to you on your favorite pink plate that caught your eye at a traveling market. you just had to have it.

“eat up, baby. you need energy.” he told you, lightly kissing your forehead. the two of you sat in silence, eating, while anakin would occasionally check on you or fuss over you, helping you eat or wiping your face. you loved the attention.

“daddy, my back really hurts.” you told him, sighing. you’d been trying to ignore it but it was the worst pain today. anakin frowned and took your plate up when you were done, coming back over to you.

“let’s put salve on it, i know it doesn’t help a lot but it does help a little, right?” he asked, checking it was still true. you nodded.

“yes, daddy, it helps a little.” you confirmed. he brought you back to your shared room and had you lay on your tummy while he applied it to your back, careful as to not press harshly on any sore muscles. you soon felt the warmth from the menthol in the salve and felt some relief coming your way. you sunk into the mattress, feeling a little more at ease.

“would you like to just have a lazy day today? you can go back to bed, i’ll join you.” he said, lightly running his fingers through your hair. you were already exhausted just from barely being up an hour so you nodded, taking your body’s sign to relax today.

“yes please, daddy.” you said, turning your head to the side to look at him. he looked back at you, smiling.

“i got you. i’ve got you always.” he said. he always knew how to make you feel better.

[reynthrough]

Read Only Memories - v2

Lavender was still having a crisis.

Clutching onto the (blessedly clean) toilet like it owed her money, Lavender faithfully deposited the sum total of every single drink she’d ever had, every last morsel of food she’d ever dared to consume, and her collective sins in it’s basin. This Throne was her church, and she was praying feverently to any god that would listen to be liberated from her mortal coil.

Time passed. How long, she didn’t know. She’d slipped into something of a meditative state in the midst of her self imposed exorcism, and was now fairly settled into the rhythm of non-existence. Was she dead? She thought so. Some god may have finally answer her prayers. The thought made her lips curl up ever so slightly, exhaling loudly through her nose in a near-laugh. The moment, of course, was interrupted by the now familiar and damn near musical cadence of that strange man.

“Knock, knock! Sugaaar, I’m coming in. You decent?” He opens the door, waving the wet rag in the air, both announcing his arrival and a gentle reminder of their peace treaty.

“Pffft. Kidding, kidding - it was rhetorical.” His eyes were already scanning her up and down, assessing the damage. He settled in on the floor beside her as if that was the most obvious and normal thing to do. “Come, let me get a look at you.”

Lavender’s head drew upright, her eyes twisting shut as though it would shield her from humiliation. “Sugar?” The term of endearment felt alien in her mouth, but it also made her stomach flip. She chose to mistake that particular sensation for…unfinished prayers, as it were. What was left to do but match his energy? She lolled her head to the side, finally making lazy eye contact - in her own way, she was doing her best to comply with his request.

His hand flew over his heart, grimacing with no small amount of flair. Taking care to emphasize his chosen endearment, he said “....Sugar, you look like shit.” He chucked, looking up at her from under his brow while rubbing her back in a soothing gesture. “Don’t worry though, I gotcha. I’m a pretty capable guy, you know? I’ll take it from here..” A mischievous grin painted his otherwise angelic face. “...buuuut, it'll cost you.”

Lavender, stunned at his kindness and familiarity with her, simply hummed in response.

True to his word, he went straight to work; he could sense that talking wasn’t something she could or would do quite yet. He held a glass of water to her lips, and didn't release it even when she brought it to her mouth - the silent support was something Lavender was actually grateful for. The scant few slivers of pride she still possessed would’ve made her insist on doing it on her own. He even stopped her before she drank too much, too fast - his voice, now surprisingly gentle, had murmured that the water wasn’t going anywhere and to just take it slow as he moved it barely out of her reach.

He captured her chin just as she was poised to resume the mantle that was her arm pillow, and made quick work of wiping the sweat off her brow, cheeks, and the corners of her mouth before silently assenting to her lying her head down again. He’d gathered the hair from under her before she’d even begun to let her head fall. Faintly, she laughed; even in her state, she was still noting how deft his hands were, marvelling at his silent and quick movements.

Quiet filled the room, one that she found easy and comfortable; her steady breathing and his hands grabbing another damp towel to clean her hair were the only disturbances to this reprieve. Rafayel, on the other hand, couldn’t stand it. His movements became less graceful with every passing stroke of her hair, as if the absence of conversation was slowly strangling him.

Finished with cleaning her up, his practiced fingers ran through her hair, carefully dislodging the rats from their proverbial nests. He gently nudged her to sit up again, and he began braiding her hair. This time, his voice was quieter when he spoke again.

“Is there anyone you want me to call for you? Do you even have your phone?”

Her shoulders tensed; she always hated this question, these kinds of questions. Her answers always seemed to make other people uncomfortable, and in equal measure, their discomfort became yet another burden for her to carry. A hint of exasperation, or weariness, twinged her face before she donned her usual blank expression. She exhaled and shook her head no.

“Mm. No. I don’t, but don’t worry about it.” She cleared her throat and threw a glance at him over her shoulder, her eyes crinkling in apology. “I’m almost better. Just a little while longer.” Averting her gaze, her fingers found the spot between her eyebrows. She rubbed it slowly, silently willing her brain to think coherent thoughts for a moment and form an escape plan.

Rafayel’s brows furrowed at her physical anxiety. His eyes flicked to the bruises - now a myriad of splotches of angry red that lined dark patches of purple down to her delicate wrist that was hellbent on digging a hole in her face. He reached out slowly, tenderly wrapping his fingers around her wrist to settle the movement, lingering for a moment until he felt her shoulders relax. He pulled her hand to her chest, guiding it over her heart, and pressed it there before retracting his own and continuing his work on her braid.

“No worries, sugar.” His musical cadence returned, and she could hear the smile on his face. “It’s your lucky day. Yours truly is off work, and I suppose I can spare some of my time to help the stray that wandered in.” He fastened the hair tie he’d rescued from the living room floor around her braid, admiring his handiwork. He spun around to lean against the cabinets to face her, propping one arm up on his knee, stretching his other leg across the floor. Bending to catch her gaze, he cracked a small smile. “Buuuut. I did say it’d cost you, remember?”

Lavender tugged the robe closer to her, suddenly feeling very exposed by the weight of his stare. She reached for the braid, studying his work, and once again found a wave of irritation at how obviously skillful he was. Instead of verbalizing her intrusive thoughts, she opted to cast a suspicious glance at him. “I don’t have any money, sugarplum.”

His eyes widened for just a second, surprised at his new nickname. He crossed his arms and huffed, a pout forming on his plush bottom lip. “Puh-leeease. Do I look poor to you? Get real. I don’t want money. Especially from someone that breaks into houses.” He cocked a particularly sassy brow at her in challenge.

His reaction was a small victory she didn’t know that she really, really needed. Her brows climbed up her forehead. “What, then?”

He turned back, locking her in his gaze, abandoning pretenses. Something about her mannerisms was uncomfortably familiar to him, and so he asked his question maybe slightly more bluntly than he'd intended.

“Curious minds need to know. Tell me everything that happened yesterday. All of it.” He paused, intentionally drawing out the moment. “The truth, please.”

Lavender felt quite unsettled not only by how she knew that there was no purpose trying to fabricate a story, but also that she didn't feel the need to. She worked with some of the worst people in the country, men and women alike that do unspeakable things to others. She knew bad people and intentions as if there was a detector in her DNA. She also knew how to assess a threat, and if he wanted to be one, she hadn't met anyone that could rival him to date - which was impressive, especially in her line of work. She nodded without a second thought.

“Okay.”

“Okay. I'll be downstairs. Come out when you're ready.” he stood up, making a lazy gesture at the counter, sauntering to the door. “Yell if you need me. Clean towel and some of my clothes here on the counter.” Turning back to cast a glance at her, he said “I'll be waiting. Not my favorite activity.”

With a wink, he was gone.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: To Become Liminal

I’ve just been thinking about liminality a lot lately. It’s very much a thing that if I write something with Liminality, it’s probably going to be about liminality and how it affects a specific character, or at least that being a major theme

I don’t like being loosy goosy with liminality personally, it’s very much a less is more situation for me, it’s rare, it’s weird, and it’s hard to become is how I like to treat it. so bare with me everything after this is based on those sensibilities 

Ectoplasm is dangerous. It’s the stuff Ghosts are made of but it’s also some kind of radioactive substance. That’s why even weak ghosts can be picked up by EMF readers and can make the lights flicker. It’s a type of radiation and it’s not safe for humans to be around in anything larger than what a couple of ghosts give off. Too much at once will kill you, and even too much over time could do that.

To become liminal is to incorporate ectoplasm into yourself, for your body to find a balance or die trying. Ectoplasm is already poisoning you, and if properly treated you might be fine with minimal complications after. The real issue is when it’s untreated and your body starts incorporating the thing that’s trying to kill you. 

And the process is painful, incredibly painful.

Fever, headaches, muscle aches as your muscles corrode and try to rebuild themselves, nausea and vomiting as your digestive track morphs, stomach pain and internal bleeding as the ectoplasm eats it’s way through your stomach lining. It hurts as your body is constantly trying to break itself down and rebuild for day, weeks, even months. Think of Vlad in the hospital and how long he was there, even after the proto portal did the majority of the work and launched him past liminal into the start of being a halfa

and then, when the pain stops, your body is different, YOU are different. You’re no longer the same, you don’t feel the same, think the same, or even dream the same. Your dreams are more vivid and disturbing, you have strange cravings and urges, urges your new body wants but you find distressing

Jazz grew up in a house of ecto scientists, The stuff had always been around, but her parents acted like it wasn’t something to worry about. Sure, sometimes the food in the house made her feel sick and she’d end up vomiting, but food poisoning is normal every so often, The fevers were just her getting a cold or the flue, totally normal. But then the portal opened and that tipped her over the precipice. In some ways she was lucky. If she hadn’t been exposed so ling, the amount that flooded the house after the portal would have been enough to kill most people in a week. Her parents were fine because of their protective gear, but Jazz would have died. Neither her parents or Danny noticed the three days she spent in bed, covered in sweat and in pain. she felt like she was dying. She was

Jason died and didn’t come back right. Even after he clawed his way out of his grave, he was more of a zombie than a person. Then Talia had found him and taken him in. The Lazarus pits could work wonders, heal the dying, replenish vitality and youth, truly a thing of wonder. Unless you were alive and healthy. The pits destroy the living and healthy Jason was living when he went in those pits, and the only thing wrong with him was his mind. The Pits brought him back, but it wasn’t right. He spent weeks barely awake, barely able to eat anything, and everything hurt. It hurt like the crowbar had hurt. He dimly remembers Ra’s wondering if Jason had been a failure and if it would be a mercy to end him there. Then Jason got better, but he was different. His body moved different, he had cravings he just couldn’t understand, some of which horrified him.  And the Rage. The rage was beyond what was normal. This wasn’t the pit madness others had spoken of. That would go away or leave him a gibbering mess. He had his mind, but the rage was still there. Something had permanently changed

Jazz had just moved into the apartment across from Jason. Something about her was different. It was familiar yet alien in a way that intrigued and frightened him. Jazz seemed to have similar feeling about him.

Just two people who are more alike than they know and are struggling with the way that similarity had changed them. Maybe they find a sense in community in each other, they finally aren’t alone, Maybe they find comfort in each other. Finally, someone who understands what it was like to go through that, that knows what the dreams are like, what the cravings and impulses are like

could it be romantic? Certainly. 

I just think there’s some really interesting things to be done with liminality in regards to examining a character and how this could affect relationships, romantic or otherwise