#and I know being hungry and having a headache only worsens that

[gardenofhope]

luna save me

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Headaches

A brush of someone’s foot against his ankle had Ian cracking his eyes open. 

He was unable to accompany Mickey on the rest of their deliveries. Ever since he woke up, it felt like there was a tight band around his head, the pain worsened as the afternoon approached, nearly to the point that it was unbearable. He felt guilty for it, although Mickey didn’t mind. His husband was more than ready to stay with him and ditch work for the rest of the day. He would've, too, had Ian not rejected his offer, insisting that he go back out there to finish the day’s work. 

For a long while, Ian didn’t get much sleep. Other than a few minutes here and there, he was right back to being awake. Not even squeezing his eyes shut helped, nothing seemed to block out the pain. Not shutting the curtains to keep the room as dark as possible, not taking some pain relievers that didn’t do jack shit to help him. 

It was dark out now from what he could tell. There wasn’t any light seeping in underneath the curtains; they were a bit too short for the window. 

“Hey.” 

Ian’s bleary eyes were able to make out the silhouette of his husband. He was turned over, facing Ian, reaching over to kiss him on the forehead. 

“Hey,” Ian mumbled. 

“How’s your head?�� Mickey’s thumb caressed his cheekbone. 

“Still fucking hurts. What time is it?” 

“Ten-thirty, I think,” Mickey said, and then added a second later, “Think you’re up for some toast if I make you some?” 

“I’m not hungry.” The thought of eating made him queasy. He was pretty sure he’d hurled if he actually tried. 

“Yeah, I figured,” Mickey murmured. “But you haven’t eaten all day, have you?” 

“I ate breakfast,” Ian felt his husband’s body heat as he inched closer. 

“You ate two bites of cereal, man.” There was no mistaking the undercurrent of concern, which only made the guilt worse. He didn’t want to worry Mickey. There was enough of that whenever he was experiencing a bipolar episode. 

“I know,” Ian’s head was now rolled in Mickey’s direction. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t gotta apologize,” Mickey whispered, gently easing him into his arms. Ian tucked his head under his husband’s chin, instinctively inhaling the scent that was so intoxicating, so Mickey. “It’s not a big deal. You hear me?”

“Mhm.” 

Mickey’s fingers threaded through his hair, mindful of his headache. He didn’t seem to mind that his much bigger husband was on top of him, and would probably fall asleep this way. 

“Tell me if you want me to move,” Ian said into Mickey’s collarbone. 

“Quit worryin’, Red. I’ll push your ass off if it gets too hot.” 

Ian exhaled, closing his eyes, finding that the sound of his husband’s breathing was able to lull him into the sleep he’d been wanting all day. 

[birthdayplant]

Educating people on PMDD because i’m tired of it being perceived as just really bad PMS. I wrote this for my partner, but I think it’s helpful to those with the condition and those with loved ones who struggle with PMDD.

It is unclear what totally causes PMDD, but most say it’s a sensitivity to fluctuating hormones during the luteal phase. When estrogen dips and progesterone rises, it fucks with your serotonin levels. PMDD can also caused by hormonal imbalances. There is also a history of having trauma or CPTSD when one has this illness. The condition is also known to worsen over time until you reach menopause.

You know how some people drink alcohol and become happy while others become angry and depressed? That’s how you can perceive how one reacts to their progesterone levels with this disorder; like a negative manifestation of alcohol consumption. It’s almost as if you have an allergic reaction to your hormones when they drastically fluctuate.

“Hormones not only control your body and everything you do and feel, they are everything you do and feel. A Hormone makes you feel happy or sad, accomplished or motivated, affectionate, horny, competitive, hungry or full. We’re a walking sack of chemical reactions that appears to be sentient.”

There are 3 phases of the menstrual cycle: the follicular phase, ovulatory phase, and luteal phase. The luteal phase (last phase) of the menstrual cycle is usually 12–14 days long, but can also be longer lasting up to 17 days. The luteal phase of your menstrual cycle occurs right after ovulation and ends when you get your period. During the luteal phase, serotonin levels drop changing the brain’s neurocircuit that affects emotional and cognitive functioning.

Everyone gets PMS right before their period. I understand why people believe PMDD to be a “more intensive” PMS, but the major difference is PMDD is a long-term Chronic illness; it’s disabling.

PMDD affects your ability to normally function in your relationships, at work and in your home. PMDD completely alters your ability to function as you normally would outside of this cycle.

The symptoms usually occur in the week prior to menstruation, but for me personally, I experience these symptoms for at least 10-12 days; practically during my entire luteal phase. PMDD symptoms are the worst when your progesterone levels are the highest.

Here is a very long list of symptoms that can manifest in someone who struggles with PMDD

Common physical symptoms:

-Abdominal bloating

-Breast tenderness or swelling

-Headaches

-Nausea

-Feeling weak

-Abdominal cramps and pain

-Weight gain

-Clumsiness

-Body discomfort

-Being more jittery/restless

-Binge eating

-Sleep dysregulation

-Swelling of the hands or feet

-Joint or muscle pain

-Tension and soreness in body

Common emotional/mental symptoms:

-Angry outbursts/feelings of intense hatred

-Anxiety

-Confusion

-Depression

-Dysphoria

-Feeling overwhelmed/out of control

-Libidinal (sex drive) changes

-Mood swings

-Decreased concentration

-Irritability

-Appetite changes

-Restlessness

-Lack of interest in usual activities

-Feelings of hopelessness

-Social withdrawal

-Overthinking

-Paranoia

-Stress

-Crying spells

-Repetitive suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

-Panic attacks

-Lashing out on people/objects

-Lack of concentration

-Insomnia

-Shameful feelings

-Reactivity (feeling more sensitive than usual and taking things more personally)

-Thoughts that everyone hates you or wants you dead

-Brain fog

-Thoughts of ending things/impaired decision making (relationships, life, jobs, etc.)

Prevalence rates for lifetime suicidal ideation in people with PMDD were 45.8% and 37.4%, compared with 17.3% and 13.3% for people without PMDD. Many have attempted suicide or had a plan to get away from the debilitating illness.

How can I help a loved one who struggles with PMDD?

PMDD not only affects the person with the condition, but it also affects the people around them, especially their loved ones. One of the worst parts about PMDD is the sense of shame that’s felt when one realizes that they were short/rude to a loved one who didn’t deserve it. Many people don’t feel like themselves during their PMDD episodes as it can bring out the worst parts of yourself.

-If a loved one is going through an episode and does something you don’t like, talk compassionately to them about what hurt you and set a boundary: It’s very common for those with this condition to act unconsciously, have outbursts and disagreements during an episode. If you point your finger at them with frustration, they’ll either get angry and lash out even more or feel awful and internalize what you said due to the lack of awareness. Hold the person accountable, but remember that they aren’t intentionally meaning to frustrate you.

-Remind yourself AND your loved one that they’re having an episode: It can feel like your loved one is creating tension in the relationship as they may frequently express negative feelings. You may internalize this thinking that you’ve done something and take it personally, but most likely you haven’t and they’re just incredibly sensitive and vulnerable at this time. When one is going through an episode, their serotonin levels are quite literally at their lowest during their luteal phase. By reminding yourself that this is just an episode and having understanding that your partner is not doing this out of ill-intent makes you less hard on yourself and by reminding your partner that they’re experiencing an episode helps them be less hard on themselves and makes them more mindful as to how they may be functioning within the relationship.

-Take care of your loved one: Offer things that may ease their symptoms.

-Show your loved one some extra tender love and care: During this time your loved one’s view of themself will be at their lowest. Show them you love them and reassure them that they’re a good person and deserve to be loved.

-Help them reframe their mind and give them different perspectives: Sometimes it’s very hard for people with PMDD to see things differently. When they’re having a rough day during their episode they may not know how of pull themselves out of negative feelings/a negative mindset. They can also deal with false/negative beliefs, so it’s very helpful to offer different perspectives for them to cope better.

-Do things to make their lives easier during this time (ex. Cleaning apartment, doing dishes, doing small things you yourself can do (like grabbing the remote, putting something away, closing the door, etc.) rather than asking them to).

-Practice patience

-If you are dating someone with PMDD it’s very helpful to come up with a plan for the duration of your partner’s episode.

-If a loved one threatens to kill themselves or is acting off, please take it seriously.

If anyone who struggles with PMDD feel free to message me! You’re not overreacting or being too much; you’re living with an incredibly debilitating condition that alters your ability to self-regulate. I hope this was helpful. Let me know if you have any questions :)

[imkattymae]

Travel: Fighting jet lag.

If I look back at all the trips I’ve taken overseas, the only time I ever recall being excited is when I finally try to get to sleep the night before - I’m hopeless. It’s like my brain flicks on ‘stay awake’ mode just before I know I need to get to sleep because I have to wake up early for a flight. It’s both frustrating and very annoying! Not to mention that I’m worried about feeling jet lagged and really tired.

It’s funny; I can wake up early in the morning and be really tired but can still last the day without falling asleep.

I must say, I don’t think I’d never actually experience jet lag until I travelled on multiple flights last year over five months.

First... what is it?

Jet lag is medically referred to as desynchronises, it's a physiological condition which results from alterations to the body's circadian rhythms resulting from rapid long-distance trans meridian (east–west or west–east) travel on a jet airplane. (Wikipedia)

In regards to symptoms, apparently everyone reacts differently. If you are traveling look out for these:

Headaches, Fatigue, irregular sleeping patterns, insomnia, disorientation, mild depression

It’s said that jet lag isn’t caused by crossing the International Date Line or the length of the flight, its affected more when traveling across a number of time zones which your body clock is not in sync with, and the rhythms are different from your natural body pattern. It also depends on how quickly your body adjusts to these new schedules, so the fact that I’ve never felt like I have been affected may just be because my body adjusted quicker than most people – thank god! Sometimes I wonder if it’s more a state of mind than anything else, and people overthink it too much. But I agree with my friend, I think it’s all about common sense.

If you have experienced jet lag before and often do, here are some tips that I have found from fellow traveler blogs and friends.

Tips to help you fight Jet Lag

Avoid overeating and caffeine  

OK, like me I can’t usually go a day without a cup of coffee or tea so this one is a tricky one for those who do drink a lot of caffeine. Caffeine does keep you up and awake longer, so it will be harder to try fall asleep and reduces your sleep time.

2. Don’t eat too much on the plane

I do think this should depend on how hungry you are and how long the flight is - you do have to eat. But if you do get hungry often during the flight, try and eat snacks and keep in mind that airline food is cooked at least twice because it’s almost impossible to maintain moisture at altitude.

3. Stay hydrated  

The plane can get really dry and with the circulating air – quite annoying, trust me – that is why I don’t wear my contact lenses on the plane anymore. So it is important to stay hydrating during the flight, you might even want to bring a hydrating spray for our face, and moisturizer.

  4. Try to avoid sleeping as soon as you arrive to your hotel

This can really push your body clock, so try and stay up until it’s actually the time to sleep at your destination. If you are really tired from traveling, take a nap – 20 minutes at most but be careful it doesn’t turn into a 3 hour one. I find that I don’t sleep straight away, even if I arrive at 8am in the morning– you have to let your body adjust to the local time so sleeping at the right time is key!

5.  Limit alcohol intake on the plane   

Alcohol can actually worsen the symptoms of jet lag, so try and avoid too much alcohol. If you feel that having a scotch or wine helps you sleep then that’s fine but remember alcohol can also dry you out and its worse when the cabin air dehydrates everyone – not to mention the effects of alcohol when the altitude changes. Did you know that one drink in mid-flight is the same as two or three on the ground! (I didn't know that lol)

If you really are worried, you can try taking pills like ‘No Jet Lag’ pills on Amazon.

Do you have any tips?

[sweetellafontaine]

((Polaris)) 💗 Someday | Harriet [18 Aug 2019] ((Do not reply))

She was beginning to feel the weight of summer. Summer meant no classes, it meant working at the magic laundry and working on the household. The Fontaine mansion wasn’t built for one person to do all the work, yet that was exactly how the household was arranged. And all of it was put on Ella Fontaine, who, if her father had not remarried, would be the master of the mansion.

After her shift at the magical laundry, she barely could stand on her feet. Blisters prevented her from moving quickly, and she barely could bite back her tears.

“Someday, I will find my happiness.” She whispered to herself in a weak attempt to cheer herself up, she found herself sitting down on the pavement removing a shoe to see the damage on her feet. It was worse than she imagined. And she sighed. “When will kindness repay me, mother?” She whispered to herself, surprised to see a butterfly landing before her. She decided to dry her tears and put back her shoes but got started to see she no longer was alone.

��Oh, I apologize.” She kindly smiled before offering the other a bow.

Like a bear emerging from hibernation, Harriet stumbles out of some hole in the wall basement apartment. She recoils against the sun, pulling her sunglasses tighter against her face as she starts in the direction of home. 

Too preoccupied with thoughts of Advil and her bed, she doesn’t notice the moping wad on the sidewalk until the girl speaks. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, hurrying past her only to pause two steps later. Wrinkling her nose, mouth agape, she twists around on the spot. “Hey, what day is it?”

She was used to being unnoticed at home, but outside people tended to give her as much as a hello. Yet, she wouldn’t allow her heart to feel heavy and smiled. “It is Tuesday, Miss.” She smiled politely. “Do you need to be somewhere? I can give you directions if you need to?”

“Fuck yes,” she says, throwing her head back and fist-pumping with both arms. That had been one hell of a bender, and for a second, she questioned her sense of time. It’s not Wednesday. She isn’t working later, thank God. Of course, Mads probably would have switched shifts with her. “No, thanks, just having a bit of trouble transitioning back to sober. Nothing matters and everything makes sense when you’re high, you know? Or not…you’re giving off a strong ‘somebody just killed your puppy’ vibe.”

The woman in front of her showed her quite some interesting expressions, it made Ella feel a bit curious about the other. “Oh, if you are experiencing some headaches I can advise you to drink water and eat. If you get hydrated chances are likely that your headache will worsen over the day, and that’s no good.” She smiled. She was not the type to take any sort of drugs, if anything her high came from doing good to others. “I just had a lot of pain in my feet, that is all. But thank you for your concern.” She offered the woman a kindhearted smile. “Oh, I do not wish to take too much of your time, you did seem to be in a hurry after all. I do wish you a wonderful day.”

Now that the blonde mentions eating, she could use a proper, ‘something other than pizza’ meal. There’s also her gut telling her this girl could use a friend today. And Harriet is always eager to make new friends. She looks around, lips pursed and sees a restaurant across the street. Her bed, excited as she is to collapse into it, can wait for a little longer. With a smile, she raises her brows at the girl. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m a little bit, yes.” She smiled. “Are you inviting?” She cocked her head, smiling from ear to ear. “I could use a bite, I probably won’t get much to eat at home, considering I’m already late. Perhaps I’m lucky and my stepsisters aren’t home and dragged my stepmother along.” She pondered for a moment. The next words were nothing but a faint whisper. “Either way I’m getting punished, so I might just get something nice to eat.”

With that, she put her shoe back on. “Let’s go, I’ll pay.”

-end

[campbluelake]

Greatest Generation 💲 Jacky-Bobby | Trial 6.1 | RE: Warrick, Niko

All that's been awful for Jonathan Robert in his far-too-long lifetime can be traced back to blood rituals. If it wasn't for the disruption and spilling of warlock blood on his sacred campground, he would've died an ordinary man.

Instead, he's still stuck here, suffering with the curse of eternal life and a headache worsening by the minute. Here's yet another round of magic-based misfortune for him. Since disasters are themed to happen in threes, he can only imagine what the next blood ritual-related major event will be like. Hopefully he'll get a 100 year break before it happens.

Save it for 2101, please; he needs to rest.

Jacky-Bobby lets out a grumpy huff sound.

"What's wrong with being normal? I'm serious. Being special is something that you work for. Greatness isn't something that's packaged to you on a silver platter.

"Why, back in my day, I used to toil under the boiling, blistering sun for hours. There were days I didn't even have two pennies to rub together after feeding my family but you know what? I didn't go around sniffing for hand-outs. I worked. I knew the 'magic' of working for what I earned.

"I had pride."

The lack of discipline in the younger generations never ceases to amaze him. They were so taken in by the illusion of fast money and made-up lies on the silver screen and their little game machines. Their compasses were calibrated to point towards the wrong direction.

And it was sad, actually, that nearly everyone here had been made prisoner of someone already shackled by that mindset. The misery had to be shared and exchanged through the terms of their contractual...

he can't find a more elegant word than 'bullshit' in this moment.

Jacky-Bobby adds onto Warrick's point.

"Yes. Moreover, it was their belief that in saving us, they'd 'grant our wishes of love,' because we're oh so hungry and lonely. The absolute gall of that thrall! They're older than I am. They should know better by now than to play around with silly assumptions and storybook fantasies for people that don't want them."

"This contractor and the thrall... truly a match made through the f-words of hell."

That's fires. He remembered.

"And you."

Peepaw's eyes narrow, with Niko in his sights.

"You ought to watch what you're doing with that lantern. That's my boy in there."

He's watching him.

[hangemhaiii]

Inhuman Desire (CHAPTER TWO)

Summary: Gerard's brother, Mikey, comes over for a visit with the intent to help with their brother's supposed,, injury. However, as he does, Gerard's condition worsens, and their worst nightmare comes to life.. Almost anyway.

Word and Character Count: 2,001 words + 10,698 characters

Story (see below):

Despite seemingly sleeping for a fairly okay time, Gerard woke up feeling terrible, like that hungry feeling you wake up along with the pounding reign of a headache. Sitting up, Gerard felt the agonizingly burning feeling emitting from the wound on their neck. He almost forgot about yesterday, shit, what time is it?

Gerard went to pick up the phone and check the time, only to freeze at the time: 12:13 PM. Didn't Mikey say he was going to come over at around 1 PM? This.. This isn't good, at all, not at fucking all. How is Gerard not only going to have to explain to Mikey about this wound on their neck, but also somehow convince his brother to not take them to the ER because of this bite??

Gerard swiftly got off their bed, sprinting to the bathroom to check on the bite on his neck. To their dismay, the wound was still pretty fresh looking, and it doesn't look like it'll magically heal and fade in the span of 47 minutes.

Anxious, Gerard started to pace, doing their best to think of an idea that could possibly hide the wound from Mikey but not to where it'd be suspicious. Then, he had a plan, Gerard could possibly use a scarf to hide the possibly infected bite and use the good excuse of the season being Fall.

They checked the time again: 12:36 PM, is there anything else Gerard needs to consider before Mikey comes over to check on him? A few minutes passed, and Gerard was sitting at his table, wondering how to explain all of this if he ever took off his scarf, exposing the wound in view. If he just casually says "Oh yeah, something bit me on the neck last night," Mikey would definitely freak out.

But if Gerard told the truth—that they had got hurt because of some feral being—Mikey would think Gerard's been losing their mind. There was really no way to win here, unless he can somehow come up with a convincing lie. "I'm going to have to say something to Mike, one way or another.." Gerard muttered, trying to think of a lie.

His mind was coming back empty, and he looked to their mirror to see if maybe it was just a bad dream. Just as he guessed, his reflection still had dead looking eyes, along with that pale, almost grey skin. This mess had just gotten more complicated.

Gerard began to get stressed, not knowing what to do. Why did that bite on his neck turn him into this? What even bit him? All of these questions made Gerard panic as he struggled to think of an excuse as to why he looks like that. 

"This is not good,"

They whispered to themselves. "God, I can't find any excuses for how I look.. Come on, Gerard, think, think!" They started to panic some more as they looked around his house for anything. After searching in the cabinets, fridge, drawers, and everywhere else he could possibly think of, he finally has a thought that could make sense. As the idea formed, they went back to their mirror.

"Alright, Gerard,"

They whispered to their reflection. "Calm down… It's just a mask, right? People wear those all the time in fall. Maybe someone just put it on me while I was passed out, doesn't explain the pain but still. Uh.. Let's just try to take it off?" Gerard breathed out through his nose, then tried to take off the mask.

But it wasn't a mask. Or, if it was a mask, he can't take it off, like as if it was superglued. "..Why can't I take it off?" They thought out loud as they glanced back at their reflection: the same pale, grey-tinged skin. The same hazed eyes. The same everything.

Gerard quickly felt a spike of panic as they realized it wasn't actually a mask. Even if it was, then why would his hands and rest of his body also have that pale skin and dark veins? He didn't pay attention to that revelation for long, as Gerard was soon hit with a heavy sense of weakness, it felt like he was heavily craving for something.

It wasn't something like a salad or a jar of pickles, though, it was something like.. Raw flesh, that of a living being. It was a feeling that was impossible to control... It was a monstrous feeling, one that made him feel like less of a person. How could he feel like this? Why did his body crave this, this... meat?

Gerard started to cry, then remembering Mikey was coming over to check on him. Oh god, he didn't want their own brother to see this disturbing scene. Or even worse, what if Gerard attacked Mikey?? It surely wasn't possible, but still. Could his body betray him like that? Was Gerard truly a monster now? Could he do that to Mikey, his own brother; one of his beloved family members!?

His mind raced and whirled with fear as the thought crossed his mind. "No... I can't..." After a long silence, a single tear fell from Gerard's eye. He didn't want to believe that he was capable of hurting his own brother, but the craving was becoming unbearable-- his mind was screaming for flesh. His hands were trembling again, and he was breathing heavily from anxiety and hunger. Then, Gerard heard knocking from the front door.

"Hey, Gerard! Are you there?"

It was Mikey, his voice was muffled due to being on the other side of the door, but it was no doubt him. He was hesitant, due to his unstoppable hunger, but Gerard had no choice, he had to open the door. "Yes, I'm here!" Gerard cried, grabbing a scarf from his closet as he ran to the door. 

He was still crying a bit, his face stained with tears. "I'm coming, Mikey! Just give me a second!" He threw the scarf around his neck, doing his absolute best to have none of his neck visible. Hesitantly, they opened the door. When Mikey walked into the house, he was greeted by the sight of his brother crying, hysterically.

"Hey, hey.. are you okay!?"

He ran over to Gerard and put his arm around him. "What's wrong?" Gerard looked at his brother, the craving for raw flesh still driving him crazy. Gerard was sweating, breathing heavily, and their fingers were trembling like crazy. "It's.. It's just a nightmare I had, uh.. That's all..." Gerard lied,, he genuinely didn't want to worry Mikey, let alone have him find out Gerard has a seriously messed wound on their neck.

"Oh, it's just a nightmare?"

Mikey asked, sounding relieved. "You scared me for a second, Gerard!" He smiled, putting his arm around his brother again. "Sorry.. It just really scared me... I'm fine, really." Gerard apologized again, hoping Mikey could end his visit soon, as they are unsure how long he could resist the urge to attack someone and eat their flesh. Mikey questioned Gerard,

"Are you sure? You look tired and pretty pale, here, let me make you some soup. You rest yourself."

He lead his sibling to the couch, sitting him down on it before going to the kitchen to cook some soup. "Thank you, Mikey..." Gerard croaked. "I'm just.. really tired right now. I think I'll just go rest for a bit..." He closed his eyes as Mikey made some soup for him. His mind was still craving for flesh, and they were starting to get drowsy now. His brother nodded, before starting to make the soup.

As Gerard fell asleep, something took over him, like the craving was sentient, and had enough of being pushed away. Gerard's body stood up, twitching lightly, it soon started to stumble around, trying to find something to sustain it's hunger for flesh. Mikey was none the wiser, soon finishing the soup and going to Gerard, only to see them stumbling.

"Gerard? Are you okay?"

He asked, concerned, which Gerard hissed in reply, lunging to Mikey, which made him drop the hot bowl in order to fight off his sibling. "What the fuck?!" He shouted, as he ran away from Gerard as they lunged at him. As Mikey ran, he realized that they were much faster than he normally would be, especially as sick. Mikey managed to stunt Gerard, for now, but he knew he would get back up. Mikey was stuck in his frantic thoughts, running out of the house while Gerard chased after.

Mikey went to his car, closing and locking the door. He wasn't sure what got into Gerard, but it was beyond normal and he needed to call the ambulance. While he did, a growling Gerard was trying to get in, clawing at the car window, leaving streaks of blood. However, they were soon distracted by something in the distance. It was a rabbit, oblivious to what was happening.

Seemingly finding an easier target, Gerard sprinted to the rabbit, snatching it before biting into it with a sickly snap. Mikey watched in horror as Gerard did this, it seemed like he was eating the poor thing. After a bit of this scene going on, Gerard suddenly stopped. No growling, no chewing, nothing. They then dropped the rabbit before collapsing, like a puppet would if you cut its strings. They laid there for a good while, before Gerard started to shakily sit back up, like as if he just woke up from a nap.

Gerard looked around, immediately noticing the blood all over his hands and face, then the corpse of the rabbit. Their eyes widened, did they do this? "No, no, no, no, is Mikey okay?? Don't tell me he.." Thoughts frantically went and gone as Gerard frantically looked around, hoping to God his brother was okay.

That was when he looked at the car, seeing a terrified Mikey on the phone, talking with the operator, Gerard backed away, terrified on the realization that they tried attacking Mikey. "God.. What is happening to me..." They teared up, disturbed by what he did, and what was happening to their body.

"Mikey, listen-"

Gerard stood up, cautiously going to the car Mikey is in. Their brother, reasonably, was absolutely horrified and was asking many questions,

"What the fuck happened!? Why did you try to attack me?!" Gerard tried to reasonably explain each question, but honestly they didn't even know, himself, "I.. Uh... Got bit by something, I don't know what, but I think it's linked with what's been happening-.." Mikey didn't really believe Gerard, has he actually lost his mind? Does he really think this injury they got is affecting him like this!? Well, seeing Gerard's behavior, and how his physical appearance was beyond concerning, they may not be far off from the truth.

".. Gerard, are you implying you got bitten by a vampire??"

He asked, confused and, albeit, freaked out by what his sibling is talking about. "I mean, I guess, but this bite doesn't look like the typical '2 holes' bite.. It looks, gnarled up..." Gerard shrugged as they replied to Mikey's question, like as if it was fine. The younger let out a sigh,

"Listen, I don't a fuck where the bite came from, or what the hell it looks like. You need to go to a hospital!"

"This isn't even something the doctors can help with, Mikey!!"

Gerard exclaimed, "What do you think what will happen when we go to a hospital with a gnarled bite mark that we don't know the source off that's causing me to do shit like eating literal living beings!?"

Mikey sighed, his older sibling had a good point, even if they did go through the doctors, what could they do? Put a band aid and kiss on the wound?? Mikey sighed, thinking about it, then, he had a thought pop in his head,

"Gerard, I got an idea."

A Second Chance, Take a Life, Another Mission

Original Publish Date: October 15, 2022

Fandom/Theme: My Chemical Romance, zombies/zombie infection

Being Continued: Very likely not

Website of First Publish: Quotev, published on former account @/wayliens, now on @/biologicalweapon

Description (see below):

Gerard wakes up in an odd area outside in the cold, with no other memory of what happened beforehand, they decide it wasn't much to worry about. However, as the day goes on, he notices some odd changes with themself. And during a questioning by a store employee, Gerard finds out news that seemed like a nightmare more than anything. But this was no dream, this isn't a fairytale, it's a horror movie, and he's the protagonist of this odd, twisted story.

[saltybaltic]

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - THE AFTERMATH

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: Part 2 of EXPOSURE. The morning after being hit with a libido increasing gas, you wake up in bed with your team mate.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual content

Words: 1922

Waking up the next morning it took a few moments for you to get your bearings. The thing that struck you first was how much your body ached and the dull throb of an oncoming migraine. You felt like you’d been for the workout of your life without stretching first, every muscle in your body tight and over exerted. The dryness in the back of your throat was unbearable but pushing yourself up from the mattress to try and find water was made more difficult by the arm of someone else draped over your waist.

Almost immediately the memories of the night before hit you like a freight train and your stomach churned with the anxiety inducing realisation of what had happened. You needed to get some space to process your thoughts, peeling yourself delicately out of Natasha’s hold and slipping out of the sheets as quietly as you could. The scramble for some clothing felt undignified, pulling on the first pair of shorts and t shirt you could find in a bid to cover yourself. Not that it mattered really. Natasha had already seen enough.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths as you tried to think clearly. Reliving the night before in your head was bizarre, almost like you were watching someone else’s memories and unable to quite comprehend that it was in fact you that had done all those things. But the images were there as clear as day, seared into your brain like a scar.

It was all you could focus on no matter how hard you tried to think of something else. Memories of Natasha’s naked body moulded with yours beneath the bed sheets for hours on end. You could still feel the softness of her skin, the way her body had shook with pleasure, her hot breath against the side of your neck as she moaned out your name, the way her fingers had seemed to fit so perfectly inside of you. Your body flushed hot as every detail came back to you. The filthy words she had spoken in your ear. The way she tasted on your tongue. The look on her face as she came.

You felt guilty as you thought back on what had happened. You’d had no control over your actions and as the effects of the gas had started to consume you properly, it was like a wild, untamed side of yourself had come to the surface and taken the wheel. Nothing had been enough. Every orgasm only seemed to make you hungry for more and you were positive that Natasha had to regret her decision to try and help you.

Daring a look at the other woman in the bed, you felt your guilt worsen. Her hair was sticking up in every direction, a smudge of eyeliner that she hadn’t had chance to remove evident on her face. From what you could see of her body poking out of the covers it seemed you’d made the most of marking your territory for the evening, her neck and hips sporting some impressive bruises. It was only as you cast your eyes over your work that you became aware of the stinging soreness on your own shoulders, the memory of Natasha dragging her fingernails harshly over your skin coming back to you.

It made you feel worse, unable to help wondering whether Natasha would have actually wanted any of this. Had you simply made it seem like she didn’t have a choice but to go along with it? Too lost in your frenzy to care about checking whether what you were doing was okay? You both had to go back to work after this, surely the red head wouldn’t be overly pleased that you had pretty much branded her for the whole world to see.

Your stomach turned over again, your headache worsening further as you groaned and turned away from the bed, unable to look any longer. How were you possibly going to recover from this? You liked Natasha. A lot. And you were certainly attracted to her but it felt like this had tainted anything that could happen in the future. She was probably going to resent you now and you couldn’t say you blamed her.

A sinking feeling swept over your body as your heard the unmistakable sound of someone stirring in the bed behind you, bracing yourself for what would happen next. There was a few seconds of sheer panic as you found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to turn and look at the other woman all the while knowing that it was only more awkward for you to keep your back to her. She groaned quietly, stretching in the bed as she woke up and you found yourself grateful that she spoke first, sure that you lacked the strength to vocalise anything at that moment.

“I didn’t know whether I should stay.” started Natasha, her voice hoarse and quiet from sleep as she cleared it before speaking again, “But I didn’t want to leave you alone and it felt cheap to leave. Sorry if I overstepped.”

Turning slowly on the spot, you folded your arms protectively over your chest and gave her a disbelieving look, “You’re sorry?”

“Well yeah.” shrugged Natasha, pulling the sheets up to her chest to cover herself as she sat up straighter, “It’s your room. Didn’t want to be rude.”

You rubbed at your chin and nodded slowly, “Think we’re a little past friendly politeness now.”

“I guess so ... are you okay?”

“I ...” you trailed off with a sigh, dropping your hands to your sides as you bowed your head, “Look I’m sorry Nat, I really don’t know what to say.”

Pushing herself up against the pillows, Natasha tilted her head and gave you a sympathetic smile, “What are you sorry for exactly?”

“Well ... you know ...”

Natasha laughed quietly, wrapping the sheet tighter around her body, “You weren’t this shy last night.”

You felt your cheeks flush hot at her words, raising the back of your hand to press against them as you ducked your head with an embarrassed grin, “Yeah well ... last night I was ...”

“Uninhibited?” offered Natasha, raising a brow as you lifted your head to look back at her, “Bruce said you wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do.”

You wet your lips with a nod, trying to get a read on what the other woman wanted from you but unable to do so, “But you weren’t. You didn’t-“

“Do anything I didn’t want to.” cut in Natasha, seeing where you were going and stopping you immediately, “Don’t think so highly of yourself that I couldn’t stop you if I needed to. I could still kick your ass on your best day.”

You snorted out a laugh, “I don’t know about that.”

Raising her arms above her head, Natasha tilted her neck from side to side as she pointed her toes and stretched her body out fully with a satisfied sigh, “Well maybe not right now, I’m kind of tired. You were pretty insatiable last night.”

“Shut up.” you mumbled, rubbing at the side of your nose and turning away from her to hide your embarrassment.

Natasha chuckled, “Oh so you’re gonna be coy with me now?”

“I just ... are we okay?”

Casting her eyes over you slowly, Natasha could see in your body language that you were somewhat uncomfortable. She saw the guilt and uncertainty in your eyes and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the turmoil you were struggling to vocalise. She patted the spot beside her on the bed and shuffled across to make room for you, “Come here.”

Cautiously you made your way over to the other woman, sinking down onto the mattress beside her but unable to look at her yet.

“I think we’re at a point now where we can speak candidly with one another. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You nodded your head silently, fidgeting restlessly with the hem of your shorts.

“You don’t need to feel bad or worry about what happened. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. And I hope I didn’t pressure you into anything either?”

Her question made you finally raise your head to look back at her, shaking your head with enthusiasm to assure her you were telling the truth as you spoke, “Of course not.”

“I’m attracted to you. And you’re attracted to me?” she paused as she waited for your response, a small smile tugging at her lips as you nodded your head, “And I think we had a pretty good time? If not a little ... frantic.”

You laughed quietly, “I would agree.”

“Maybe that wasn’t the perfect way for things to happen for us. But I could see you were having a hard time and it was an easy decision for me to make to ... look after you.” Natasha smirked at her choice of words, something you couldn’t help but mirror, “So if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t say no to maybe exploring this further.”

For a moment you said nothing, just absorbing what Natasha had said as you searched her face only to find sincerity staring back at you, “That would be nice.”

“Although maybe we could start with dinner next time? I might need to rest up before we go again.” teased Natasha, a mischievous grin on her face as you pushed her shoulder playfully and chuckled.

“Dinner sounds good.”

Natasha smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek that had your heart fluttering, “So I suppose that gives you your answer. Yes, we’re okay.”

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

--

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

[lawluaficionado]

No Devil Fruit AU, where Law is part of a dangerous syndicate. He's feared by almost everyone. Except his fiance, Luffy. Not many have seen this mysterious boyfriend of the all powerful crime boss, Law, but those who have know that it's Luffy who should be feared.

Little snippet for inspiration! Might be a lil gross, so don't read if you're squeamish.

It had been a tedious night. Law pours himself another glass of bourbon as Penguin recounts the screams their ex-colleagues let out.

"Man! Next time I want to go in too!" Shachi laments.

Law sighs, "If Bepo had stayed home then you could've. But I asked you to watch him. You know how his fur gets nasty in humid areas."

Bepo, Law's five year old Great Pyrenees, whines at their feet.

"But you sure did miss a lot! Boss renoved their hearts one by one. I think the last one died before he even started from all the shock," Penguin is giddy in his seat.

"Make sure to send those out tomorrow," Law reminds him.

"Yes boss!" they both answer. The bag containing the hearts are in the passenger seat next to his driver.

"Almost home. Are we getting the young sir his order of food?" Jean Bart, ever the lifesaver, asks.

His sweetheart would love that, but he's not getting shit if he's acting this way.

His mood worsening by the minute. He's called Luffy five times already and the teen hasn't answered. Did he forget an anniversary? Birthday? No way. If anything it would be his beloved who would forget something, so why are his calls being ignored.

In the end he gives in, "Yes. Just go ahead and get him the usual."

"And mine!" Penguin states.

"Me too!" Shachi cheers.

Jean Bart grunts, "You can both get off and get your own shit."

Soon, his phone is ringing. Not his personal phone. His work phone.

"Speak," Law grumbles. Seriously, they just parted ways not too long ago. What in the world could've been so important that they needed to call him.

"Boss! Oh thank god I reached you, we just got to the house and the gates are run over!" Ikkaku gives him a brief statement of the mess his mansion is in.

Law calms down, 'Ahhh, no wonder his baby didn't answer him. He's having fun too,' he smiles to himself.

"-and we're pretty sure mister Luffy is still inside! It's Bellamy's gang and himself here! So far we've taken care of the stragglers outside. What do you want us to do?"

Law smirks, "Lock up any escape there is."

"This is Bellamy sir, are you sure you want that?" Ikkaku sounds worried.

"Lock it up, make sure whoever is inside the mansion STAYS inside with my sweetheart. We'll still be a while, I know Luffy will be starving." Law hangs up the phone and relaxes.

He should've known Luffy had a reason not to answer him. Of course he should think about getting him an extra portion...he's going to be so so hungry.

When Law's car finally gets to the mansion, Jean Bart opens up his door. Bepo is the first to run out. Next is Law in his midnight blue suit ruined with dark red splotches from earlier activities.

Jean Bart closes the door in Shachi's face. They can open it themselves, he smiles as he turns back to the task at hand which meant carefully taking the bag of once beating hearts.

His subordinates are all gathered in the driveway, a few bodies next to them. It's a good thing he's in the good graces of his neighbors. No one here is going to mention any of this to those pesky cops. Lest they also want to be removed.

"Alright, listen up I want this place spotless by the next morning. Someone call up Franky to get me a new gate."

Penguin and Shachi both carry those take out boxes from the car, almost dropping them when they hear a blood curling scream from the direction of the house. They both grin.

"Why, I almost feel bad for those poor motherfuckers," Penguin continues to snicker.

Bepo immediately runs to the doors, growling to be let in. Law calmly walks behind him.

Ikkaku comes with them too, "We did as you asked boss. A few of the gang members were thrown out of windows on the third floor. It's been cleaned up out here."

"Good, I want to see the mess my beloved has made," chuckles Law.

Ikkaku unlocks the main house entrance and removes the blockage.

Upon entering the mansion, he can feel the tell-tell sign of an incoming headache. There's blood smeared on those once pristine pearl white walls, broken glass, broken furniture, and a few people groaning in pain. All from what he can assume are Bellamy's men.

A snap of his fingers and Shachi has already put a bullet in their heads. Not as quick as he would usually, seeing as he had precious food in his other hand.

"Get someone to start cleaning here. After dinner of course." Law walks up the stairs then, only Bepo leading the way. Everyone else went to start eating. They've dined in worse places, they'll be fine.

The stairs are no better than the entrance to the house. There's blood on the rails, ripped hair strands, and broken glass. He swears he saw a finger on one of the steps. Thank heavens Bepo didn't eat it.

Another pained scream is heard and then the crackling sound stops everything altogether.

Law enters his bedroom to find a sniffling Luffy. Their room in complete chaos. One of the posts to their bed is completely cracked. The TV is in ruins and the mini fridge is making a concerning sound.

"Come here baby, what's wrong?" he worries something must've gone terribly wrong. Luffy hardly cries over something like a fight. Especially one where he just singlehandedly slaughtered more than a fifty people, including their leader.

Covered in blood, Luffy walks toward Law, holding something carefully in his arms.

"He broke it," he sniffles. "Please don't be mad."

In his hands is the first picture they took on their first anniversary. Of course it was only the frame that was shattered.

"Lu-ya, it's alright. I'll get another for our room," he gently cradles the teen's face in his hands.

Luffy smiles, practically beaming, "OKAY! Did you get dinner! I'm starving Torao!!" Just like that he's back to his normal state. He's skipping around, joyful and playful as ever.

"You know I did, couldn't leave my sunshine without his favorite take out," he brushes hair out of Luffy's face ojce he's gotten him to stop his movements. But he's still covered in blood, that's more than likely not his.

"Did you see how many I took out!? I took care of the house too!" Luffy laughs, so carelessly, innocent eyes looking up at his fiance.

"Lu-ya, all I ask is that next time you make sure you move the fight out of our bedroom," he stares at Bellamy on his bedroom floor. Bepo still growling at the dead man.

"I couldn't help it! It was a surprise attack!" he pouts.

And everyone knows that the big, bad boss can't resist a cute face. It's only a matter of time before his other enemies realize that too. But for their sake, they should also realize that Luffy isn't just a cute face for Law. No. Luffy is just as terrifying, if not more, than his psychopath boyfriend. What can you do though? I guess their enemies will just have to find out the hard way.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Getaway

The trip to Scotland.

cw nausea and vomiting but no details I promise, fainting I think?  I don't really remember, dizziness, food mentions, let me know if I need to add something more I haven't looked at this chapter in a while and I a posting in a rush.

Martin’s hand is damp in his.  The same tacky, salty grit of the Lonely fog.  A little bit of fog trapped between their tangled fingers, or maybe just the anxious sweat of two people who don’t really know each other as well as they should.  

If Jon is being honest, it’s not a comfortable sort of hand holding, but he doesn’t care.  He will keep clinging to Martin’s hand as if that single point of contact can keep Martin weathered to the physical plane.  

It makes packing more difficult, but Jon doesn’t care.  Not as if he hasn’t been living out of a backpack for months, or anything.  (Longer still if you count living off a shelf before most of his belongings were ruined in the flesh attack).  Still, he stuffs in the few items not in his back, and takes a healthy stack of statements and shoves those in, too.  Probably depressing that he can fit those in a single bag with all his earthly belongings.  

Jon doesn’t feel well.  

He hasn’t felt well in a while.  But the exhaustion is getting to him.  Apparently shredding a person with his mind is a bit rough on the body.  Even if the supernatural hunger is more than sated.  

Heh.  The unnatural feeling of being content and full and powerful at the same time as hallow and shakes and weak.  It would be enough to make him dizzy, if he wasn’t already dizzy.  If he hasn’t been dizzy constantly since statements were limited to empty paper, as if he hasn’t been dizzy since his early 20s and his POTS diagnosis.  (And before, but that’s where he was still convinced it was nothing).  

Jon is loathed to let go of Martin’s hand when he starts Daisy’s ancient car.  It’s more than a little beat up.  Jon tries very hard not to remember Mike Crew’s blood in the back seat.  It’s clean now.  Mike’s blood and Jon’s vomit long since scrubbed away.  Nothing quite like being carsick at gunpoint.  

Jon shivers.  

He can’t let himself think about Daisy now.  Such a confusing jumble of anger and fear and sadness and regret and friendship and comradely and resentment.  It’s… it’s too much for him to take in.  

He hasn’t ever been able to reconcile his feelings about Daisy, and now it’s worse.  Worsened with his exhaustion.  They were friends, they were enemies, and he couldn’t give up on her because that would mean that he was also lost.  She hurt him and she loved him in a way.  He couldn’t forgive her and  she was his closest friend for a while.  She was terrible, is terrible, but she was all he had and he loved her for being there.  It’s too much to think about.  And Basira.  Christ, he feels terrible losing Daisy like that, and yes he loved her in a way, but he wasn’t in love with her like Basira is, and he knows the helplessness and emptiness of losing someone he’s in love with.  

He shakes his head roughly.  The bite of headache and way the world sickly twists in and out of focus for a moment distracts him enough to start the car.  He looks over at Martin, pale but solid.  He reaches for Martin’s hand as he drives them to Martin’s flat.  

Jon has to do most of the packing for Martin.  Martin more attached to him than free thinking individual.  Drifting after him, pulled taught by their tethered hands.  A balloon pulled along by the wrist of a small child on a rollercoaster.  Although Jon can’t fault him for that, he thinks that might be an apt description for how he’s feeling.  …Pulled along by unknowable forces beyond his control.  And he’s flapping helplessly in the breeze of a battle far bigger than him.  

No.  Focus.  

Martin.  

Shove clothes and toiletries and tea and books and a few items that Jon judges to look treasured.  A worn stuffed tiger, a few faded pictures, a deck of tarot cards, he even takes the ratty binder that are shoved under the other ones (the nicer ones that Jon has already packed with the essentials), a tattered notebook under a layer of dust, a well loved poetry book, a small box of earrings, and what looks to be Martin’s knitting.  

It’s still a pitifully small amount of luggage for an indefinitely long trip.  The large first aid kit that he found makes him feel a little better.  (Emotionally, but also physically after he downs some paracetamol.  He eyes the dramamine, but he’s going to be driving and he can’t risk getting drowsy.  It’s not like they have time to stop).   

Nausea twists down deep before Jon even starts the car.  Catching at his stomach as he settles Martin’s bags in the back seat.  Still trying to search out the stains that are long gone.  

And oh fuck he killed someone.  

And yeah the bastard deserved it, but Christ he feels sick.  Sitting behind the wheel, staring blankly ahead.  

Martin’s hand in his.  

Martin squeezes his hand.  

Jon squeezes back.  

It’s fine.  He’s fine.  Just… Just drive.  

It’s the next step, and he has always been good at pushing from one step to the next.  Don’t worry about what happens next, just drive.  

Martin is here and… not fine, but alive and whole, and slowly thawing next to him.  

“Hey…”  Jon forces his tight throat and tighter chest to allow the word past.  

They haven’t spoken since Basira told them where to go and gave them a ring of keys.  

This almost shakes Martin out of his stupor.  Almost.  “Hey,” he echos.  

Jon wants to pack so much into a question.  How do you ask everything?  Are you okay?  Do you love me?  Do you know I love you?  Do you need anything?  Are you sure you want to come all this way with me?  Are you okay with moving in with me?  Are you hungry?  If the fog comes for you, will you tell me?  But those are too many words.  Martin starts looking glazed over when there is too much going on.  Too much movement, too many people, too much sound, too many questions.  And Jon wonders if the Lonely only served to magnify this, and if so, did he notice?  Did Martin hide it well?  Did Jon make it worse?  What if he makes it worse now, but what if he makes it worse by not saying anything.  

“You ready?”  This will have to be enough.  

Martin nods, apparently not noticing the pause.  

Jon tries not to jump out of his skin when Martin starts rubbing circles on Jon’s hand.  It’s surprising, but it feels nice.  

More than nice.  

Jon starts the car.  

It’s chilly.  Late September.  And it’s getting dark.  Both in that the sun is going down, and in that storm clouds are gathering.  

Jon knows they can’t stop for the night.  

He just has to get them to Scotland.  Hopefully then it will all be okay.  

They stop at a service station just out of the city.  Jon gets a black coffee.  He buys Martin a tea and a sandwich.  

He knows the coffee won’t do his stomach any favors, and will more likely than not set his heart to hammering, but it will be worth it not to fall asleep at the wheel.  

He can’t let Martin drive until Martin looks like less like a space cadet.  

But Jon hopes the tea brings color back to Martin’s face, even if he can’t quite tell in the sickly light of the service station, or the dim light of the evening as Jon tops up the petrol.  

Highway before and behind, and Jon is throwing up.  Pulled to the wrong side of the road in the dark and the rain.  Trembling as Martin rubs his back and gently pulls back his hair.  

They aren’t even halfway there.  His heart is beating too quickly.  Anxiety?  Caffeine?  POTS?  Nausea?  Who’s to say.  But Jon is miserable, but there isn’t much choice, because being a passenger will make it worse, even if that would mean he could take some medicine.  But Martin is in not fit state to drive.  And Martin must know that, because for all his soothing, he doesn’t offer to drive.  Or he almost offers, but Jon can see the thought die on his lips.  Besides, Jon is fairly certain Martin can’t drive a manual transmission car.  Not that Jon is particularly good at it, and stalled the engine twice leaving London.  

The occasional car and lorry thunders past.  On the side of the road, Jon can feel their movement in his core.  He worries how he will get them safely back on the road, as he spits in the dirt.  

“Sorry.  Let’s go,” he mumbles his embarrassment to Martin.  

He tries to ignore the pitying look that Martin has fixed on him.  

“Sure we can’t stop?”  

Jon shakes his head, and the dizziness threatens to take him down.  He sags against Martin for a moment.  “Can’t risk it.  Perils of being on the run, I’m afraid.”  

Martin frowns at him.  

“I’m fine.  Just… tired and… well, carsick.  We’ll be there by morning.”

“Yeah and the fact that you basically collapsed against me is something I’m just supposed to ignore?”  

Jon waves him off.  

The brief conversation seems to have stolen all of Martin’s words.  He quietly gets back in the car, and Jon shudders and sways without Martin’s warm bulk holding him up.  

He starts the car, and takes Martin’s hand.  

Just a few more hours.  Then they can rest.  

[iwritesickfic]

"i kinda have a crush"

synopsis: Henry has a crush on his roommate's best friend Tom. When he gets sick, he's not sure whether Tom's concern means he feels the same.

Henry doesn't have time for a cold. Especially not now. Finals start next week, and between studying for exams, finishing final projects, and going to class, pretty much all his time is going to be occupied. Today, he woke up with a headache and a sore throat, which he's trying to convince himself is just a product of poor sleep, but deep down he knows is just the beginning of something worse to come.

Now, he's in his room, wrapped in his comforter and highlighting passages in his bio textbook, hearing his roommate Sam and his loud friends watching something equally loud in the living room. It's useless trying to ask them to quiet down - he learned after the sixth or seventh time asking that even though they all seem accommodating, they forget pretty quickly. Normally he'd be able to tune them out, but his steadily worsening headache is making it near impossible.

He gets up and starts pulling on clothes - the walk to the library may be freezing, but at least he'll get some quiet. Leaving his room, he's aware of how pissed off he must look, but he doesn't care enough to feign politeness to Sam and his friends.

He heads to the kitchen and grabs his travel mug - he's going to need coffee if he's going to last at the library. He's just filling it up when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hey! Henry! I didn't know you were home!" It's Tom. He's probably Sam's best friend - at the very least, he's the friend who's over more than anyone else. Henry suppresses a sigh. Tom is the exact kind of guy he doesn't like. Bro-y, athletic, always overly friendly to everyone - it just comes off as phony. It also just so happens that guys like this are always very attractive, and Tom is no exception. He turns around to grab milk from the fridge.

"Hey," he says, trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels.

"If I knew you were here I would've been a little quieter - you have finals coming up too, right?" Tom asks, leaning against the door frame in that way he always does.

"Mmhmm. It's fine. I'm going to the library." Talking to Tom is not helping the throbbing in his head. He starts to add the sugar and milk to his coffee.

"Are you sure? I can ask the guys to quiet down."

"No, it's fine." He snaps the cover onto his coffee and starts toward the door.

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, you too." When he closes the front door he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He starts down the stairs. Being around people like that is exhausting on a normal day - Henry's always been quiet. Reserved. With the beginnings of a cold it's almost aggravating.

The frigid air outside makes his throat burn and his eyes water. His nose starts to run too, and he hopes it's just the temperature and not a new symptom. Knowing his luck he's going to be the one annoying person in the library constantly sniffling.

His time at the library is mostly uneventful, apart from going through a pack of travel tissues and getting dirty looks from other students. By the time they're ready to close, he feels significantly worse than he did this morning, but he's finished his biology review and is almost done with a paper for Transformative Design.

The trudge home feels like it takes forever - it's only about a 15 minute walk, but between the cold and feeling like crap it seems neverending. He can hear from the hallway outside the apartment that Sam's friends are still here, which makes him want to tear his hair out.

It's almost midnight when they leave, so it's only about that time he can get to sleep. He has class the next morning at 8, and when he wakes up with his alarm, he knows he's in for a full blown cold. His head still aches, and his sinuses feel sore and swollen. His throat kills too, and he feels shivery, despite the heavy comforter.

He lets himself lie in bed for a while, sniffling and trying to absorb as much warmth as he can from the comforter, before he drags himself up. He immediately pulls on his warmest sweater, even though he's just going to the bathroom. It doesn't help the shivering much, but it's something. He probably looks ridiculous, in just a pair of boxers and his oversized sweater, but he feels so shitty he doesn't really care.

Walking by the couch, he sees Tom asleep, shirtless. His heart flutters - he knew Tom was fit but it was something else to see it. The butterflies are almost annoying. There a million guys on campus, why does he have to get so worked up over this one?

In the shower, he cranks up the heat and lets the steam ease the aching in his sinuses. He's in there for too long, but the thought of having to actually walk to class in the cold makes him reluctant to get out.

He arrives to class a few minutes late - nose still dripping from the cold. Luckily today is just a lecture, but it's a five hour class, and he didn't have time to make any coffee this morning. He brought another little travel pack of tissues, but he's definitely going to have to ration them.

He's still shivering. It's worse after being out in the cold, and even though it should get better over time, nothing changes. He just sits there, achy and shivering and congested and miserable until 10:30, when the professor calls for a 10 minute break. Thank god. He needs coffee. There's a small shop in the building, so he forces himself up and out of his seat - which leads to a few seconds of particularly bad throbbing in his head - and out into the hall.

He almost groans when he sees who's working. Tom. Of course he's been to this little coffee spot a million times and he knows it's where Tom works, but he didn't think he'd have to see him this morning. Part of him is annoyed - he definitely does not have the energy to deal with him at the moment - but another part is a little embarrassed at how awful he must look. Not that he should care what Tom thinks of him, he reminds himself. Regardless, he walks up the counter, half occupied rubbing at his nose with a tissue.

"Hey," he says, and is surprised how congested he sounds. Tom turns, eyes lighting up.

"Hey!" He dims a little when he takes in his full appearance. "You ok?" Henry sniffles.

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get-"

"Large hot coffee, oat milk and sugar, right?" Henry's taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. You know my order?"

"Of course. It's an easy order." He goes about starting to make the drink. "Hope we didn't keep you up last night. I kept telling Sam to shut the fuck up but he doesn't listen to me."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He sniffles again.

"You sound like you're coming down with something."

"And you sound like my mom." That makes Tom laugh, and again, Henry feels a stirring in his chest. Tom puts the lid on the drink and hands it to him, and Henry tries to hand him the money. Tom shakes his head.

"That's ok - on the house." That draws a little smile out of Henry. Tom smiles back, and for a minute he forgets how shitty he feels. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

He heads back to class and sits down, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes great, as always when Tom makes it, and the warmth helps to ease the chills at least somewhat. The rest of the lecture is spent half paying attention, and half worrying his sniffling and nose blowing is annoying. When it's finally over, he wants nothing more than to just go home and take a nap, but he has a problem set for calculus due tomorrow that he hasn't even started. So, reluctantly, he makes the trek to the library. He's able to work for most of the day uninterrupted - he's not very hungry, which maybe should be concerning but is convenient nonetheless.

By the time he's done, it's already dark out, and the walk home is brutal. The wind is whipping, and his scarf and hat aren't doing much to keep the cold out. His nose is running like a faucet and the cough he developed over the course of the day drags the cold air even further into his lungs. The coughs hurt, like they come from somewhere deep in his chest, and by the time he gets home his throat is destroyed.

When he gets home, he's glad to see Sam isn't making a racket for once. Still, he knows he's in for a restless night anyway. He puts a can of soup on the stove to heat up while he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie. His reflection in the mirror is definitely a sight - he's flushed from the cold, his hair a mess, and his eyes red rimmed.

He knows he should really fit in some more studying before he calls it a night, but after he picks at his soup and does the dishes, he's ready to fall over, so he just curls up in bed, coughing and shivery, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up a few times in the night coughing, and the soreness in his throat makes his eyes water. He's barely able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. His shivers have become more like shakes, and his cough feels like it never stops. He got a decent amount of sleep, but he still feels totally exhausted - even his muscles are sore.

His classes are a blur - he's too preoccupied with feeling awful to focus, and by the time he's done at 6, all he wants to do is go home and sleep until tomorrow morning. But, he knows he has to get at least one assignment done. After tomorrow, he'll have the whole weekend to relax. Not totally, but still.

Just the assignment tonight, classes tomorrow, then he can finally get some rest. The library probably isn't a good choice - his cough is too distracting, and he knows the walk home later will be torture. So instead, he goes back to the apartment. The cold air always exacerbates the cough, so the whole way home he's hacking, his nose running like a faucet. His ribs have started to hurt from all the coughing.

He almost wants to cry when he gets home and hears the sound of Sam and his friends in the living room. Why tonight of all nights? He trudges into his bedroom and changes - he's started to feel warm, which is a relief after feeling so cold all the time, but now it's becoming a both too warm and too cold feeling, so he tugs on his sweater and a fresh pair of boxers.

He starts to work on the physics problem set - there are only three problems total, but each of them usually take an hour at least, and that's when he's not feeling like death. He works for a while, but it's only when he starts to feel lightheaded he realizes he hasn't eaten yet today.

So, he heads into the kitchen and rummages around for a can of chicken noodle. He finds it, but he's too weak and shaky to work the can open right. He tries for a good three minutes before he feels a lump form in his throat.

"Hey, do you want some help with that?" He turns to see Tom standing in the doorway. Self consciously, he sniffles and clears his throat.

"Uh, y-yeah, that would be great." Tom smiles softly and walks over, making quick work of the can. Henry expects him to just go back into the living room, but he grabs the pot from the cabinet and turns on the stove.

"You've got quite a cough there." Henry feels himself blush. They all must be able to hear him from his room.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, no, no don’t be sorry. We make enough noise, you’re allowed to be sick.” He pours the soup into the pot and starts to grab spices from the shelf.

“I’m not sick.” Henry isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but Tom doesn’t challenge him, just smirks.

“Well whatever it is, it sounds brutal.” He shakes a few of the spices into the soup, stirring slowly.

“I’m ok. Really.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence before someone calls Tom from the other room. He looks a little dismayed, but puts on a smile.

“Feel better, ok?” He rests his arm on Henry’s upper arm, giving him a soft smile, before heading back into the living room. And there’s that fluttering in his chest again.

On his way back to his room, he catches a bit of a conversation.

“I think we should go out.” That’s Tom’s voice.

“Nah dude, it’s freezing.” That’s Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Henry smiles to himself. Maybe it’s reaching to think Tom did that specifically for him, but part of him really hopes he did.

The rest of the night is blissfully quiet, apart from his incessant cough. By the time he’s finished with the last problem, it’s midnight, and the world is swimming. He’s never been happier to lie down. But, it’s short lived. Despite being exhausted, his cough and what he suspects is a fever are making it all but impossible to sleep. He drifts in and out of half-sleep, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold. Luckily his class isn’t until the afternoon, but he spends the whole morning much like the night before. When he finally gets up, he feels truly ready to fall over. His headache is horrendous, throbbing and pounding at the slightest provocation. His sinuses are still swollen, along with his poor throat that makes him wince with every swallow. The cough is the same if not a little worse, except now it sends cramping pain through his ribs.

On the walk to class, he just keeps repeating the same idea in his head. Just three hours, then you can rest. The class is truly a blur, but the walk home is too unpleasant to tune out. Once again, the freezing temperature isn’t any help, and forcing his aching body to walk through the snow gets harder with every step.

He turns the corner for the front door of his building, and a wave of relief washes over him. But, he’s confused when he sees someone standing near the buzzer. He’s even more confused when he realizes it’s Tom.

“Hey, uh, Sam isn’t here. He’s gone for the weekend.” He says, embarrassed at how thready and weak his voice sounds. Tom turns, looking confused.

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing.” He says, and Henry isn’t sure whether it’s the fever that’s keeping him from putting the dots together or this just doesn’t make sense.

“Sam isn’t upstairs,” he repeats, and Tom sighs gently.

“I’m not here to see Sam.” It still isn’t clicking. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Ok…” He unlocks the door and clumsily shakes the snow off his boots before getting into the elevator. Tom follows, and Henry figures someone else must be in the building that Tom wants to see, but Tom follows him right to the door. Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. “Tom, what do you want?”

For the first time, it looks like Tom might actually be nervous.

“I came to check up on you.” Henry suddenly feels a strange bundle of emotions unfurl in his stomach.

“Oh,” is all he can manage to get out. Tom bites his lip.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine, uh…” He takes a deep breath, but breaks into a fit of coughs before he can speak. He feels a steady hand on his back. After he’s done with the fit the world swims, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go inside so you can sit down, ok?” Henry just nods, and after a few moments of struggling to fit the key into the lock, Tom does it for him. Immediately, he strips off his scarf and coat and practically collapses onto the couch, pulling off his boots. He leans back into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“Fuck…” he breathes, and he hears Tom laugh quietly. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tom sitting in front of him on the coffee table, still looking nervous. “Why would you wanna check on me?”

“Well you didn’t seem so good last night, and I wanted to make sure you were ok. Even though you hate my guts,” he says with a smile. He starts to rummage through his backpack, and pulls out a bottle of tylenol and a thermometer, as well as a quart container of soup.

“I don’t hate your guts,” Henry says quietly, and Tom gives him another smile.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He leans forward and starts to move his palm toward his forehead, but hesitates. “Is this ok?” Henry nods, and sighs when he feels the cool palm on his overheated skin. He moves his hand to his cheek. “Jesus, you’re really burning up.”

He lets out another volley of coughs, and Tom rubs his back again. It feels nice, but it doesn’t make the confusion go away. For now though, he’s happy to just be looked after.

“Here.” Tom slips the thermometer under his tongue, brushing some of his hair away from his face. When it beeps, he takes it out. “102. Not so bad.” Henry has a feeling he’s saying that more for his benefit than his own. “You want me to grab you some more comfortable clothes?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles in return. “Alright.”

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, leaving Henry alone on the couch, finally giving him a moment to process all of this. Why on earth would Tom care about him? They’re not really friends, are they? And Tom was straight, wasn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d actually like Henry of all people. And did Henry even like him? Sure, he’s sweet and funny and impossibly hot, but he’s friends with Sam. And he’s on the soccer team. And he’s so outgoing and friendly all the time, wouldn’t that get annoying?

He almost doesn’t notice when Tom gets back.

“Here you go. You want me to go in the kitchen while you change?” He hands him the clothes, and Henry bites his lip.

“If you want to.” Is that a weird answer? Tom smirks.

“I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Henry starts to take off his shirt, but he’s so shaky and uncoordinated, Tom has to help him, which probably killed any romance the situation offered, he thinks. The clean fabric feels nice against his feverish skin. The pants go the same way, and he didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was until now.

“Here, lean your head back,” Tom says, and he does. Tom presses a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and he sighs softly. “That feels good?” He nods. There’s a few moments of silence while he just relaxes into the feeling. Then, he sits up straight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom looks nervous again.

“You’re my...friend. And I care about you,” he says, and Henry feels his heart sink a little.

“Oh. Ok.” He must sound disappointed, because Tom smiles.

“Hoping for a different answer?” Henry shrugs, and Tom rubs his jaw.

“I mean, it’s a little embarrassing but I used to...have a crush on you. But I think you made it kind of clear you weren’t interested.” Henry can’t hide his confusion.

“I made it clear?” He’s genuinely not sure what Tom is talking about. Sure, he’s never out right flirted with him, but he always thought he was straight anyway.

“Just...one word answers to everything, always seeming like you had somewhere else to be - it’s fine. I don’t know why I even brought it up. You want some soup?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles. “Ok, sounds good.”

He heads into the kitchen, and Henry’s mind runs a mile a minute. There’s no way he’s telling the truth right? But why would he lie? He comes back through the doorway and leans against the frame.

“It’s on the stove, just have to wait a few minutes. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, uh...I wanna tell you something.” Henry doesn’t know how he can make leaning against a doorframe look so good.

“Shoot.”

“I kinda had a crush on you too. Or...have.” He can feel himself blushing. Tom laughs.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” He’s beaming, and it makes Henry smile too.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so annoying,” he says, and Tom walks back over to the coffee table and sits down. Tom’s hand rests on his forehead, then makes its way down to his cheek. It feels so steady. Stable.

“I’m not the one that got themself sick with pneumonia because I wouldn’t miss a class, am I?” Without thinking, Henry wraps his arms around him as tight as he can - which isn’t very tight, but still. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. Tom rubs his back gently.

“Thank you, for doing all this,” he whispers, and Tom squeezes him a little bit tighter.

“Anytime.”

[uweiy]

The Mark/Ouwen sickfic no one asked for pt. 3

pt. 1/pt. 2

Ouwen is pulled out of his semi-sleep by Mark nudging his arm, carrying two bowls of soup he sets on the table next to the empty glass.

He helps Ouwen upright, before he moves the pillows aside and climbs onto the sofa next to him. He hands Ouwen a spoon "Here, eat."

Ouwen probingly takes one mouthful and immediately turns to Mark.

"Oh my god this... This is amazing !"

"I told you I'm good at this."

If Ouwen didn't feel hungry before, he does now. Before he knows it he has worked his way halfway through the bowl.

Mark watches him eat for a while.

"It helps right ?"

"Mmh. Ouwen nods between two spoonfuls. "It's really nice, thank you."

Mark smiles, seeming pleased. "My mom used to make this for me when I was sick. Here, have some more noodles."

___

Ouwen had thought Mark would leave after making lunch at least. But once they're done eating, the other stays sprawled on the couch and doesn't seem to make any move to leave.

"How are you feeling now ?" Mark asks when he finishes checking his phone.

Ouwen thinks about it. He isn't cold anymore which means the fever must have gone down. Speaking doesn't hurt that much either although his voice still has an unusual raspy grain to it.

"Much better really. Only my head still hurts.'

"Ah." Mark says "Turn around." He gestures for Ouwen to turn as he himself adjusts on the couch.

Then he works his fingers from the base of Ouwen's neck through Ouwen's hair, gently massaging his scalp in circular motions.

"Mark." Ouwen says after a while "Why are you doing this ?"

"... Hsuan Yu says this helps against headaches ?"

"Not that I mean. Everything."

'Ah." Mark's fingers come to a halt and Ouwen misses them already.

They restart. "...Just because. Can't I want to take care of you ?"

Ouwen stills. Luckily, Mark continues before he has to answer anything.

"You usually protest a lot more, too."

"Well," Ouwen says with his eyes closed "You didn't leave me much of a choice this time."

Mark snorts. "On purpose. Dai Ouwen, do you know how hard it is to do things for you ? Either I get ignored–"

"You were being annoying !"

"or misunderstood–"

"You had been asking for her phone number for the whole day !!"

or even reprimanded."

"He was my client !! I already explained myself for that time."

"Point is" Mark adds in a more serious tone "I get it. Usually you're the one... Problem solving for everyone. But other people can take care of you too. I–" he takes a deep breath "You can rely on me you know. I can do things for you."

Ouwen laughs bitterly. "You can't be there every time."

"Why not ?" Mark says, tentatively.

Ouwen has never known him say anything tentatively. He is loud, brazen, obvious in his intentions, never tentative.

For some reason Ouwen doesn't feel like diving too deep into this. What he feels however, is near hysteria bubbling up.

His head shrivels around "Because. You can't. Peopole change, things get in the way. Believe me, everyone promises a lot but original intentions never last long, that's just how it is. "

Only then does he realize how close he is to Mark's face. Again. And for some reason he can't look away.

They stare at each other, just breathing.

Mark seems like he's about to say something before he changes his mind and abruptly turns away and presses the button on the remote.

"Let's watch TV."

Ouwen hesitates a few seconds but lets it slide.

"Something quiet. Wouldn't want to worsen your headache."

They settle on a documentary about Sea Lions.

Although Mark said to keep quiet, he can't stop commenting on the documentary.

"Come on, this one totally looks like my boss."

Ouwen loses it when he starts voicing over the animals. He laughs so much his stomach hurts, earlier conversations forgotten.

___

At some point, Ouwen wakes up on Mark's shoulder, not sure of when he fell asleep. He's really starting to feel like this day is a series of him waking up and Mark unexpectedly being there.

"Lean on me, I don't mind." Mark says when Ouwen raises his head questioningly, still half asleep.

He has one arm lying behind Ouwen on the backrest of the couch and is staring straight at the TV wait– is he actually blushing ?

If it had been any other day Ouwen might have been embarrassed as well. As it was he was just grateful. He just stopped trying so hard to keep his head up and immediately sunk back against Mark's body. Heat was radiating from him like a furnace and it just felt nice.

"So, I have been doing some thinking" Mark says. Casually, as if he was still commenting on the documentary. "I think I like you."

Suddenly Ouwen doesn't feel like sleeping at all.

___

A.N: Originally I had planned to just write a snippet that could be inserted into canon but my brain kept being like "but what if–" so then I was just like 'fuck it' lol. Self indulgence ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯.

Anywaaaay next part should be the last one.

Previous/Next

[taetaemilktea]

Criminal Cuddles

Summary: It’s no secret that Taehyung is huge on physical affection and that Yoongi... well... just isn’t. But when Yoongi catches a cold and wants hugs and cuddles in the midst of his fever-ridden loneliness, Taehyung is happy to oblige—if only Namjoon wasn’t such a responsible leader.

Sickie: Yoongi

Caretaker: Taehyung, mild Namjoon and Seokjin

Word count: 1,996

Author’s Note: If you know me, you know I love contagion haha! You can expect a part 2 with sickie Taehyung in the future! Fic inspiration from @foreheadfeels. Thank you for reading!!

~~~

Slowly. Slowly. Sloooooowly. He was almost there. Two tiny tiptoes and Taehyung had reached the closed door to Yoongi and Seokjin’s room unnoticed. Smiling to himself, Taehyung quietly turned the door handle with utmost care to make as little noise as possible. He had the door knob turned all of the way and was about to quietly push the door open when he heard a stern, deep voice call out his name.

“Taehyung-ah.”

Shit.

Taehyung turned around to find Namjoon shaking his head, arms folded across his chest. He knew he was in for a lecture.

Yoongi had come down with a terrible cold a few days earlier that honestly resembled more of a flu given the fever that he had developed a few days into the illness. Hobi had caught him stifling messy, miserable sneezes into his sweatshirt sleeves, waking up later than his usual 7:00am for coffee, and had alerted the other members.

Seokjin had shoo-ed Yoongi into their shared bedroom, immediately giving him medicine and tissues in hopes that the cold wouldn’t worsen. His hopes had obviously been crushed. Yoongi had a fever, chills, and a horrible cough the next morning.

Immediately upon hearing that Yoongi was sick, Taehyung flung himself towards Yoongi’s room and aimed to get inside. Taehyung was Yoongi’s safe space when sick. Yoongi loved Hoseok more than words could explain and would call him his closest friend, but Hobi’s germaphobe tendencies meant that he was unavailable for sick cuddles. Taehyung, on the other hand, loved cuddles. He slept with a pillow in his arms and latched on to the members any chance he got.

Yoongi was known for always giving into whatever Taehyung wanted—playing extra rounds of games with him, handing over halves of his beloved tangerines when Taehyung asked for some. Yet, never one for physical affection, Yoongi would whine and push away when Taehyung tried to hug him. He just wasn’t big on physical affection.

When he was sick, however, he pulled a full 180 degrees. He would crave hugs and to be held, which is all Taehyung could ever hope to give his hyung. The caveat was that Namjoon was too responsible, noting that every time he let Taehyung in, Tae would exit Yoongi’s room the next day with the same budding cold. Namjoon became conditioned to keep a watchful eye on Taehyung whenever Yoongi, or any of the members for that matter, got sick. Speak of the devil—

“You’re not supposed to be going in there. Yoongi-hyung is sick and he needs to rest,” Namjoon frowned. Taehyung returned the frown with a pout.

“Aish, Namjoonie-hyung! Yoongi-hyung needs me!”

“He needs to take medicine and to sleep. I know you want to be with him but you can see him in a few days when he’s feeling better. I can’t have you going in there anymore, otherwise you’ll catch his cold.”

“But you and Seokjinnie-hyung go in there all of the time. Why can’t I go in too?”

“Seokjin and I give him medicine. And we refill his water and take his temperature to make sure that his fever isn’t too high, Tae.”

“I do that too,” Taehyung retorted, a bit offended that he too wasn’t considered a caretaker of the group. Namjoon couldn’t help but chuckle, uncrossing his arms to instead face palm.

“I mean, sure Taehyung-ah, you’re very helpful. But after you’re done with all of that, you always crawl into his bed, snuggle up close, and practically help him hold tissues to his nose. That’s literally how you catch his colds all the time. Besides, you have to record with the rest of the vocal line later this week and I can’t have you getting sick.”

Taehyung frowned. He knew Namjoon was right. Sometimes he wished his leader wasn’t so good at, well, being a leader. There had been countless times when he, always prone to catching colds, would have to postpone their vocal recordings because he was too congested or had a fever too high to go into the recording studio. He always felt guilty about it, but he equally felt guilty about being unable to cuddle Yoongi to make him feel better.

Namjoon sensed the younger man’s sadness and walked closer to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder and walking him away from Yoongi’s door.

“You can see him real soon, Tae-ah. You just have to wait a little while longer. How about we go pick up some lunch? Are you hungry?”

Taehyung shook his head. All he wanted was to hold Yoongi, to make him feel loved.

~~~

Taehyung spent the rest of his afternoon moping. He tried to work on lyrics for his mixtape, but his heart wasn’t in it. He had played a few games with Jungkook, but was unenthusiastic and let Jungkook win (even though the Golden Maknae probably would’ve won anyway). Hoseok and Jimin seemed to notice his sad demeanor and aimed to cheer him up, but both knew it wasn’t worth the effort. They settled for giving him hugs and patting him on the back to reassure him.

~~~

Cup of tea and medicine in hand, Seokjin quietly pushed open his bedroom door to find Yoongi fast asleep in bed. His hair was simultaneously sticking up in different directions and sticking flat to his forehead as beads of sweat collected on his brow. Even in sleep, the poor man looked absolutely miserable.

Seokjin placed the tea and medicine on the bedside table, grabbing the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet and returning to Yoongi’s bedside. He gently shook him awake.

“Yoongi-ah? Yoongi-ah, it’s time to wake up.”

Yoongi rolled over with his eyes still closed and gave a moan of discomfort, eyebrows knit in confusion. One more gentle shake and Yoongi blearily opened his eyes, looking up at Seokjin.

“I’d say ‘good morning’ but it’s clearly evening now,” Seokjin smirked, motioning to the dark night sky just behind the window blinds. Yoongi merely peered up with a dazed, sickly look.

“Your fever doesn’t look any better,” Seokjin frowned, sitting on the bed and preparing the thermometer. Yoongi seemed to think for a second.

“I don’t feel good,” Yoongi rasped through his sore and aching throat.

“No kidding,” Seokjin chuckled, popping the thermometer into Yoongi’s mouth. They sat in silence until it beeped and Seokjin took it out. He frowned at the number. No wonder Yoongi seemed so delirious. He helped Yoongi to sit up and handed him the tea and medicine. The younger took it wordlessly, sighing as the warm liquid eased down his throat. He let out a few hoarse coughs before plopping back against the pillows and letting out a low moan, followed by a set of sneezes into the crook of his elbow.

“hH! hH’ESHHh!! hH’RSHh!! hH’ESHH’hiuhh!!”

Seokjin winced, internally praising himself for remembering to put on a mask before coming into the room.

“What else can I get you? Water? Do you have a headache? I can get you pain relievers?” Seokjin asked, handing Yoongi a tissue from the box on the bedside table.

“I’m okay. Thank you hyung.” Yoongi paused and seemed to think for a moment. “Is Taehyungie here?” He looked up at Seokjin with sad, fever-muddled eyes. Seokjin’s heart broke. He knew how much Yoongi loved to have Taehyung to keep him company while sick.

Before Seokjin even had a chance to respond, Taehyung peeked his head around from behind the open bedroom door where he had, no doubt, been listening in.

“Yoongi-hyung, I’m here. Please let me in, Seokjinnie-hyung,” he pleaded, looking worriedly at Yoongi. Seokjin sighed. He was easily persuaded. Unlike Namjoon, Seokjin wasn’t a leader of a world famous band. He was an eldest brother. The responsible hyung in him told him the keep Taehyung out, but the soft and caring hyung argued to let him in. He looked down at Yoongi, whose face dampened with disappointment. It only broke Seokjin further.

“Aish, Yoongi-ah. You’re not making this very easy for me,” he chuckled. He gave a sigh, followed by a long pause. “Fine. Come in, Taehyungie.”

Taehyung’s pout widened into his famous boxy smile as Yoongi met him with his signature gummy smile. Seokjin couldn’t help but laugh.

“You two are ridiculous. Namjoon is going to have my ass for this.”

In his fever delirium, Yoongi murmured, “That’s why you’re the best hyung.”

“I’m your only hyung,” Seokjin laughed, picking up the empty tea cup and swiftly leaving the room so Taehyung and Yoongi wouldn’t see his ears blush bright red at the complement.

“Come sit, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi grinned and patted the bed. Taehyung walked over and, instead, pulled back the covers, climbing into bed and immediately snuggling close to Yoongi’s side. Yoongi hummed a laugh but it rapidly turned into a fit of hoarse coughs that he aimed away from Taehyung. He took a sip of water before resting his head against Taehyung’s chest.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Yoongi admitted once the coughing died down. While oftentimes very independent, Yoongi had been starting to feel lonely from being isolated in his room for so long.

“Me too. I’m definitely going to get in trouble for this, but it’s worth it.”

Yoongi smiled. “Namjoon won’t be mad for long, you know him,” Yoongi referenced their responsible, yet kindhearted leader.

“I know, but I have to record this week. I can’t let the vocal line down. Who knows, maybe I won’t get sick?”

Yoongi shook his head. “You will. You always do,” he gave a tired sigh and closed his eyes.

“I can’t help it,” Taehyung pouted. Yoongi murmured a hum in response. Taehyung’s familiar Daegu accent made him feel at ease and he could feel himself being pulled closer and closer towards sleep as Taehyung rubbed his wide palms and long fingers gently up and down his back.

Taehyung noticed that the warm fever was draining Yoongi’s already limited energy supply. He turned the lamp off and wrapped his arms around Yoongi, throwing a leg over his small waist. Humming “Winter Bear” out of habit, Taehyung’s deep and calming voice put Yoongi to sleep before Taehyung had even had a chance to whisper “Good night, hyung.”

~~~

Namjoon happily walked into the dorm carrying a bag full of Taehyung’s favorite treats and cough drops for Yoongi in his hand. He had felt a bit guilty about being stern with Taehyung earlier. He knew that Taehyung understood his orders, but couldn’t help feeling bad at seeing him with such a sad demeanor all day. He hoped the snacks would cheer him up—he knew how much Taehyung loved his strawberry yogurt!

Upon walking into the kitchen, Namjoon found Seokjin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin happily eating dinner together.

“Hey!” Namjoon greeted with a smile. “Save me some food please. I’m just going to go bring these to Tae real quick. Is he in his room?”

The four members seated at the table glanced anxiously at each other, each avoiding eye contact with their leader. Seokjin took a suspiciously long sip of water.

“Really, Jin?” Namjoon sighed in realization.

Seokjin just blushed.

Namjoon made his way to Yoongi’s room and quietly pushed the door open. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight he saw.

Yoongi was curled into a ball with his head laid on Taehyung’s chest. His nose was bright red and his cheeks were flushed a bright pink. He sniffled softly and curled closer into Taehyung, who had his face smushed into the pillow with his arms around Yoongi’s small frame. Namjoon had to admit, it was quite hard to be mad at such a sight. While the leader in him knew the following week would need to be adjusted if Taehyung got sick, he felt it was worth it to see that Yoongi, who had seemed in deep misery and discomfort each time Namjoon had walked into the room that week, slept peacefully with a hint of a soft and happy grin etched into his face.

[baepsaesbae]

Domestic Bliss: Min Yoongi

Pairing— Min Yoongi x reader  

Genre— Fluff, domestic au

Warnings— mentions of blood (it’s period blood)

Word Count— 954

Summary— Yoongi’s tough guy façade always melts away when he’s with you. This is especially true whenever you’re ill as Yoongi tenderly takes care of you.

A/N—  Hello! May I offer you some soft domestic Yoongi in these trying times? Hope you enjoy! 

Yoongi is very much the embodiment of ‘looks like he can kill you but is an actual cinnamon roll’.

Despite his hardworking nature, he’d drop everything in a heartbeat if you were in trouble.

For example, one day you both went out for a museum date and ice cream. The date was delightful and nothing was out of the ordinary. However, you came down with a sudden fever as soon as you both returned home.

Your fever worsened drastically, creeping its way up to 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). Yoongi was distraught.

Despite wrapping you up in multiple blankets, you couldn’t stop shivering. Yoongi checked up on you as you retreated under the covers only to see steam rise as soon as he uncovered you.

Yoongi gave you medicine and made sure you were hydrating yourself; he refused to leave your side. He managed to curb your fever and watched over you until you dozed off.

That night you had planned to cook soup together, but the idea was thrown out the window for obvious reasons. After making sure your fever was under control, Yoongi scurried off to the kitchen. 

Yoongi woke you up after he finished making the soup with a bowl in hand. He sat you up in bed and attempted to spoon feed you.

“I’m not hungry,” You denied.

“You need to eat. How will your body defend itself? On an empty stomach? I think not,��� Yoongi replied, waving a spoonful of food in front of you, “C’mon, say ahhhh.”

“Ahhhhh,” You caved in. How could you refuse such a sweet gesture?

He slowly spoon fed you the rest of the bowl. Tucking you back into a comfortable position, he played with your hair until you fell back asleep.

You woke up completely fine the next morning, minus a small lingering headache. Yoongi was ecstatic with your speedy recovery but was extra gentle with you for the remainder of the day.

That was just one of the many examples of Yoongi’s soft side that he reserves just for you.

Yoongi’s kindhearted nature truly shone after a particularly horrifying incident.

You were spending the night at Yoongi’s place while you were on your period. An abrupt warm gushing feeling jolted you awake and immediately that made your heart sink. You were so startled that you actually fell out of the bed in an attempt to prevent bleeding on Yoongi’s bed.

Your attempt to dodge disaster was futile and actually made it worse. Along with the huge puddle of blood in the middle of the bed, a smeared streak of red traced your every move as you toppled off the side. 

“Mmm...” Yoongi groggily groaned at the commotion.

“Don’t get up! I-I’ll clean everything up! I’m so sorry!” You said in a panic before running into the bathroom.

‘This is so embarrassing, how could I ever face him again?’ you thought. Tears streamed down your face as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom.

You returned to the bed to assess the mess. It looked like a brutal murder had just occurred with the way blood was splattered across the bed and the floor (from where you landed hard on your ass earlier).

Yoongi was now sitting upright with a shocked look on his face as he too surveyed the crime scene.

“Baby are you okay?!” He asked when he saw your tear stained face.

“I’m fine. God, I’m so sorry Yoongi. I need to wash these sheets ASAP,” You tugged off the sheets from the bed.

“Do you need help?” He got off the bed to help you.

“No, this is my fault. You go back to sleep,” You sniffled as you dragged the sheets into the bathroom.

Yoongi tried to follow you in, but you locked the door.

“I can hear you crying. It’s okay, let me help you,” he pleaded on the other side of the door.

“No, that’s just the tub running,” You lied as you frantically scrubbed off as much blood as you could.

“Ok yes, I hear the tub running. But I also hear you crying. It’s truly okay sweetheart, I’m not mad,” he tried to calm you down.

You finally unlocked the door with the sheets in your arms.

“We need to put these in the washer now,” You said quietly as you cradled the sheets.

You both sat on his bed in silence as the sheets were being washed.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi broke the silence.

“Physically? Yeah. Emotionally? No, I’m so embarrassed,” You hid your face from Yoongi.

“Hey c’mere,” Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace, “It’s really okay, ___. I promise. Accidents happen. I still love you silly,” he kissed your forehead.

“You don’t think I’m gross?” your question was muffled since your face was still smushed into Yoongi’s chest.

“Of course not,” he laughed, “Either you get your period or we have a child. I’d rather not have a kid right now, and I know you don’t want one either.”

“Excellent point,” you started to cheer up,

“I’ve never bled so badly onto a bed like that before. I’m so sorry,” you apologized again

“This’ll be a funny story to tell someday,” Yoongi rubbed your back.

“Who are we gonna tell? What are we gonna say? ‘Haha funny story, one day ___ accidentally bled all over my bed so much that I thought she died.’” You mocked.

“You left out the part where you fell off the bed,” Yoongi smiled.

“Shut up, my butt still hurts,” you pouted.

“Okay you big baby, let’s go eat something. I don’t think I can go back to sleep even if I wanted to,” Yoongi took you by the hand and kissed your forehead.

Published March 8, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[xmyshya]

Congratulations p.2

summary: His assumptions hurt you both. Is there still a chance for you? genre: angst, fluff (happy ending) warnings: car accident, poor writing betas: @miki-snake​ special thanks: Miki for giving me ideas on how to continue. This wouldn’t be finished without you! a/n: Part 2 to my first ever fic. Click here for part 1. wc: 2.4k

It was driving him insane. She was driving him insane. YOU were driving him insane. But it wasn’t your fault, no. He put himself into it, and he knew it. That’s what made it even more unbearable. But he already made a promise, he couldn’t back down. So now he was sitting during his lunch break with a girl he exchanged you for. Just because he didn’t want to assume things, but also because he DID assume things.

For the first time in his life, his own observational skills failed him. This is exactly why he didn’t trust his little voice telling him you were not okay. He hoped that glint disappearing from your eyes was just his imagination, because you were still smiling so beautifully. That your voice wasn’t cracking every time you spoke, as if you needed a second to adjust and calm yourself. How could he make things right again, how could he…

“Are you listening to me?” Ah, right, he wasn’t alone. “You haven’t even touched your food, want me to feed you? Open wide and say aaaah.”

“Sorry, I’m just not hungry.” He answered after staring blankly at her.

“Hmm? Okay, so like I said....”

He rubbed the top of his nose. Her neverending blabbering almost melted with the background noise. It’s not like he hated her, didn’t even dislike. She was just a part of the crowd, one of many that never understood his jokes, never showed interest in his passions (and also didn’t have any he could get interested in), always looking for acknowledgement of everyone around. So unlike you. You, you, YOU.

-----------------------------

You spent most of the lunch breaks outside lately. Somehow the sight of that girl sitting at the same table as Kuroo, looking at him with her glowy eyes and glued smile was unbearable. Ever since that evening being in the same room as them felt suffocating. You didn’t know why. Actually, you did but still tried to push it in the darkest part of your mind. You can’t think that way, not anymore.

You sighed and packed your half-eaten lunch, making your way towards the classroom. Seeing her figure in the hall already caused your body to relax a little. You couldn’t help but think that she was everything you were not. Tiny, cute, with shiny hair, dark eyes, always wearing some kind of make-up, popular. FEMININE. A perfect girl for Kuroo, as you tried to tell yourself for the past few weeks.

-----------------------------

This longing was unfamiliar, but he had a feeling it would be a frequent guest in his chest. He hasn’t noticed how he was staring at the door until you appeared in it. When your eyes met and you smiled at him… he could swear his heart clenched. This was too much, more than he could handle. And judging by your sparkless eyes, you weren’t feeling any better.

-----------------------------

You didn’t expect Kuroo to look in your direction. What you expected even less was that you looked at him. At his eyes, to be exact. His beautiful eyes that remained golden, even though the whole world around you was reduced to monochrome. This realisation made you smile uncontrollably, despite having another creep in… that they weren’t supposed to be looking at you.

-----------------------------

By the time he packed his stuff and looked at your desk, you were already gone. Instead, another female was standing beside him, happily chirping about going home together.

“Sorry, I can’t do this.” He found himself mumbling, not entirely aware he did out loud.

“What did you just say?”

She didn’t seem sad or hurt, no. She seemed annoyed. Mad. As if her little plan was just ruined.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend anymore. Sorry.” He repeated, this time louder, more firmly.

He watched her storm out of the classroom until Yaku patted him on his shoulder.

“Congrats on growing some balls, Rooster”.

-----------------------------

You kind of felt proud at how you mastered sneaking out of the classroom lately. If you did that quietly enough, no one would notice, and no one would accompany you. It was only you and a colourless city, bathed in a colourless sunshine, filled with muffled sounds.

That’s why you didn’t even notice reaching an intersection until you were on it. Or more precisely, until you heard someone shouting your name. You turned to check who this voice belonged to, but stopped halfway locking your eyes with a car, muscles tensing as if preparing for the impact.

-----------------------------

Kuroo ran out of the school premises and saw you from a distance. You were far, but with his long legs and athletic ability, it shouldn’t be too hard to catch up with you. He was getting considerably closer, and felt relieved when lights signaled stopping… BUT YOU DIDN’T.

He didn’t remember ever running that fast, in his whole life, but it was still not enough, there was no way he would reach you in time. Just like there was no chance of the vehicle halting, despite brakes pushed to the floor. If only he left earlier, if only he ran faster, if only he… he could have saved you.

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The only thing you saw after opening your eyes was his face. His ebony black hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes darkened to caramel shade and filled with tears. His sleeve trying to absorb some of it as he rubbed it against his nose. You wanted to wipe them away with your hand, but you couldn’t move it. You could only stare.

Next time you opened your eyes he was gone. You must have made a sound, because right after opening your mouth Kuroo reappeared in your sight. He was saying something to you, but you couldn’t hear. The ringing in your ears was successfully blocking everything else. You saw him reaching his hand out and brushing hair out of your face, and then it all turned black.

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Everything hurts. There’s a steady beeping noise somewhere near your head. Or at least you think it’s near your head. You’re trying to open your eyes, but the sharp light burns into your irises. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth, and the first try to say something ends in a coughing fit.

Someone squeezes your hand, but you’re too blinded by the lights to see who it is. A moment later a straw is gently pushed in between your lips, and you suck on it. Water never tasted that good. You only manage to whisper a weak “thank you” before falling back to sleep.

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Suspended between dreams and reality, you hear voices. Voices that can’t be louder than whispers, and they’re not aimed at you, but sound as if they’re calling you nonetheless. This time there’s no sharp light threatening to burn your eyeballs, and instead, you’re greeted with a dimmed sunlight. Must be an evening or at least late afternoon then. You turn your head in the other direction, and whispers suddenly stop. Owners of the voices look at you timidly and then at each other with anger.

“You woke her up, you moron!” One of them whisper-shouted.

“Me?! Are you fucking kidding me?! I wasn’t the only one blabbing!” Hissed the other. He was also the first one to approach you and take your hand into his. “H-how are you… feeling?”

“Uhh… dizzy? Confused… and tired.” You mumbled, painkillers still dulling you a little.

“Why… why’s he here?” You whisper to your brother sitting right next to you, pointing at Kuroo with just your eyes.

“Oh, don’t think about it now, you need to rest. But just know that he was here every day, and he was the one who saved you, pretty much.” His hand now stroking your hair. “You can relax now, it’s all gonna be okay.”

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It feels good to be back in your room, and to have Kuroo beside you. Even if all he did was tutor you about the things you missed. Luckily most of the damage was caused by shock, and not actual impact, so you were released quickly. Still, you were advised to stay home for some more time, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

And if that was the reason why you were currently alone in your room with your neighbour… no reason to complain. You still haven’t asked him about what happened then, you couldn’t find the courage to. Not when he has so much worry in his eyes, and not when he is getting uneasy every time you give as much as a grimace.

“You know, you don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.” He freezes. There’s a shadow creeping on his face. “I won’t shatter, I promise”.

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

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Your brother was hesitant about your request to go back to school. Most of the accident consequences were gone now, and Kuroo also managed to catch up with his tutoring. There was absolutely no reason not to. He glances at you the whole way from the gate of your house, you pretend you don’t notice. It goes well for most of the day, you’re able to focus, only suffering from a mild headache sometime before the last period. Until you hear THAT, at least.

“It’s all your fault, you bitch!”

You look up and squint. Oh, it’s her. Right when you managed to forget she existed.

“Could you please leave me alone?”

Headache now worsening due to a slight rise of stress in your system.

“Everything was perfectly fine! Until you jumped in front of that car, and snapped him from me!”

You want to ask her about it, but she’s already gone. Maybe you should have listened to your brother. You also don’t see her interact with Kuroo ever again, except for glowering, but you don’t mention it.

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He wanted to talk to you. He really did. But every time he was about to call your name, it got stuck in his throat. After all he had put you through, was he worthy of saying it? Of being close to you? It was all his fault. If only he had paid more attention, he would have known you would reject Bokuto.

If he had been more courageous, he wouldn’t have distanced himself after the festival. If he had run faster, he would have caught you in time. No, he wasn’t worthy. He promised himself he would watch over you from the sidelines, making sure you were always safe, but never putting you at risk of hurting you again.

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You tried to reach out to him. You really did. But every time you tried to approach him, he walked away to talk to one of the friends he spotted. Every time you looked at him, he averted his eyes from you. He came up with last minute excuses, when Bokuto asked both of you to hang out. He did respond to your texts, but his replies were short, emotionless, forced.

So, after some time, you stopped trying. Only sending him a weak, polite smile, as you passed him in the halls, in the streets, on the stairs of your house when he visited your brother. Each one of those smiles feeling like a knife pushed deeper and deeper into your heart.

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He was relieved, grateful almost, when you stopped chasing after him. Each time he heard your voice, felt your presence, heard someone mention you… was piercing his heart like a million needles. Each text from you brought tears to his eyes, and darkness to his chest. So when it all stopped, he hoped he would find some peace. Yet somehow, each one of your dutiful smiles pained him even more.

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Days were much brighter and warmer. Not really surprising, it was the end of May after all. You were being pulled by your brother through the streets of the very lively city, towards the place where the crowd concentrated. He had insisted you wore a yukata, as a way to bid farewell to your teenage years, and welcome supposedly adult university life. He was telling you to hurry, that you’d be late, but these geta shoes definitely weren’t comfortable. Luckily, it wasn’t very far from your home.

You noticed Bokuto from afar, his huge stature towering over the crowd and salt-and-pepper-like hair making it hard not to. As you approached him, he pulled you in a tight hug, his whisper “glad you made it” drowned out by the noise. You glanced over his shoulder, noticing the boy he brought with him. Judging by his expression he was forced to come too and had no idea you’d be here.

“Ah! Taiyaki!” You exclaimed as your face lit up.

It was one of your favourite festival foods. Kuroo tried to grab you before you ran, but he was too late. Again. And again his mind was invaded with a whirlwind of thoughts. You could be swept away by the crowd. You could hurt your feet. You could faint. You could be approached by some suspicious people. Or you could be back safely, a wide smile adorning your features, as you bit into the fish’ head.

Late in the evening, your feet started to remind you how much you had walked in the past few hours. Trying to find a spot to sit and rest, you didn’t even notice that you separated from the group. Not until you turned around to say something to your brother, but you only saw Kuroo settling next to you.

“Where’s everybody?”

“Huh? Right behind…” His eyes opened wide with shock.

There was nobody behind him. It was just you and him, for the first time in a long while. You used to feel comfortable around him, comfortable enough to just sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder. But now it was deafening, making your mind spiraling, lungs short of breath. You desperately needed to say something, anything… and then the first round of fireworks shot.

“Did you know that fireworks are red thanks to strontium salts?”

His heart skipped a beat when he looked at you. At your relaxed face, astonished eyes, gentlest of smiles. Of course he knew, but hearing it from you made it magical. Your voice made it magical.

“And they’re green because of barium compounds, blue due to copper and…”

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You were so beautiful when you turned your head to look directly at him, cheek sliding into his palm, colours dancing on your skin. Tetsurou couldn't help himself. Not when his heart was overflowing with so much love he had tried to suppress for so long. So when he leant in and kissed you, none of you knew if the fireworks were shooting in the sky or in your hearts.

“Congratulations!” Bokuto and your brother shouted, as your lips parted.