#come here ill make sure you don’t bump into anything on the way to the bed 😌

[nico-di-genova]

peep game for a second here: if you pay attention to those photos, pato’s frames don’t change but the tint of them do - they’re more than likely transition lenses. transition lenses are by prescription only iirc. That Motherfucker Cannot See

The slut glasses are medically prescribed?!?? They got him driving a car at dangerous speeds and he’s blind?!?!

[jedi-hawkins]

Flowers for the Doctor

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

@moonstrider9904 - Howzer

@eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Kix x f!reader

Chosen Flower: St. John's Wort

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Medical terminology, pandemic, sickness and death, brief suggestive content, friends to lovers

Beta-read by @anxiouspineapple99

The helmet of your hazmat suit hisses as you release the seal. A deep sigh passes your lips as you step out of your suit and hang it on the rack for decontamination. When you open the door to the decontam stalls, the creak echoes around the tiled room. 

'Damn. All this and we can’t even get some WD-40 on the hinges?' You think to yourself before stripping down to your skivvies and stepping under one of the spouts. The doors from the infectious disease ward open again and a friendly face steps in. 

“Kix.” 

He smiles at you as he strips down to his briefs and steps under a spout. “Long day, Doc?”

You can’t even muster a reply as you close your eyes and hit the red button in front of you. For just a single moment, the rest of the hospital fades away with the roar of the sonic waves washing over you, and then it’s over. 

“That good, huh?” Kix notes your response, or lack thereof. 

You shake your head, trying to keep it together. “I’ve had better.” 

Kix holds the door to the locker room open for you as you step through. “At least you don’t have to wear the clone kit all day.” He says, tossing you a pair of clean blacks from the cabinet. “On the battlefield it’s great, but here I bump around like a pinball. I’m lucky if I can make it through the day without breaking anything.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

The corner of your mouth does twitch a little. “I don’t know.” You respond, “I’ve always thought I looked like a hutt in those hazmat suits, and the gloves are so annoying.” 

“Dinner?” Kix simply asks. 

“Please.”

He leads the way to the hospital cantina. You met Kix just a couple weeks ago, but the two of you had become fast friends. He was a clone medic, sent to your planet to help in one of the hundreds of makeshift ‘hospitals’ that had popped up in the wake of a pandemic. This particular hospital was housed in an academic campus, shut down because of the spreading illness. 

Normally, you were the second in command in the biggest hospital in the planet’s capital, but for the past month your days consisted of random converted buildings, biohazard suits, and patients you felt like you couldn’t do anything for. At the end of the day, you were thankful Kix had been stationed at your hospital. 

Though you two were usually preoccupied with your own patients throughout the day, the pair of you could usually be found together on your breaks. It felt like Kix truly saw you and your struggle. Sure, the hospital Medical Director was the top dog, calling the shots, but you were the one in the trenches of the Infectious Disease Ward every day. 

This pandemic was an enigma that you just couldn’t figure out. It should have just been the normal yearly wave of Wet Lung, easily managed by some general antibios, but those didn’t work. Then your Medical Director ordered you to move up to more aggressive drugs, so you did. Before you knew it, your patients were on IV drips of the most aggressive antibio cocktail you could think of. 

And they still weren’t getting better, in fact, they were getting worse. You’d already lost a number of patients to sepsis, blood poisoning, and the other hospitals across the planet were facing the same issues. As far as you knew, any person that had caught this mysterious strain of Wet Lung were either dead or dying and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You nearly bump into Kix when he stops to open the cantina door. 

“Coruscant to Doc, are you okay?” He asks, guiding you through the door with a hand on your lower back. 

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Yeah, Kix. Just a long shift, you know?”

He squeezes your shoulder before grabbing a tray and heading to the serving line. Even though the Republic had brought the war to your Planet a few months ago, you had to admit their support was needed for this pandemic. And nobody knows how to feed the masses quite like the GAR. 

Kix immediately starts eating when you two sit down, he told you about one of his brothers, Fives: 'If you didn’t eat quickly around him, he’d swipe the rest of your rations.'

You just can’t bring yourself to eat, instead you just chase a few peas around your tray. Of course, Kix notices. 

“Jahaal'got.” He says, using your nickname to grab your attention. “Come on. Talk. It wasn’t just a long day.”

You avoid his eyes, the words getting stuck in your throat. You’ve lost patients before, multiple in one day even, so why was today crushing you so badly?

Kix sets down his fork and reaches across the table to gently grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. “How many did you lose today?”

You take a deep breath, “Twelve, eight more deteriorating. I just… I don’t get it, Kix. What are we missing? The drugs aren’t working, they keep going septic before we can catch it, and those that haven’t progressed to sepsis are dying to the Wet Lung.” 

Kix stops your rambling by taking both your hands in his. “You remember what your nickname means, right?” 

You should be able to remember, but your mind has been so overworked, it doesn’t come to you. “I, uh… something about medicine?”

“Jahaal’got.” Kix repeats it. “It’s the mando term meaning 'good for health', because that’s what you are. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s all you can do.” 

You nod, closing your eyes and rolling your head to try to release the tension in your shoulders. 

“You’re off tonight, right?” Kix asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “I picked up the night shift, I have to be here.” 

Kix scoffs at you. “Are you serious? What, you’re just going to sleep on the hospital floor forever?” 

“Not forever.” You protest. “Just until this blows over.” 

“This pandemic or the war?” 

You meet his eyes, and a knowing look passes between you. After meeting him, you had discussed sending in an application to become a civilian medic for the GAR. 

“Well, we have an hour before the night shift starts.” Kix says, standing up and taking your tray. “Why don’t we go for a walk and then try again at this ‘food’ thing before going back to work?”

Your brow furrows at his remark, “But you-”

“Will also be working the night shift, so it seems.” He cuts you off. He shifts both trays into one hand and holds his other out to help you out of your seat. 

Kix leads the way, dropping the trays in the wash basin on the way out of the cantina. Outside, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky with shades of orange, pinks and purples. 

The two of you walk through the academic campus, chatting about nothing in particular. Kix asks you a few questions here and there about the buildings you all pass. Though it’s been a few years, you tell him what you remember about studying here. 

“It’s a shame all the students had to be sent home.” You remark as you step into the university greenhouses. 

Kix nods his agreement. “What is this place?” He asks, looking around. 

“The campus greenhouses, they're shared by a few departments.” You explain. “Biology, horticulture, environmental studies, and engineering to name a few.”

“I’m surprised everything is still alive, don’t plants take some maintenance?”

“Well, the greenhouse forms a pretty self-sustaining environment. I remember the medical students coming in here a couple times.”

Kix tilts his head at you. “What would medical students study in here?”

“Well,” you shrug, “There are quite a few medicinal plants native to this planet. Though they aren’t quite as effective as modern medicine, they can still be used for daily management or as an additional treatment.” 

The two of you weave through the greenhouse aisles for a few more minutes before you notice Kix has lagged behind. When you turn around to find him, you notice he’s hiding something behind his back.

Your eyes narrow. “What do you have there, Kix? It’s not a bug, is it? That was only funny the first time.”

He chuckles, “Haha, no. I promise it’s not. Here, one last thing to brighten your day.” 

You freeze when you notice what he has in his hand. 

Kix notices your expression at the small yellow flowers he’s holding out to you. “What, are they poisonous or something?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head smiling as you take them from him. “It’s just funny, those are St. John’s Worts.” 

“Weird name.” 

“It’s from local mythology.” You explain. “The flowers tend to bloom on the summer solstice, which is dedicated to their namesake.” 

Kix looks from you to the flowers and gently picks a few more sprigs from the nearby planter, tucking them behind your ear. “They’re pretty, like something else I’m looking at.” 

His words make you smile, but you playfully swat at his arm. “Oh stop it. I know I look like hell.” 

“You look better than anyone else would after nearly a month of non-stop work in an infectious disease ward.” He responds.

“Thanks Kix.” You say, hoping that your sincerity projects. Before you know it, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. 

Kix falters, but only for a second. You feel his arms wrap around you, strong and steady, just like him. Just like he has been for you the past few weeks. Maybe it was his clone conditioning, or maybe it was just him, but he seemed so unshakeable and he always knew what to say. 

He doesn’t relax until you do, but his hands remain on your hips, his eyes darting across your face, trying to read your thoughts. One of your hands rests on his chest, the other still on his shoulder. You won’t deny how drawn you are to him. Though you hoped for the end of this mystery illness plaguing your planet, it stung that it’s end meant saying goodbye to Kix. 

Kix is shifting. ‘He’s leaning in, why is he leaning in?’

You move as well, but the moment is shattered when your foreheads bump into each other. 

Kix lets go of you completely and takes a step back, color spreading across his cheeks.

“I uhhh…” He tries to find the words, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Uh, it’s fine.” You stammer. “You’re fi- we’re fine.” A giggle slips past your lips at the awkwardness. 

Kix breaks into some nervous laughter as well before readjusting some of the yellow flowers in your hair. “Tell me about them.” 

You smile at him. “Well, they’re perennials, meaning they come back every year, they don’t need to be replanted. Although the flowers are yellow, they’ll stain your fingers red when you crush them. They’ve been shown to have some antidepressant properties as well as anti-inflammatory benefits, but you need to be careful when combining them with modern drugs.”

You notice Kix’s soft expression as he listens to you.

“It’s been shown that St. John’s Wort has antibio and antiviral properties as we-'' Your heart stops. “Kix.”

“What?” 

“Kix, that’s it,” you repeat. “That’s why we keep losing them. We’ve been treating this Wet Lung with antibios, but those aren’t working because it’s not bacterial.”

Kix’s mouth drops open and he says the words at the same time as you. “It’s viral.” 

You can see the thoughts tumbling in his head. “And because we advanced to use the system-wide drugs, the patient’s are too weak to fight the virus, triggering the sepsis.” He stammers out. “But, wait, that can’t be right. How can it be viral? There’s never been a case of viral Wet lung reported on this planet.” 

Your feet move automatically as you start pacing. “‘There’s always a patient zero. Normal trade is scanned and sanitized.” You stop. “The troopers.”

Kix’s brow furrows. “No, we're vaccinated.”

“Yes, but vaccines aren’t a foolproof plan, with a mutated strain it might present as a mild cold, or not even show symptoms, especially since you all are engineered to have a more robust immune system.” You say, your brain moving a klick a minute. “Where were you all stationed before being deployed here?”

“Most of the 501st was on shore leave on Coruscant.” Kix replies, shaking his head. “The Carnivore and Execute Battalions… They were on Rhodia and transferred directly here for the occupation.” 

His eyes widen and he grabs your wrist without another word. 

“Kix? Kix!” You shout as he drags you through the campus back towards the hospital. “Why is it so important that you were on Rhodia?”

“Rhodia is one of the native planets for viral strains of Wet Lung.” He pants. “The Rhodians are largely immune, but some mutated strains survive. You were right, we had a couple troopers reporting colds when they transferred.” 

The doors to the Infectious Disease Ward bang open and Kix finally lets go of your wrist, giving you a moment to breathe. 

“Like you said, the troopers, we’re engineered to have stronger immune systems and we’re vaccinated.” He continues. “The population here…”

“We never have.” You finish his sentence. “We don’t have any kind of immunity. Combined with your theory that it’s a mutated strain and the antibios we’ve given them, it’s no wonder-”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” 

The two of you turn and see the Medical Director storming down the nearby hallway. 

Kix steps partially in front of you and stands at attention. “I’m sorry sir, but we-”

“I don’t care what you two were doing!” The Director booms. “You bursting in here is no excuse.”

You slowly step out from behind Kix. “Please, sir. We think we’ve figured out this pandemic.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m in charge here.” The Director says, his eyes narrowing.

Instead of bowing away as usual, you stand your ground. “I am just as qualified as you, if not more. I'm the one that's been running this ward while you sit in your office. I graduated from this very campus, top of my class and I��m the second in command at the Capital Hospital. This disease we’re dealing with, it has to be viral.”

Your Medical Director looks you up and down, pausing at the yellow flowers in your hair. “There has never been a case of viral Wet Lung reported on this planet. The antibios always work. We just need to find the right combination of meds.”

“Sir, you need to listen.” You insist. “I know we’ve always treated Wet Lung with antibios, but look,” You wave your arm at the ward behind him. “Every single patient that’s come in is either still sick or has progressed to sepsis. The other hospitals are reporting the same.”

Kix puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “She’s right, sir. Strains of viral Wet Lung are common in other systems. We had a couple battalions transfer here from one of those systems, Rhodia. It’s likely some of our troopers were carriers for a mutated variant and brought it here.”

You pick up where Kix left off. “Even though our population doesn’t have any innate immunity, a fair amount of people probably could have ridden out the virus if we hadn’t given them those antibios.” You bite your lip before continuing. “Those drugs are effective, but in a patient with no bacterial infection, all it would do is compromise their system. They can’t fight the virus, and they progress to sepsis. Only we’re not catching it before it kills them because the Wet Lung is masking the sepsis symptoms.” 

You try to stop the words from spilling over your lips but in a last desperate plea for your officer to understand, it slips out.

"We’re killing them."

Kix’s hand squeezes firmly on your shoulder as you let out a choked sob. Your medical officer looks at you curiously, you’ve always been so level headed and sure footed. 

The Director crosses his arms. "So you’re telling me to take them off the drugs and do nothing. You do know that’s how we treat viruses, right?"

You lock eyes with him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We need to give them supportive treatment; fluids, steroids, pain medication. We can try some antivirals to weaken the Wet Lung strain, but the patients will have to fight it off on their own. All we can do is give them the best chance possible.”

Your director looks you up and down before letting out a little ‘hm.’ He glances behind him to the infectious disease ward and back to you. “I will not take responsibility when this goes wrong. Looks like we’re taking your direction now, Doctor.” 

Under your instruction, all of the patients in the ward are removed off the antibio cocktail. Much to your Medical Director's annoyance, the death rate begins to improve. You sent word to the other hospitals caring for pandemic patients and they saw similar results. It’s a slow process, and Kix stays by your side every step of the way. The day you discharged your first survivor, you cried. You both did, actually.

It takes a few more weeks, some patients are touch and go. There were still a few deaths, and Kix held you as you cried for them. Then came the day that you got the news. Your patient numbers had reduced so much your little makeshift hospital was going to be closed, and you were being sent back to the Capital Hospital with a new position, no less. Your remaining patients would be transferred along with you and the University was going to be reopened. 

And yet, you weren’t quite happy. Sure you’d basically saved your planet’s population from facing extinction, but you couldn’t revel in it knowing that a certain someone was going to be shipped out. 

“The campaign here is over.” Kix had explained. “And with the pandemic contained, there’s no reason for the medics to stay behind.” 

The 501st was being sent to Ryloth. You knew there was a crisis brewing there, and you were proud that you knew some of the brave men going to help there, but it still stung. It stung the same as your eyes did as you stand on the landing platform, waiting for someone to come say goodbye. 

“There you are.” He says, walking up behind you. 

You sniff slightly, trying to keep tears from pricking at your eyes. “Here I am.” 

You hear a bit of laughter and you notice a group of clone troopers in blue armor across the landing platform that seem very interested in the two of you.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” Kix says, moving in front of you to block them from view. “Brothers…” He mumbles. 

“I get it.” You say, searching his face, what for you’re not quite sure. 

Kix reaches for a pouch on his belt. “I- I have something for you.” He says, sheepishly pressing a box into your hands. 

Looking down you realize it’s a jewelry box. Gently you open the lid and gasp at the sight of what lays inside. Strung on a delicate chain is a single golden pendant of a flower. The same flower that Kix had tucked into your hair all those weeks ago. The same flower that led to the salvation of your planet.

“Kix… I don’t know what to say.” You stammer. 

“Don’t say anything,” he says sweetly. “Just turn around for me.” 

He takes the necklace from the box and gently brushes your hair out of the way before clasping the chain around your neck. Turning back around you can only shake your head and smile at him. 

“I have something for you too.” You say. 

Kix looks at you a little puzzled, he hadn’t seen you holding anything. 

“They’re naming the new wing of the hospital after you.” You explain. “It’ll be like you’re always here. No one will forget what you did for us, for me.” 

Kix gingerly cups your cheek with one hand. “It was an honor and a privilege.”

He’s leaning in again.

This time your lips connect and the landing platform melts away. There’s nothing but him. Him and you. 

Of course your heart has to ruin it as it sinks with the returning thought that he’s literally about to leave and never come back. You break the kiss, but he keeps your foreheads pressed together. 

“What is it?” He breathes.

You can’t help but scoff. “You’re leaving and we’re kissing. I doubt the GAR will give you much time for visits.”

“Hey,” Kix says gently holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s like you said, I’ll always be here, jahaal'got. I will admit I should’ve kissed you sooner.” 

“Hey lovebird! It’s time to go!” One of his brothers shouts.

That manages to get a laugh out of the two of you. 

“I think you have to go.” You mutter.

Kix lets you go and takes a step back. “There’s one more thing, but it’s waiting in your office.” 

He turns to leave, but you reach out and grab his bracer. “Kix. Thank you. For everything.”

With a smile, he leans in to peck you on the cheek before turning and jogging over to the shuttle where his brothers are waiting. 

A grin spreads across your face when you see one with shoulder pauldrons wrap his arm around Kix’s neck to give him a noogie, while another with a top knot of hair claps him on the back. 

The sun is setting by the time you get back to your office. The door slides open with a gentle woosh. It’s a nice space, though somewhat empty as you have yet to move most of your stuff over from your old office. On your desk is a vase of small yellow flowers. You find yourself shaking your head again as you walk closer. 

Kix… when will he stop absolutely melting your heart?

When you didn't think he could surprise you any more, you realize the flowers in the vase are ceramic. Tucked in between some of the delicate blooms is a notecard. You instantly recognize Kix’s swooping handwriting.

‘I think I need to make an appointment with the Doc, I seem to have been bitten by the love bug. (augh, that was awful, Jesse told me it would be good) I hope you like these, you deserve real ones, but had a local artist make them for you since I won’t be around to make sure real ones never wilt.  I’ll see you soon, jahaal'got, on my next shore leave.’

Also Happy Birthday @arctrooper69! (today, May 20th)

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Safe (M, cold)

Well, here I am.

It's been a few months since I've written anything in the Elliot's universe, but recently someone asked for a Mark-centric story, and this behemoth is what ensued. Allow me to preface by saying this: Mark is basically my self-insert. This was a very hard story to write. If it sucks, my apologies, hah.

In this, Mark gets sick from Matt and wants to hide it from Elijah. It is significantly more hurt/comfort-slash-sickfic than snzfic, honestly. It starts fairly benign, fluffy, and silly and gets really intense a few pages in. There's a lot of musing, a lot of being inside Mark's head. Idk. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. This is the first story I've written on here that has taken me a full week to get down, and that I've written and scrapped multiple scenes. It is very long. I really hope you enjoy it if you read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, but also understand if it's just too long-winded for people to read. Also, there's a real chance of spelling/grammar errors because I just can't look at this monster of a fic any longer, ha.

Anyway. Onward.

CW: Male snz, illness, coughing, contagion. 6K words (almost exactly)

Safe

“Don’t go near them.”

It’s the first thing that hit his ears as he pushed through the swinging kitchen doors; no ‘hi, Mark,’ no, ‘good morning’, just a barked order with absolutely zero context thrown in. Mark whipped his head in the direction of the stern voice of his boss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered, making his way towards the office, where Elijah was stationed, seated, but not doing any computer work. “Who and what are we avoiding?” he asked as he entered.

“The chefs,” Elijah said, moving his chair to let the younger manager in to sit. Mark placed his backpack on the ground, tossed his coat over top of Greyson’s on the second office chair. Waited for further explanation that did not come.

“Okay…” he said, sitting beside his boss. “And we’re not going near them because…?” Mark hadn’t even seen Greyson or Matt yet this morning. The avoiding was being done for him, so what was Elijah’s deal?

Elijah hummed a low disapproval – of what, Mark couldn’t guess – and turned towards his computer. “You’ll see,” he said, shaking his mouse and pulling up an order guide. “Just don’t breathe your boyfriend’s breath, okay?”

Mark colored at the implication; it had only been a couple of months since Matt and Mark had been outed to the restaurant, and the floor manager still wasn’t used to their relationship being casually dropped into conversation. While Elijah busied himself with admin work, Mark stood – time to figure out what the fuck Elijah was on about.

You would think that finding chefs in a kitchen would be a relatively banal business; they’re chefs. They’re cooking. Hardly a moving target – but you’d be wrong. Somehow, the second a front of house manager starts looking for a chef, they become a ghost. They haven’t existed for a thousand years – are you sure this restaurant even has a chef? Mark couldn’t help but ponder how the fuck this hundred-square-foot kitchen somehow became a labyrinthian nightmare the second he wanted to find his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boss; c’mon, he’d checked the walk-in, the back kitchen, even the dock to see if they were smoking, where the fuck were they?

Maybe Elijah had told the two of them to stay away from Mark and the front of house staff before the floor manager arrived, and they were playing a cat-and-mouse style keep-away game that Mark was unaware of. Or maybe they had gone to the store to pick up chicken or some shit. Either way, Mark was done looking. Elijah said don’t go near them, he thought to himself, heading back towards the front of the kitchen, easy enough.

Of course, it was the moment that Mark decided he was done looking that he quite literally bumped into his boyfriend coming through the kitchen doors.

“Oof,” Matt grunted as they collided. Greyson, not even a step behind him, turned their two-person bump into a three-car-pileup that nearly ended in hot coffee being spilled over all of them.

“Christ, Chef, watch where you’re going,” Matt muttered untangling himself from the middle of the pack.

“Mbe watch where I’mb going?” Greyson asked, wiping his coffee-covered hand on his chef’s pants. “The two of you are practically grinding on each other here and I ndeed to watch where I’mb going?”

Mark clocked it in the chef’s voice immediately – oh. That’s what Elijah meant.

But… he had said both of them… right?

Mark’s head shot up from checking to make sure he didn’t have coffee all over his button-down to look Matt directly in the face – ah. Fuck.

“Hh-! Hh’ITSHZH-ue! HRTSHH-ue!” Matt collapsed to the side to sneeze, seemingly in lieu of responding to Greyson’s dig. “Snf. Fuck off, Chef.” There it was.

“Bless you,” Mark said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Matt just nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Before Mark could respond to the unnecessary apology, Elijah’s voice rang out once again from the office. “Mark, I told you to stay away from them!” The GM stood from his desk chair and strode into the kitchen, physically pushing Mark and Matt away from one another. “Six foot distance,” he said, pointing at both of them. “And you,” he said, addressing his counterpart, “didn’t I tell you to go get some tea and sit the fuck down? We have a big night tonight and I need you conscious, please.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held up his cup. “I was on mby way to sit when the children starting gyrating on each other in the mbiddle of mby kithcen,” he said. “Don’t put this one on mbe.”

Elijah squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “First of all,” he said, moving towards Greyson and plucking the cup from his hand, “that isn’t tea.”

“The tea we buy is gross,” Greyson whined. “And I’mb ti – hh! Hh...hhuh-ETSHZH-ue! Snrf, fuck.” Greyson took a moment to collect himself, to wipe his nose on his sleeve and cough – a wet, concerning sound – before finishing his sentence. “I’mb tired,” he said, snatching the cup back.

“Which is why I told you to go sit down,” Elijah said, pressing his palms together and accentuating each word with his hands. “And please do not get my front of house manager sick. I beg, Greyson.”

“Talk to him,” Greyson said, thumbing towards Matt. “I’mb ndot the one with my tongue in Mark’s mbouth twenty-four-seven.”

Mark’s face flamed once again, but Matt, either too sick to care or beyond the embarrassment that was a public relationship in the work place, just rolled his eyes.

“Jealous, much?” Matt asked under his breath. Greyson shot daggers with a glance at his sous, and Mark decided it was probably time to step in.

“Listen, how about I go grab the two of you some medicine from down the street, you both take a rest, and then by the time the meds have kicked in, everyone should be good for service.” Mark looked to Elijah for his blessing; his boss was obviously mulling it over, considering. “And this way, I’ll be out of the metaphorical splash zone,” he finished, which finally prompted a nod from Elijah.

“Okay,” his boss said. “Good idea, Mark. You two – come with me.”

The GM led the two chefs back into the dining room to lay in the back booth while Mark let out a sigh. He was happy, of course, to be out of the fight, to have seemingly calmed everyone down, and to have put his boss’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that – despite Elijah’s eased mind – it was already too late for keeping himself away from the newest restaurant pestilence.

***

“Elijah is going to kill me, Matt.”

“Oh, please, he is ndo – ITSZCHH-ue! ndot,” Matt said, swiping the bottle of Dayquil from Mark’s hand and chugging it. “You gonna sit?” he asked, sniffling and patting the milk crate beside him and shivering. Mark sighed.

“I’m not gonna sit, because Elijah is going to kill me even more if he sees me sitting right next to you.”

“I’mb gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s ndot possible,” Matt said, dissolving at the end of his sentence into a chesty cough.

“You’re coughing now, too?” Mark asked, worry about Elijah’s anger usurped very suddenly by concern for his boyfriend. Mark placed a hand to Matt’s head. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, not bothering to move Mark’s hand. Mark huffed out a little laugh.

“Don’t apologize for being sick. Please,” he said, moving his hand to cup Matt’s cheek. “Even if Elijah might kill us both.”

Matt smiled, pressed his face harder into Mark’s hand. “You might ndot get sick. You ndever know,” he muttered, eyes closing as Mark held his head up.

“Matt,” Mark laughed, “I mean… I don’t think that’s, uh, possible after last night.” Matt’s eyes blinked open at the mention of it, and a little smile flitted across his lips.

The apartment had been quiet.

“Matt?” Mark called as he stepped inside. “Babe, are you home?”

He strained his ears; the shower was on. Mark had an idea.

He tiptoed across the cold apartment floor, quietly stripping as he went; by the time he got to the bathroom door, he was nude as the day he was born. The bathroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so he pushed inside silently and pulled back the curtain.

A fact about Matt that shocked Mark more than anything was that the man did not get scared. He had yawned through their first haunted house together; he fell asleep during the Terrifier movies, for Christ’s sake. So Mark was unsurprised when, instead of screaming bloody murder the way he would’ve if Matt snuck up on his in the shower, his boyfriend simply turned away from the spray and smiled.

“You’re early,” he murmured, ushering Mark in.

“I came right from the gym,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Matt hummed, pressing himself into Mark’s arms. “That’s nice, baby.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, until Mark tipped Matt’s chin up towards his face. “I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing his lips onto Matt’s neck, “but I also wanted to… do things. With you.”

Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low. “Like what?”

Mark stood back to his full height, and pushed Matt against the shower wall. “Let me show you.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said now, lifting his head. “But, I mbean, are you feeling okay right ndow?”

He was, for the moment. But, Matt had seemed alright last night, and clearly he’d already been on the trajectory towards ill – despite that fact that he had been very good at hiding it. Whatever he and his boss had picked up was certainly quick to come on.

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me,” Mark said, rummaging through the drug store bag to hand Matt, who’d fallen into another paroxysm of coughing, the Robitussin. “I’m more worried about you than anything.”

Matt snapped the top off and chugged this medicine as well, seemingly without any concern about mixing two medications. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I kndow Elijah is worried about getting through the weekend, but it’s ndot like any of us haven’t worked with a cold before.” He shrugged then, handed Mark the medicine, and stood. Mark stood as well, and once again cupped Matt’s hot face – this time with both hands.

“Please just take it a little bit easy tonight, okay?” Mark said. “I know Greyson is sick, too, but don’t try to do too much. We don’t need another moment like a few months ago.”

“And to think I’d just forgotten about that,” Matt said, going on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll be okay.” Mark kissed him back, a little longer than was maybe necessary; long enough that neither of them heard the back door open until it was too late.

“Mark, what the fuck are you doing?”

Oh, fuck.

Elijah.

***

By the end of the night, Greyson and Matt were shadows of their former selves.

“Hh-! Hhhuh… hhNGTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! ETSZCH-ue! Fuuuck mbe,” Greyson muttered as he wrenched into the sleeve of his hoodie – chef coats had been abandoned about an hour into service, when both he and Matt started shivering hard enough to fuck up the plating on more than half the dishes – for the millionth time that night. He attempted to clear his throat, prompting a flurry of congested coughs.

Behind him, Matt was sitting on the cold, industrial kitchen ground, head between his knees. “I’mb gonna pass out, I just kndow I am.”

“Don’t fuckigg pass out,” Greyson growled, pulling his sous to his feet. “You ndeed to get your blood mboving, you gotta stand up. Idiot.”

The two of them, bickering and sneezing in near-unison by the pass, had captivated the attention of both front of house managers, who had turned away from their computer work to watch the mess unfold.

“Hope you like what you see,” Elijah said, finally. “Because that’s gonna be you tomorrow.”

Behind his boss’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. “Boss, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all, trust me, I’m going to be okay.” It was mostly true; he’d sneezed a few more times today than was normal for him, yes. And he was a little tired – no more than usual, surely. The rawness in the back of his throat was easily ignored with huge gulps of water. He was fine.

“Mmm,” Elijah said, swinging his chair around to look the younger man in the eye, “sure. Whatever you say, Mark; just remember, if you look even close to how bad Matt does tonight, you’re off the floor. And I mean off the floor until you return to normal. A cold is one thing; whatever these two have is entirely another. Understood?”

Mark swallowed around his burgeoning sore throat; off the floor. Off the floor didn’t mean relegated to busywork behind the scenes; it meant sent home. Being sent home meant days without a backup manager to help Elijah on the floor, and no one to help on the floor meant Elijah would realize there was a gap in their team. A gap in management. Mark had been the only floor manager in all the years Elliot’s had been open; Elijah had mentioned a few times that maybe they should hire another person, someone to cover if both Mark and Elijah couldn’t come in, but Mark had been vehemently against it. Elijah couldn’t hire another manager, because if he did, he’d see how truly unqualified Mark had been for his position all this time. Once he saw how unqualified he was, he’d be out on his ass. No job, no money… no second family. No place he truly belonged.

Mark’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes towards the floor. “Yes, boss,” he said. “I understand.”

“Good,” Elijah said, nodding. “Now, go collect your boyfriend and take him to bed.”

***

The first time Mark was sick while working at Elliot’s was well over a year into his tenure.

Elijah had regarded Mark with concern, clocking him as unwell the second he sat in the office. “You don’t look well,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mark’s face had flushed, embarrassed; not getting sick for over a year working front of house was honestly a feat of accomplishment in the restaurant industry, but he still felt guilty for coming down with something, despite its inevitability. He shrugged, an attempt at playing it cool.

“I’mb okay, boss,” Mark croaked. “Just a cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Are you sure it’s just a cold? You feel okay to work?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. Did he look that unwell? “I mbean… yeah?” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Elijah said, opening a drawer and pulling out cold medicine, along with a small bag that looked like it could’ve come from his mother’s medicine cabinet. “A cold, we can work with.”

The GM explained to him, then, that there were marked differences between the front of house cold, and the back of house cold. “You’ve seen Greyson sick at work a dozen times,” Elijah said, passing Mark a cup full of pills and a water bottle. “Right?”

“Sure,” Mark said, swallowing the pills around a painfully sore throat. “It’s ndot like he’s hiding it.”

“Right. Right,” Elijah said, popping open a stick that looked like – was that concealer? “The chefs, the cooks – they don’t have to hide anything. Us, though? No one wants to be served soup by someone with a stuffy nose. We all get the same shit, but only they’re allowed to look like shit.” He dabbed the concealer under Mark’s eyes, used an expert finger to blend it into his skin. “That’s the industry for you.”

“Are you… putting makeup on mbe?” Mark asked, laughing a bit.

“Sure am,” Elijah said. “A little concealer goes a long way in this profession, Mark. Concealer, and enough meds to tranquilize an elephant.” His boss closed the little concealer pen, put the medicine and makeup away. “I want you on the floor, but I want you to look… alive.” Elijah shut the drawer, shrugged. “Let me know if you start feeling really shitty. Otherwise? Come to the back to blow your nose, and feel free to help yourself to whatever you want in here.”

Mark blinked, a little confused, but grateful for the advice. Elijah seemed… almost fatherly, like this, and he could feel embarrassing tears welling in his eyes at this, the smallest gesture of being cared for. Mark looked down, cleared his throat. “Uh… okay, boss. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said, patting Mark’s knee. “We’ve gotta take care of each other in this hell hole of an industry, y’know?”

Mark couldn’t look up. The thought of his boss seeing him cry was entirely too much for him to handle. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

***

The hardest part of hiding an illness, Mark knew from experience, was speaking.

Putting on makeup and looking like a human instead of a corpse? Easy. He’d learned how to apply concealer so it didn’t look like he was in drag – just enough that in the dim lighting of the restaurant you couldn’t tell if those were dark circles or shadows. He’d learned if you added a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, no one noticed that your nose was also red, and he’d figured out the hard way that there was never a world in which he needed eyeliner, even if it made his eyes look less bloodshot.

He always dressed immaculately when he wasn’t feeling well; extra-crisp button down, sport coat, his expensive Ray Ban glasses, not the cheapos from Zenni he usually donned. Mark shined his shoes the second he felt a tickle in his throat, broke out the cuff links if he suddenly sneezed more than thrice in a row. He’d been trained well by Elijah to hide the visual cues of any oncoming malady.

Hiding how he really felt came even more naturally; he’d been practicing that since childhood. Complaining wasn’t in his nature, or had maybe been stamped out entirely at some point – either way, Mark could be actively passing out, unable to breathe, coughing so hard he couldn’t form a sentence, and he wouldn’t even mention it. Of course, he’d been sent home from work for being ill before, but never once had he chosen to go. Even the thought of saying ‘I’m sick’ made him dizzy with unease. You need to work through that in therapy, Matt had said to him multiple times, and he knew it was true, but it was also helpful. In this industry, admitting defeat was akin to admitting you sucked at your job.

The voice, though? That was always what gave him away. No matter how much medicine he took, he could always hear the rasp that overtook his voice immediately. His m’s and n’s turned to rounded shadows of their former selves even if he blew his nose every five minutes. His timbre lowered considerably, to the point that when Matt first saw him sick he asked how it felt to be able to do a perfect Johnny Cash, but only when he felt like shit. It was a problem, but Mark was a pretty quiet guy in general. If he was quieter than usual, usually no one was the wiser.

That’s what he hoped – that his boss would be none the wiser – as he dressed in his perfectly-tailored suit that morning, stifling sneeze after painful sneeze into handfuls of tissue all the while. Just don’t talk, he thought as he dotted Maybeline under his eyes. No one has to know.

Of course, not talking was a bit… difficult when his boss was around. “Good morning,” Elijah called to Mark as he buzzed through the kitchen, trying to make his way into the dining room without having to make small talk. Dammit. Mark stopped, begrudgingly, and nodded at his boss, who raised both eyebrows at the younger manager’s outfit choice. “Is there an event tonight I’ve forgotten?”

Mark shook his head, straightened his tie. “Just felt like dressing up,” he said, tactfully avoiding words with too many nasal letters. “How’re you, boss?”

“I’m well,” Elijah said, pointedly. He patted the empty chair next to him, prompting Mark to sit; don’t let him get a good look at you, a voice in Mark’s head chastised. Don’t get taken off the floor. “Greyson’s not coming in till three, if you want to do your preshift report in here today.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. “I like the dining roomb.” Fuck.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, but didn’t mention Mark’s voice. “How’s Matt feeling?” he asked, another pointed question.

“He’s okay – a little better. Said he’d be here at four.” Mark patted himself on the back for maneuvering around any pesky m’s or n’s that time. Elijah nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it,” Elijah said, standing. The younger manager was several inches taller than his boss, but Elijah was still able to look him fairly closely in the eye. Once again, one word rattled around in Mark’s head: fuck. “How are you feeling?”

Mark allowed a smile to form on his rapidly-chapping lips. “Good, boss. Ready to work,” he said simply. God, he needed to clear his throat. And more than that, he really, really needed to blow his nose.

Elijah nodded. “Alright,” he said, apparently placated. “Go ahead, then.”

“Thanks, boss,” Mark said, stepping out of the office doorway and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors before Elijah could say anything else. He’d made it through the first test, somehow. Just in time, too, he thought, making a beeline towards the bathroom. Because I really fucking need to -

“NTSHH!” Mark stifled a near-silent sneeze into his wrist as he yanked open the guest bathroom door. Finally, locked in the bathroom alone, he allowed himself to be as disgusting, as sick as he really was.

“Hhuh -! Hh- ETZSCH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Huh… hh’RRSHH-ue!” Mark collapsed in on himself, scrambling to collect a handful of tissues so he wouldn’t ruin the sleeve of his suit. He blew his nose as thoroughly as he could – not that it made any difference, he was still stuffed up to the gills. A pathetic little cough escaped his lungs, prompting another tickle in his sinuses. “HUHTTSCHH-ue!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chastised himself, blowing his nose again. He’s going to fucking hear you.

He waited a moment or two to see if Elijah would push through the door – he didn’t – before sitting fully clothed on the toilet and pulling out his phone.

11:56AM

Mark

what is this, the fucking plague?

Almost immediately, Matt texted back.

11:57AM Matt

o shit, did we get you already? baby im so sorry. u shouldve told me u weren’t feeling good last night u couldve stayed over

11:57AM Mark

not your fault. and I’m ok, just trying to avoid Elijah, he’s gonna be so pissed.

11:59AM

Matt

omfg he’ll get over it. its not like someone in that restaurant isnt sick every other week

Mark sighed, his lungs crackling at the effort. Matt was right; someone was almost always sick at Elliot’s, that was the way of things in this industry. They all shared drinks, they worked in close quarters, it was bound to happen. This was less about the illness itself – of course he’d been sick at work before, who hadn’t? - and more about the look he knew he’d see on Elijah’s face when he’d finally have to crack. He’d gone directly against his boss’s orders, had put his job and the restaurant second to his baser desires. That’s no way to get ahead in this world, his dad’s voice bellowed from the base of his brain. Mark shuddered; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Elijah’s look of pure disappointment. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mark stood and washed his hands. He took an inventory of his face in the mirror – eye bags poorly covered by drugstore makeup, his nose raw and red, his mouth slightly open to allow him to breathe – and realized how truly awful he looked. Was there even a chance that Elijah didn’t know he was sick? Doubtful, his dad’s voice muttered.

You have to just try, another voice in his head pleaded. Just push through, you know how to push through. You’ve done it a million times before. He doesn’t have to know.

That voice, Mark knew, was delusional – a child’s gnawing plea to be accepted, to not get in trouble, to not be thought of as a burden – but he knew that sometimes you had to be delusional, had to listen to the saddest, smallest part of yourself to get through a day. He pulled his phone back out before leaving the bathroom.

12:04PM

Mark

just please don’t say anything to Elijah when you get here, ok? I’m fine, I promise. its honestly probably just in my head, it’s probably nothing so just don’t say anything. see u soon.

Pathetic, his dad’s voice spat, and Mark knew the voice was right. But that was nothing new, nothing to dwell on; he’d always been pathetic. Mark switched off his phone then, not wanting to be comforted by his boyfriend, and stepped onto the floor.

***

“Mark,” Matt said, reaching up to touch the front of house manager’s forehead, “you really need to go.”

Mark pulled away before Matt could touch him, though not by choice. “HRRSHH-uhh! Hh-! HhNTZSHH-ue! Snrrf. Leave mbe alone.”

Matt’s hand recoiled at the ice in his boyfriend’s voice, obviously hurt. Normally, Mark would’ve nearly fallen to his knees at the thought of hurting Matt’s feelings, but today, with the cold from hell progressing quicker than he ever could’ve anticipated, he couldn’t even find it in himself to apologize. Obviously he needed to go, but that would mean admitting to illness; it would mean begin taken off the floor until god-knows-when. It would mean Elijah replacing him.

No. He wasn’t about to go.

“Honey,” Matt said carefully, touching Mark’s hand across the expo board, “I’mb sure Elijah would understand. It’s a slow ndight, he already sent Greyson back home. What are you trying to prove?”

Of course, Matt was right; last night’s crazy shift was in stark contrast to this evening’s steady pace. There were hardly twenty more covers for the evening, and yes, even Greyson had admitted defeat and slunk out right at six p.m., in a fevered haze. The only reason Matt was still here was because his fever had broken this morning and, despite the lingering cough and stuffy nose, he was clearly feeling better. Good enough, even, to have gone behind Mark’s back and talked to Elijah.

“Matt told me,” Elijah had cornered him right before preshift started, in the back server station while everyone else ate family meal. Mark felt his stomach sink. Fucking Matt, he thought, clearing his throat to address his boss in the most normal voice he could muster.

“Told you what?” he asked, straightening his tie. Elijah gave the younger manager a knowing look.

“You don’t look like you feel well, Mark,” he said, obviously trying a different tactic. This time, Mark’s stomach knotted; he felt, for a moment, like a little kid, wanting to fall to the ground in front of his mommy and just allow himself to be comforted. He thought for a fleeting moment of how good it would feel to just admit it; I’m sick, he would say, if he were a normal fucking person, I want to go to bed.

Instead, Mark shook his head. “I don’t kndow what Matt told you, but he doesn’t kndow what he talking about,” he managed, his voice cutting out only once. “I’mb fine.”

Elijah sighed. “Mark, listen, I know I was an asshole yesterday -”

“Boss,” Mark cut Elijah off. “Please. I’mb okay. Just please, let mbe work.”

He’d walked away then, hadn’t let Elijah say whatever it was he wanted to say, and had avoided Matt as well as he could throughout service. Now, mid-shift, when all the cooks and servers were side-eyeing them from he expo board, was not the time to hash this out.

“I’mb ndot trying to prove anything, Matt,” Mark said now, grabbing two plates from the window. “Just stay out of mby business. What table?”

Matt bit his cheek, peaked at the chit. “Please don’t be mbad,” he said, voice quiet. Mark prickled; he couldn’t help it. He was mad. He’d asked one stupid thing of Matt, and now here he was, career in trouble, embarrassed in front of both of their staffs, and once again gearing up for another painful -

“HTTSHH-ue! God, fugck,” Mark swore, ducking expertly away from the plates he was holding. He sucked in through his nose hard enough to make himself dizzy, and looked back at Matt. “What table, Chef?” he asked, pointedly. Matt winced.

“Thirty-three,” he said finally. Mark nodded.

“Great. Thangks.” He turned on his heels and pushed out the kitchen doors.

***

Before it happened, Mark found himself thinking exactly what his boyfriend was moaning the night previous: I’m gonna pass out, I know I am.

The only difference was, Mark was correct.

He’d been feeling shittier and shittier as the night went on. It began with spells of dizziness that came anytime he moved his head too fast, then moved on to an ache in his chest every time he coughed. A cold is one thing, he remembered Elijah saying the night previous. Whatever they have is entirely something else.

Elijah the prophet.

He kept pushing through. Plate after plate came out of the kitchen on his aching arms; he shook drinks while coughing into his shoulder, and sniffled his way through seating guests. Mark could feel Elijah’s eyes on him, though his boss refused to speak to him throughout the shift. I’ll show him, his fever-addled mind kept saying. I can do this. I’m fine.

It wasn’t until the last table had sat that his body well and truly told him he’d had enough. Mark was seeing stars when he grabbed a filet and swordfish, and once again he ignored it. He ignored the room swimming before him as he pushed out of the kitchen. He ignored the sway in his step.

“Shit, Mark!” was the last thing he heard, standing in the middle of the dining room with hot plates in each of his hands. There was no way to tell who said it – Elijah? Matt? – but it didn’t really matter, because before he could respond, his vision became a tiny pinkprick, his knees buckled, and the lights went out.

***

When the world came back into focus, he had somehow teleported into his bed.

At first, Mark tried desperately to get up; he’d fallen in the middle of the restaurant, that he unfortunately remembered immediately. There had been people around, guests watching, and he immediately felt his face flame with embarrassment. Oh, Elijah is going to kill me.

That was when he realized he was no longer in the restaurant. Mark placed a hand over an aching eye; was it all a dream? He looked down – no, it couldn’t be. He was still in his tailored suit, the tie and ciff links missing, but otherwise dressed to the nines.

“Whoa there, kid,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Go ahead and lie back down.”

Mark blearily glanced towards the voice. There, just outside his bedroom, stood Elijah, a steaming cup in one hand and a thermometer in the other. Fuck.

“Shit, Elijah, I’mb so sorry I ca – HTSHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe,” Mark, any facade of health finally washed away, used his expensive suit jacket to wipe his nose. Elijah glided across the small room and sat on the foot of the bed, handing the younger man the cup. Tea.

“Save your breath,” Elijah said. “You already apologized about a hundred times at the restaurant.”

He had? Mark gave Elijah a confused look, and sat back on the pillows behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d come to at the restaurant at all.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah said, nodding. “To me. To Matt. To the guests. To the EMTs. I would think you’d be apologized out.”

EMTs? Mark cringed; as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he figured it was probably better that he didn’t remember. Small mercies, he thought.

“Lij,” Mark croaked, taking a sip of the tea, “I really amb… sorry. I mbean, I can’t imagine how mbuch I embarrassed you. Thangk you for bringing mbe home… I understand if you can’t…let mbe, uh. Work there. Anymore.”

Mark, destroyed by fever, and aches, and what was probably some sort of bronchitis-sinus-infection super-fucking-hybrid, couldn’t help but let the angry, ashamed tears fall as he said it. Matt wasn’t here, which most likely meant he was out both a boyfriend and a job. You fucking idiot. You stupid, fucking idiot, how dumb could you -

Elijah broke through the screaming in his head – he took Mark’s arms in his hands, placed his cup on the side table, and pulled him in for a hug. “Mark,” his boss said, “you really had us worried.” He pulled the younger manager back, concern painted on his face. “Of course you aren’t fired, I don’t know why you’d think that of me,” he said, a moment so raw that Mark felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “You should’ve just told me you were so sick. So you could go and rest. I would’ve even let Matt go with you.” Elijah patted his knee then, and handed Mark back the mug. “It’s just a restaurant, Mark. You’re more important than service.”

Mark felt his eyes well up once again. Had anyone ever told him he was worth more than the work he did? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that felt like an even harder gut-punch.

“I just…” he managed, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just didn’t wandt you to replace mbe. I’mb sorry for letting Mbatt get mbe sick.”

At this, Elijah actually laughed. “Mark,” he said, “you’re young. You’re in love; it comes with the territory. I was annoyed because Greyson and Matt are constantly getting everyone in that restaurant sick. I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He smiled then, a small and slightly sad smile. “I’m sorry if that’s how to came off.”

Mark didn’t know what to say; he felt awful, like he’d been hit by a semi, and he just wanted to sleep. See Matt. Apologize for being a dick. And sleep.

“Is Mbatt mad at mbe?” he croaked, pulling his legs into his chest. This time, Elijah actually laughed.

“I don’t think Matt knows how to be mad at you,” he said. “He’s just closing up the line; he was actually the one who brought you back here, but you were racked out so I said I’d come keep an eye on you till he got back.” Elijah shrugged, gave a little knowing smile. “He’ll be back soon. Okay? We don’t have to talk any more about this now. Just… try to sleep.” He patted Mark’s shoulder; a fatherly gesture from a man who claimed to know nothing about being a parent. “I’ll call Matt.”

Finally, finally, Mark conceded. He wanted to thank Elijah, or maybe apologize again, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead, he just nodded, grateful, and sank back into his pillow. He felt his eyes close, and allowed himself, for once, to let someone else take care of him.

He knew, maybe for the first time in his life, that he was safe.

[pjsk-writin]

INBOX OPENN?! YAY IM ON TIME. Anyway can I request Akito, Rui, Tsukasa, and Mizuki where you were childhood friends and haven’t seen each other in awhile? I don’t know if you want to know if it’s Plantonic or Romantic but it’s up to you. Ty and please keep safe!

OOOOO ill leave it up to interpretation but stay safe as well !! i hope u like this! <3

♡ LONG TIME CHILDHOOD FRIENDS - Akito Shinonome, Rui Kamishiro, Tsukasa Tenma and Mizuki Akiyama x Reader

Akito:

Akito's childhood was neither here nor there, so you both faced a lot of problems together

Any time something went down in his family, he would immediately go to you, not saying anything as he simply wanted to be in your company

When you end up moving away, he's not sure what to do with himself, but he tries to forget about you

Of course he doesn't, he still remembers your favorite color and favorite snack when you were young

You end up bumping into him while he's doing a street performance. You both met eyes as you were walking, and the shock of seeing him again makes you freeze

He's distracted for the first time, barely able to remember his set list as he keeps his eyes on you. There was no way it was you, right?

Immediately afterward, you both run to meet each other, and he can't help himself from hugging you. "When did you get back here? Ah whatever, I'm just glad to see you again."

Rui:

Rui's childhood was...something, to say the least. You were his best friend and he stuck to you like glue

You were with him as he started to get into robotics, encouraging his schemes and plans even when other kids started treating him as a weirdo

Your departure from his life shatters him, but he tries to move on as best as he could

He never moves on. He gets reminded of you all the time, and it kind of breaks his heart.

However, it all changes when you of all people come up to him after a WxS performance. Granted, he didn't see you in the crowd, but you recognized him

You went to tell him how good he did in the show, but he found himself bewildered to be face to face with you again. He almost cries, but he hides it as he embraces you

"Oh my god, it's you..." He whispers, still in shock as he pulls back to smile at you, "I've missed you so much." You spend time catching up with him afterwards!

Tsukasa:

Growing up, Tsukasa had quite the childhood. You were one of his only friends he had growing up

You stuck with him throughout elementary school, helping him as Saki went to the hospital, but you were forced to move away once you both grew older

He promised that he'd find you again one day, and kept a little charm you both made once close to his heart

He never backed down from a promise, and made sure to keep looking out for you even as the years passed

Finally, finally, one day, he saw you walking around Phoenix Wonderland. He recognized the charm you had almost immediately, and practically screamed your name

You were surprised to hear your name in the middle of an amusement park, but when you saw the man currently barreling towards you, it all made sense

He tackled you in the tightest hug he could, already excitedly talking your ear off as he looked you over, his eyes sparkling brightly. "I told you we'd see each other again!"

Mizuki:

You had stuck with Mizuki through a lot, they had been through a lot growing up after all

You had been with them before middle school and through the first year of it, however you both had been separated after you were forced to move

They were extremely upset about losing you, and they would always find themselves missing you on the loneliest of days

As the years passed, they never expected to see you again. It had been way too long, there was no way...

But, when they were out at the mall, they saw you from a random shop and almost dropped everything they had bought in their haste to see you

They called your name out, and you turned to look at them, surprise evident on your face. You both embraced, and you comment they seem happier, especially with how they've changed

They can only smile wide, squeezing you tighter in a hug as they looked down at the ground. "I think I'm even happier now that you're here."

taglist ! ; @fayeelikefairie , @akitofixated , @starry-sky-melody , @akiyamasmizuki , @memoriesmelody , @sorazvlief , @playingwithmatchboxes , @mizuruism , @remuchen , @lovecord25 , @averagemizukikinnie , @vai1en , @akitosheart

[lomltrentarnold]

❛ alleged girlfriend. (part 2) ❜ — trent alexander-arnold

❪ part one / part two ❫

warnings : childhood best friends to lovers, mutual pining, smau at the end.

hana’s notes : hey y’all!! you don’t have to read the first part to understand this one, it can be read as a stand-alone 😘 got me giggling while writing this fr (i am mentally ill) hope y’all like this <3

MAIN MASTERLIST

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

Sneaking out of a party with Trent wasn’t something new. You have been doing it since you were fifteen but you were amazed how it still had the the same rush 10 years later.

Sounds of laughter boomed around the beach as Trent almost lost his balanced and trip for not looking straight up front. He was looking at you, but you didn’t want to dwell to deep on that.

“Watch where you going, T!” you giggled, fingers tightening itself around his, as he almost took you with him to face plant onto the sand.

He chuckled, “Sorry!” pulling your body closer to his, trying to keep steady. His hand instinctively rested on your waist, thumb running over your hip.

And maybe he just wants to be close to you, but you didn’t need to know that.

The party quieted down when you both stepped outside, the music sounded like it was underwater, making the night more peaceful. It was lucky that the party was on a beach house. The smell of salty ocean already hitting your nose.

There were people scattered along the beach, most of them were in groups and some of them you’re assuming were couples.

You suddenly felt awkward walking alone with Trent. But then you immediately stuffed that thought away.

Best friends walk together along the beach, while holding hands and giggling, right?

“What‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Trent asked, you were more quieter than usual and he could feel you losing yourself in your thoughts, so he wanted to know what you were thinking.

Your hands were swinging back and forth between you two, the wind kissing your skin, your hair flowing along with it. Trent caught himself staring at you multiple times, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just distracted by your hair movement.

That’s normal for best friends, right?

“Nothin’, I’m just—“ you sighed, shoulders relaxing, “—happy to be here. I missed this.”

I missed you. You wanted to add.

“Ya didn’t miss me?” he smirked, bumping your shoulder’s together.

Damn it, can he read minds?

You lightly scoffed, shaking your head, “Yeah, sure.”

Comfortable silence hangs between you two as continue to walk along the beach. The sound of the waves hitting the shore filled in the atmosphere, it made you feel at home. Finally.

Your eyes wander around the dark night sky, grinning wildly when you spotted twinkling stars and a full moon. “Trent, look! It’s a full moon!” you gushed out excitedly, pulling on Trent’s sleeve, and pointing at the sky. Your gaze never once left the scenery. You have always love the moon, ever since you were kids. It’s nice to know that some things never change. Trent’s gaze was stuck on you. The way you look under the glimmering night sky, made his heart rate speed up.

But, It’s okay to think that your best friend is pretty, right?

Trent couldn’t help himself. He reached in his pocket, taking out his phone and taking a picture of you.

He just thinks it’s a pretty scene and he needs to keep the image forever. That’s normal for best friends, right?

When you heard a camera click off behind you, you snapped your head towards Trent. Noticing the that he was taking a picture of you. “What’re you doing?” you nervously laughed.

“Nothing.” he huffed with warm cheeks, acting like he didn’t just got caught red handed. Before turning off his phone and putting it back in his pocket.

You rolled your eyes, as you slowly stopped in your tracks.

“Ya feet hurt?”

Sometimes you hate how he can read you so well.

You nodded, “Yeah.” a small pout forming on your lips and Trent has to force himself to not stare at it for too long.

“Come ‘ere.”

Trent sit down on top of the sand, pulling you down to sit next to him.

The night flew by, conversation went on as you both talked about your careers, family, friends accomplishments, drama, everything honestly.

Trent looked at you as the conversation died down. Big brown eyes stared into yours, it made your stomach flutter. You sighed, eyes involuntary dropping to his lips. You were hoping that he didn’t notice, but when you saw the slightest smirk curve up on his lips, you think you got caught red handed too.

“Trent?” you softly whispered, afraid to break the comfortable bubble you both were in.

Trent’s raised his eyebrows, encouraging you to continue.

Pausing for a moment, you shyly said, “I really do missed you.” you dropped your head a little. The eye contact was getting a little too intense.

Suddenly you felt Trent’s fingers brushing on your chin, tilting it up, so that you would look at him. “I really missed you too.” he muttered, warm breath hitting your cheeks.

You don’t know who leaned in first, but you reacted to it naturally. Body moving forward as Trent did the same. But just before anything could happen, a voice disturbed you.

“Trent!” Marcel’s yelled — Trent’s younger brother — causing you both to back away.

You think you heard a faint damn it from Trent but you weren’t too sure.

Was he disappointed that he didn’t kiss you? Was he mad that he tried to kiss you? We’re you both really going to kiss?

Marcel’s footsteps drew nearer as he continued to call out for his big brother. “What are you doing out here— oh.” he stopped midway, eyes darting between you and Trent, and the distance of you both. “Sorry, if I interrupted you guys.”

“Yeah, you kind of did—“

“It’s alright, Marcel.” you cut off Trent. Hands moving to hold his in a comforting manner, brushing your fingers across his knuckles. You smiled at the young boy and asked, “Is everything okay?”

He return your smile, “Yeah, I need a ride home and all of my friends are just about wasted.” he winched, looking at you and Trent apologetically.

Trent nodded his head in understanding, “Oh, well then.“ he stood up, pulling you up with him. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded, and moved to stand next to the younger boy, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. “So, what has been going on with you?” you asked, Marcel eyes lit up as he caught you all up with his stories from the walk to the car and the drive home. Not noticing how Trent was looking at the you with the fondest look on his face the whole time.

But that’s normal for best friends, right?

• • •

trentarnold66 posted on their story!

YOURUSERNAME just posted!

yourusername absolutely adore beach nights <3

view the replies!

user1 is she with Trent????

andyrobertson So that’s where you guys went 🤔

→ yourusername he was the one who wanted to go out 🙄

→ trentarnold66 Hey! You didn’t say no 🙄!

→ andyrobertson Okay, relax. You both are acting like an old married couple.

virgilvandijk The view is beautiful 😍

jordanhenderson I love the view 😉😍

→ curtisjr Me too mate!

→ _fabio.10 I agree!!

→ judebellingham i am onboard!

→ harvelliot So gorgeous ❤️

→ yourusername what is going on here 🤨

user2 omg is this the girl ???

user3 I love her relationship with the team 😭😭

user4 i ship her and Trent 💕

→ user7 me too!!

user5 they look so cute together 🥺🥺🥺

user6 OMG IM SCREAMING

user8 mom and dad

user10 Back off Trent is mine 🙄

→ user12 NO HE’S MINE!

user11 who is she

user9 this poor girl is gonna be so confused when she reads the comments 😭😭😭

footballcelebritynews just posted!

footballcelebritynews Trent Alexander-Arnold seen with the same girl again after a private party last night!

view the replies!

user1 they look so cute together!!!!

user2 y’all need to chill they’re just friends

user14 we lost him guys 😕

user3 who even is this girl?

user4 Post about Bellingham.

user5 is this the girl from trent’s story????

→ user8 I think so

→ user9 Yupp

user14 heart been broke so many times 😔

user15 no Trent give me a chance!!!

user6 Why is she suddenly everywhere?

→ user7 right?!!!! she came out of nowhere and now she’s suddenly close with trent and the boys??? somethings fishy 🤔🤔🤔

→ user11 I think she’s a clout chaser

→ user10 maybe they have known each other before 🤷‍♀️ common sense is free guys

→ user12 nah fr 💀

user13 the people that are acting like they actually have a chance with trent LMAOOO

reblog for a kiss <3

[cyten0]

A Symphony in Crimson

Act 1: A Movement in Black

Chapter 6

… You're back. No. Nonononono

◉ “-frin!”

No no no she needs to get away she needs to leave now!!!

◉ “Good morning Siffrin! Well more like good after… Siffrin?”

You can smell her, she looks delicious, you can’t think, you shouldn’t be here, why are you here, you're so hungry, she smells amazing, you can’t think, d̴̛̤on’t hurt her̶̙͆, don’t hư̴͇rt her, d̴̛̤o̸n’t̴̟̾ ̷͍̉h̸̘̚ur̶͔͗t̵̖̉ ̵͈͝ḫ̸͗e̷̹͐r̶̙͆

You brace yourself against the ground, you cover your mouth, You try and breathe, but every breath carries her scent and makes it harder to think. You can feel your body move involuntarily, barely holding itself in shape. You're having to hold back your every impulse to not leap at her and bite down on her- N̷̹͕̠̋̔Ǫ̸̈ Don’t do it don’t hurt her!!!

◉ “SIFFRIN!!!”

AH! She just grabbed you!

◉ “Are you okay? You were shaking really badly, and you look pale, what’s going on?!?”

You need to convince her to leave, NOW, before you-

✦ “H-Had a nightmare! C-Could you… Give me some space? I just… Need a bit to calm down!”

◉ “Are you sure? Do you need anything? I could-”

✦ “P̵͔̽LEASE! J-Just. I. I just need a moment!”

She stops. And reluctantly let’s go.

◉ “… Ok. I’ll wait for you up ahead. Talk to me when you're feeling a bit better, alright?”

You wait for her to walk off. Still holding yourself in place. You wait for her scent to fade. Before finally. Taking a breath in. And out. In… and out...

You. You're back here. You won, and yet you're back here. Why? What went wrong? The Housemaiden said something went wrong, did you mess something up? Or, is there some other threat? STARS you don’t know what to do!!!

You. You need to talk to Loop. Maybe they have ideas. But to do that. You have to get to the favor tree.

This is not going to be easy. But… You’ve had some time to compose yourself. And Loop can get you an extra meal, which should help you at least manage.

Get up, Siffrin. You aren’t quite done yet.

◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉

There’s Siffrin! You watch him come up the path, you were starting to get worried! He looked REALLY bad there. In fairness, you've all worried about their health at times, but today it’s much worse!

◉ “Siffrin! There you are, I was worried about you! You doing better?”

✦ “...Yeah! All good. Don’t worry about me.”

They're smiling in this weird way. You know they probably don’t want to talk about it, but…

◉ “Are you SURE? You… REALLY didn’t seem okay. If you want to talk about it-”

✦ “It’s fine! Just had a dream about getting set on fire.”

Oh no is their fear of fire coming back?!?… Oh no, he’s got that look on his face…

✦ “But I'd say I've cooled down.”

◉ “Oh! Siffrin!”

Sigh. Well, you guess if he’s joking around he can’t be too bad off.

But… You know you didn’t imagine it. When you grabbed him, it felt like… Something was moving inside him. And that look in his eyes. And that voice…

✦ “Anyways, I have some things to do. I’ll talk to you later!

◉ “Huh? Um, Siffrin, Please wait!”

They turn towards you, looking a little antsy.

◉ “I-I know your busy but… Just… When you get the chance, come talk to me, okay? So we can talk!”

✦ “Oh, uh… Ok? Sure!”

◉ “Ok, go do your thing!”

You watch him head off toward the favor tree…

Normally, you would just wait for him to talk to you. You’re not one to pry! He has secrets! It’s not right to pry!…

But… Whatever that was. It’s way more then a nightmare. Siffrin’s always been a bit odd, varying between fatigued and weirdly competent at random. They might be pushing things before the king...

You decide to quietly follow him. J-Just to make sure he’s still okay!

As you head over, you bump into Isabeau right away!

▲ “Oh, hey Mira! What’s up?”

◉ “O-Oh nothing! Just… Is Siffrin alright? He looked really ill earlier, a-and I thought I saw something weird, and he didn’t want to talk about it, but I was worried!”

▲ “Hm. Dunno. I kinda gave him some space since he wanted to ask a favor from the favor tree. But now that you mention it, they did seem a little off.”

This doesn’t bode well. If it was just you, you’d try and calm down, but Isabeau too? You know it’s rude to spy on them, but you can’t back down now!

▲ “… Do you think we should keep an eye on him?”

◉ “I-I uh. Well, I know we shouldn’t pry, but…”

▲ “I understand. Just a quick look! We’ll go through the trees, make sure he’s alright, and he won’t even notice!”

◉ “O-Okay!”

You both quietly sneak through the adjacent woods, and find a spot to look. But… Right away, you notice something off. There’s a weird glowing person there!?! They're staring at Siffrin, waiting, and he’s just staring at the ground.

◉ “(We better get closer! I think they're going to talk!)”

Isabeau nods, and you both start shuffling closer.

✸ “… Well, let’s start with the good part! Congratulations, Stardust! You beat the king! Well done! Good for you!”

WHAT?!?!?

✦ “… But I’m still back here.”

✸ “Right, That’s the bad news. THAT sure is a problem, isn’t it?”

✦ “… Did you know?”

✸ “…Not really. I felt there was a possibility, but it came as a surprise to me too, honestly!”

✦ “What do I do?!? We beat the King! That should have been it! What went wrong?!? I don't-”

✸ “Calm down. Take a deep breath.”

The two take slow breaths, in and out. And meanwhile, you and Isabeau are utterly confused?!? What do they mean they beat the king? You all haven't even gone to the house!?!

Wait. Did that strange figure just look at you? It was only for a half second but-

✸ “Alright. Let’s recap, just to see if we missed something! First. Your stuck in a timeloop~ Every time you die, and now apparently after talking to the Head Housemaiden, you come back to today! Second, and this was why I started suspecting this outcome, we have no idea WHY it’s happening~"

✦ “… Right. It just started all of a sudden. Heck I even figured it was a monster thing at first, didn’t I?”

A timeloop?!? You read some stories about stuff like that but. That’s crazy!… But you guess the king can mess with time, so it’s not TOO far out there, you guess. How does that even happen?

...But what was that about a monster thing?

✸ “Right, which leads us to number three, the most pressing issue. Your hunger~ We’ve been keeping it at bay with sadnesses so far, but their lack of actual substance has officially caught up! Full on crash now! Which leaves two options.”

Siffrin looks up, confused. You are even more confused?!? Has Siffrin been eating Sadnesses? WHY? Isabeau looks just as confused as you are!

But… You wonder. Those strange things you saw there. Was that… Real? That movement you felt inside them... Does Siffrin have some kind of weird parasite or something?

✸ “The first is to find a way to sneak meals while you're in the house. If I have some time in a given loop, I could reach farther, and maybe grab some unfrozen wildlife outside of Vaugarde. Otherwise you might have to… Improvise.”

Siffrin glares and the figure.

✦ “Improvise. How.”

✸ “I know you wouldn’t normally, but given you can turn back time, You could potentially grab one of the locals…”

✦ “No. I’m not going to eat a person. Never again.”

W-What? That. No way… People? That. That can’t just be a parasite!!!

That’s… And. He said... again?… Does that mean he’s… Oh Change, you're shaking! What… What exactly has Siffrin been dealing with?!?

✸ “Fair enough! Worth double checking! I know that’s a line you won’t cross! Which really just leaves one option… Are you SURE you don’t want to talk to your party? If you can’t find an opening normally, your best bet is to just see if they’ll give you one.”

✦ “NO. I can’t let them know. I’ll think of something. Just. We can keep going off sadnesses for now. It’ll be tough, but I’ll manage. At least long enough to get out. I mean. It’s just one more hurdle.”

✸ “So persistent, Stardust! Well then, I suppose Mirabelle will be disappointed! She DID say she wanted to talk to you~ Might want to talk anyways, just to ease her mind! And to remind her of the CARROT method, since you forgot!”

The CARROT method?… OH!! Right, you were working on a shield spell, wait so… Oh that makes so much sense, why didn’t you think about that?? GAH! Nevermind that!!

Regardless, You feel like you and Isabeau have heard way more then you should have already. You turn to him and whisper.

◉ “(I think we’ve heard more then we should, we should go)”

▲ “(R-Right. We’ll ask about this lat-)”

✸ No. Do NOT confront him. He might get desperate.

WHAT!?! Was that. Did that mysterious person just talk INTO your head?!?

✸ Stardust needs time to figure out what to do.

▲ “(He needs to talk about this!!! We can help!)”

✸ ...Maybe you need a demonstration as to how bad the situation is.

✦ “Right. So… That just leaves finding more about what’s happening to me.”

✸ “Right! Now, so you can have a SLIGHTLY clear head before we talk about that, may I suggest getting a meal first?”

✦ “sigh I guess we should. Maybe we should try for something a bit bigger this time, since I’ve gotten better at fighting. Maybe that really tough sadness from the first floor?”

✸ “Fair enough! Still not very filling, but it should keep you at least sane for the next loop or so!”

You watch as the figure flicks his wrist, and a weird gateway appears in a strange shade you’ve never seen! Out of it falls a huge, orb headed sadness that towers over you all! Oh change, this close to town?!? You have to-

You don’t even get a second before Siffrin’s entire body twists and lunges. With a visceral sound of ripping flesh and cracking bone, his body unravels into a writhing mess of black tendrils, limbs, and fangs, framed by Siffrins white cloak and face.

The towering sadness doesn’t even have time to make a noise before it’s throat is pierced and it’s body is bound. You nearly scream, but Isabeau covers your mouth before you can. It tries to squirm to escape, but Siffrin just starts ripping it apart piece by piece, until a massive gaping maw opens up from where his body should be, and you watch the last bit of sadness is dropped past Siffrins cold, emotionless face, into his cavernous maw. And as it falls in, you see Siffrin… Smile. Like it was nothing.

You just stare in shock. That… You… You know it was just a sadness but…

Siffrin takes a moment in that form, before slowly, methodically, squeezing it back together, tightly packing tendrils into arms, legs, hands and feet, and skin begins to form above it’s surface, before fabric weaves itself from hair above. And for just a second, you see his face, with lightless eyes, interrupted by a strange crossed slits of that unusual shade before a light substance slowly forms over their surface, turning his eyes back to normal.

Isabeau starts dragging you away. You can scarcely believe what you saw. And as you try to think, the figures voice fills your mind.

✸ That is what we are dealing with. So again. Don’t confront him. Because right now, nothing you can do would matter.

… You don’t even realize when you’ve gotten out of the woods, until you are back in daylight.

You don’t know what to say. What do you even do? Where do you even start?

▲ “… So Siffrin’s been protecting us from that, this whole time?”

That shocks you right out of it instantly!

◉ “Huh?”

▲ “Whatever… That was. They talked about it as if it had been the case for a while. Might have been since we first met. But Siffrin clearly doesn’t want to hurt anyone."

▲ “And he hasn’t. Saved our lives on more then one occasion. And, you heard what they said. Even when they have the chance, they're sticking to not hurting anyone.”

...Isabeau’s right. Siffrin won’t hurt you all. But the fact he’s doing this alone…

◉ “I-I still want to talk to him. They shouldn’t have to deal with… With ANY of that alone!”

▲ “Agreed. I don’t care what that figure says, we have to talk to them about it. I’ll head up to the view of the castle, I’ll let you have the first go at talking to them, since you asked beforehand.”

◉ “… Fair point. I-I’ll try.”

▲ “You got this Mira!”

You aren’t going to press him on it, but you will try and get him to talk about it. You just hope it’ll be enough.

✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸

✸ -Because right now, nothing you can do would matter.

… You watch as they hurry off. You hope that should be enough to prevent an incident, or at least buy you time until you’ve finished talking things out with Stardust. They need a clear head for this, and talking to the party is not something they are ready to do.

As are you honestly, just seeing them reminds you of… Anyways! Back to it! You have a job to do, after all!

✸ “I take it that was a little more filling?”

✦ “Yeah, a little. It’ll keep me going at least. Still hard to think, but it’s something.”

✸ “Good! Now then, let’s see… Where to go from here…”

>>>

✦ “Alright, I better get started! Library, Head Housemaiden, and the King.”

✸ “Don’t forget to talk to Mirabelle, Stardust!”

✦ “Right. I’m not looking forwards to that.”

You're sure it’ll be fine, right? But…. You feel a presence at the back of your mind urge you to tell them. …Right. You’d better at least hint at it! You guess if she does confront them, and they found out you hid it, it wouldn’t bode well~

✸ “You REALLY need to though! I have a SLIGHT suspicion that she saw something earlier, likely when you woke up~”

✦ “Oh!… Right. I was just thinking she was worried, but if she actually saw something… I’ll. I’ll get on that.”

You smile and wave at stardust as they walk away!

… Hm. That thought. That was your patron, wasn’t it? You get the sense that you just avoided a dire situation, but nothing more notable. But given their otherworldly nature, and role as the possibilities of the journey, you’d best trust that instinct~ That said, you feel Mira wouldn’t press them on this, so then… Why did you need to do that?

▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲

Crab. You watched Mira and Siffrin’s chat, and the whole topic got fully avoided in favor of those papers. You guess you're gonna have to talk to him. Oh you REALLY didn’t want to have to do that. But SOMEONE has to.

Come on, Isabeau, be brave! You can be brave for Sif!

Siffrin’s been talking to the others for a bit, so you're using that time to calm yourself down, just a little.

Okay. Whew. Okay. Here they come. Just, start off with a normal chat! Normal Isa!

▲ “Heya Sif! How’s it going? You looked like you were in a rush earlier? Everything alright?”

✦ “Yep! Everything's fine!”

▲ “You sure? Mirabelle mentioned you uh. Weren’t doing so well a bit ago.”

Sif looks off to the side, trying not to meet your gaze

✦ “Yeah, it was just a nightmare! Nothing to worry about.”

▲ “… Ok, do you want to talk about it?”

Siffrin is starting to look a little confused at you.

✦ “I’m fine Isa. Don’t worry!”

Crab, he’s just gonna keep dodging it unless you bring it up, aren’t you? Ok. deep breath, and Go.

▲ “Look, I-I know there’s more going on. Mira said she saw something weird, so, to put her at ease, I took a look at what you were doing at the favor tree! And uh. Might have. Heard some stuff. And. Seen some stuff. That I probably shouldn’t have?”

Sif freezes! Uh oh, nope, don’t make them panic!

▲ “I-It’s ok! I, I just. Figured you might want some help or. At least to talk to someone about it? I-If you're okay with that!!”

Crab, Isa, you're sweating bullets, you're so nervous about this, you don’t know how to go about this!!

✦ “H-How much did you see?”

OH. Uh. You. Better be honest about this.

▲ “I UH. Left after you were done with the. Um. When you were. Um. Done with... dealing with that sadness.”

CRAB CRAB CRAB Sif is looking like they're panicking, that’s not good, oh why couldn’t it have been someone else doing this talk!

✦ “Nonononononono”

▲ “L-Look I’m not gonna judge or anything, I’ll admit I have a lot of questions but-”

✦ “NȌ̷̻!!!”

The air starts to feel heavy, you feel it pressing around you. It’s hard to move! You… You smell burnt sugar?

✦ “I can’t! Not you!!!”

▲ “S-Sif? Calm down, it’s o-”

You watch as Sif plunges a clawed hand into his chest, and you hear something shatter.

《《《《《《《

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

… STARS!!! He saw! He BLINDING SAW!!!!

He was trying to hide it but you could smell it on him, you could hear it in his voice and his heartbeat! He was SCARED! Of YOU!!!

And why shouldn’t he?!? Of COURSE he saw the monster and got scared! Why did it have to be HIM? You didn’t want to see any of them scared of you, but it hurts WORSE when it’s HIM! He’s always smiling at you, having fun with you, making you feel like a person!! Seeing him scared was horrible!!!

… You. Just realized what you did. You… Killed yourself.

Not like normal, with the tears. You weren’t even thinking. You just felt your mind slipping, and felt your claws out and… Knew you had to do something. He…

When he was scared, it reminded you of when you were hunting. And he always smells so delicious... You don’t know if you would have done anything, but... You’re glad you stopped yourself. Just in case.

But. You guess that could work in future. You’d rather not, but. You guess if it’s an emergency, you can do that. If you. If your slipping. It’s a way to stop yourself.

Ok. Let’s… Try that again. And not worry Mira this time! Don’t want Isa to see that again. You still need to find out what to do for him!

Back to it Siffrin.

[cyberkitty1]

E!42 miles x thick/chubby black reader Part 2

Part 1

warnings: lowercase intended, mean family members

she walkes up eyeing miles like he was a prey and she was hunting him down, not before looking st you with utter disgust. “ not sure how ou could pull someone like this” she days looking at miles smiling “ and eho are you?” she says sweetly, way to sweetly.

“ miles” he says plainly “ no need to be salty! you can come with me so your not as sad, how bout it?” something inside you snapped, why was she always picking on you? its not like she looked any better, she looked like wendy williams post rehab.

“ no he wouldn’t sorry” she looks over at you “ i dont think i was talking to you?” “yea just like he dosent want to talk to you, if you dont mind, or even if you do could you leave?” she scoffs “ and who do you think your talking to miss piggy? why dont YOU leave? i thought you’d be gone by now!” she laughs as if you havnt heard it before.

“ oh you want me to leave? sure ill leave just like your 4 baby daddies that dont even pay child support might i add” the whole party was looking at you guys now, music turned down

“ you know its crazy how ive sat here all these years getting bullied by you but atleast i can keep a man! girl you get pregnant every year! arnt you on baby number 6? that baby bump is more visible than that volcano on your face” miles looked at you in utter shock “ how old are you again? 25?! have you ever heard of condoms or birth control?” at this rate she might as well left because everyone was snikering and laughing “ and dont even get me started on your lifted lace and chunky make up, i may not be skinny but atleast i know my shade, you walk in here lookin like that one james charles meme DONT play with me today”

everyone goes silent she just looks at you dumbfounded “if you have anything else to say, say it now or forever hold your peace” you say one last time before she scoffs rolls her eyes and walks off.

everyone kind of goes back to normal and miles just looks at you “ ive never seen you like this before” he says looking you in your eyes “ yea, sorry i just got fed up-“ “ hey you don’t have to apologize it was actually kinda hot” you laugh a little “ thank you miles” before you can bask in the radiant feeling your aunt, your cousins mom walks up to you

“ now who do you think you are talking to my baby like that?” you look at her dumb founded “ are you kidding me? you guys only talk down on me and now you have the utter audacity to walk up to me and ask why i’m treating your daughter how her and you have been treating me for YEARS?” you pause

“ you know there is absolutely nothing stopping me form dragging you too, you’re built like your constantly taking a big breath, you got the worst camel toes i have ever seen in my ENTIRE life and now i know where your daughter gets the “have a ton of baby daddies to the point where you dont know who the father is “attitude. that reminds me arnt you pregnant with your 10th child? and your 9th baby daddy? thats a world record somehow. you should call Nick Canon up here, y’all would make great friends.”

“ don’t ever talk down on me again or there will be consequences” you say finally before grabbing miles hand and leaving the party. miles stands next to his car looking at you absolutely dumbfounded “ what?” you ask confused “ you just dragged yo auntie in front of everyone! what do you mean what? ive never seen you stand up for yourself like this i’m proud of you” he says giving you a kiss on the cheek.

i just imagine you doing that like ugly giggle he loves lmao

.

.

.

🏷️ @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @malllywally @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse @lexixiii @swaqlover @yoursidehismain @florencepughswife030196 @lethycia @edgyficuselastica @druiggf @onsimpshii @lovely-horror-show @vivsamortentia @leighs-gallery @remuslupinsno1slut @steve-harringtons-bitch @shurisbbymama @bunnybabylovesstuff @karmascute @c4rine @janaeby @mookiebutt @paraccosm @zkristuz @reflectionsinrealtime @mindymeeksrules @nagi3seastorm @popeheywardssecretgf @be3_Fl0w3er @piopio @hoodypunpurri @hiyoo-o @enchanting-violet @inluvwithneteyam

if y’all think this is cringe lmk so i can remake it lmao

[fatuismooches]

Hello smooches! Before I begin, I wanted to say I LOVED your fragile reader story! And I can’t stop rereading everything you write about dottores beloved because it makes me feel so fluffy inside🥹🥹. Though I was expecting a sad ending it still made me cry like a baby and now I wanna fight but also hug you for how freaking talented you are!!! I swear I wish I could write as amazing as you do!

Now back to business, (ANGST) I had this random thought of fragile reader going blind due to their illness. Like it started slowly, so reader would randomly bump into things or trip causing Zandik or the clones to lightly scold them for being so clumsy but also make sure they’re okay. Or struggling to read one of the stories to little zandy due to how strangly blurry the words were.

And once one of the clones who was assigned to check their health, quickly noticed the deteriorating sign of the readers sight. This of course led to Zandik doing multiple tests and scans, coming to conclusion this was part of the disease fragile reader has. Preforming eye surgery on his beloved wasn’t an option either due to how frail their body was and it would cause far too much strain, therefore deemed too risky.

This would of course lead to fragile reader going fully blind and more in an upset state. Now officially no longer able to see those beautiful red eyes of his, or marvel at his creations.

Dottore however, despite being disappointed by this new obstacle, he doesn’t give up finding a cure. Going the extra mile to have fragile reader escorted around the halls of the lab by one of the clones and having them memorize the place so they don’t bump into walls or randomly end up in dangerous rooms. They would even round some of the edges of tables and desks so fragile ready couldn’t hurt themselves by bumping into it and ensuring all dangerous objects were out of the walk way. Though fragile reader wouldn’t be able to go in the lab anymore due to so many sharp objects and tripping hazards they always find themselves somehow inside leading to the clones panic and escorting them back to their room.

I like to imagine zandy too holding readers hand while escorting them around or even foxttore tugging on reader’s leg and leading them back after getting lost.

Dottore or one of the clones would have reader place their hands on his face allowing them to feel every scar and crevice, and brushing their fingers against his fluffy hair. He would even take fragile readers hand and place it over one of his creations (the safer ones), allowing them to figure out what it is.

Anyways have a wonderful year and thank you so much for the Dottore thoughts I’ve been inhaling them in as of it were oxygen. 💝💝

AHHH!! ❤️❤️ Thank you so so much!! I'm really happy you enjoy my Dottore hehe the goal is to make you feel very very fluffy!! >:) Here's my obligatory *hugs you* ofc ewjfbww I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE YOU CRY BUT PLEASE. I JUST LOOKED AT YOUR ART AND IT'S SO DELICIOUS I'M GONNA EAT IT?? I WISH I COULD DRAW LIKE THAT DOTTORE LOOKS ABSOLUTELY STUNNING?!?! (BUT REALLY YOU'RE ALWAYS WELCOME FOR THE DOTTORE THOUGHTS!!)

But omg this whole brainrot is just... 💔 It's just one of those things you'd never thought would happen to you. Your illness had already taken so much from you, that you thought it couldn't steal anything else... you were wrong of course, fate had never been kind to you. You didn't pay much attention to the developing blurs or black spots, just chalking it up to being tired or whatever. However, the segments are extremely attentive to your sudden changes and don't let anything slip by them. Although this time it is already too late. There is nothing that can be done that wouldn't hurt you even more, and so you lose your visual window to the world. And though the segments and Dottore try to comfort you, what can they say that could make it better? Nothing would ever make up for losing such a crucial part of your life. They can only hold you as you cry about how scared you are to lose them. And how you want to wake up every day to them but now a part of that is taken away, no longer being able to see their beautiful faces.

In the beginning, without your sight, you have the need to either consistently hear Dottore's voice or hold a part of his body to feel reassured, otherwise, you feel terrified and alone. You don't want to be by yourself, you end up falling asleep on a segment or Dottore every night. It's very hard for you to navigate but thankfully your lovers are very patient and understanding. You miss going into the lab and bothering them with the experiments but at the least, you can listen to their voices. Their voices become much more special to you after losing your vision. You really start to notice how each of them has different tones, pitches, inflections... and how these things can change. Since you can't read their expressions or body language anymore. You love each of their voices immensely. And their warmth too... it makes you feel reassured. (They make sure to warm their hands just for you.) Unfortunately, the places you can walk around to are a lot more limited due to the fact that Dottore's lab in general is a whole safety hazard. Good thing is that Zandy is always willing to help,, I imagine he's always the one to read to you now... maybe you can't see his drawings anymore but he always takes your hand and places it over them... excitedly telling you about his childish drawings that you love so much!! Giggles the Puffttores as well... dozens of them crawling up your leg to stop you... they and Foxttore will defend you to the DEATH.

You definitely become a lot more touchy, and the clones won't stop you from touching them all over if that will make you feel better. Aww you guessing his new inventions 🥹 It would totally become a guessing game and he'd refuse to give you any hints! And even though you may not be able to see his beauty anymore, you vow to never forget the picture of him in your head.

[listenheresweaty]

BURGER VAN BURGER VAN—- Top text, Bottom text. ——— REVIVEBUR X READER - omg guys it’s here can you believe that I took four months to post something I had already written out

——-

Warnings: copious alcohol consumption, mentions of ableist remarks, allusions to underage drinking, jokes about alcoholism by people with drinking problems (addiction is a mental illness guys. Please be respectful about it.) The alcoholism stuff started off as humor based on my own experiences*. I had intended on expanding on it and making it into a larger plot line about recovery/etc but I do not know if I’ll ever continue this work.

*alcohol has played a role in my life but I am not technically an addict. If anything in this fic is offensive, please let me know and I’ll change it/ take it down.

Reader is called “guy” but is otherwise gender neutral. 

There are a couple jokes about Beeduo flirting but it is intended humorously, not with any romantic intent. 

—————-

It was a blisteringly, stupidly hot day, made only more intolerable by the long expanses of hot sand and lack of vegetation. Although, you supposed it was your fault for deciding to get a job in the Las Nevadas Casino- quite literally smack dab in the middle of a desert. Fortunately, just in the edges of the desert territory, where the sands met fresh green grass, sat a quaint, almost minuscule burger van. It received very few customers, partly due to the uninhabited nature of the area and partly because of the owner’s less than appealing reputation. 

You believed that the owner’s— his name was Wilbur--  reputation was mostly undeserved. Sure, he had done some extremely questionable things in his past, and continued to carry himself with a madman’s easy grace and confidence, sending people scurrying out of his way— it was fair to say that most of the people you knew were afraid of Wilbur, despite his lack of physical strength. You, however, could never find him intimidating. He was too much of a loser complete dork. 

Wilbur certainly wasn’t imposing as you walked up to him, eyeing his tall form awkwardly making its way through the van that was clearly too small for him. 

He looked so silly, leaning over the burgers as they cooked, that it was hard to imagine that this was the same man everyone spoke about with such fear. You had to laugh. 

Wilbur stood up straight at the sound, bumping his head against the van’s ceiling and letting out a stream of curses that stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on you. 

“Quite the colorful vocabulary you have.” You teased, approaching the vans window with a playful smile. “Perhaps we should wash your mouth out with soap.”

Wilbur stood still for a moment, hand still braced against the van ceiling, before he relaxed and sent you a lopsided smile. “Only if you do it, darling.”

“Oh shut up.” You laughed. “Why in the world would you make the van so small, anyway? It’s not like it benefits your coworker- the kid’s even taller than you are.” 

“Never question the logic of a genius.” Wilbur sighed like a cat stretching out in the sun, leaning out of the van with his elbows against the windowsill. “What are you doing all the way out here, anyway? You should be working. Don’t tell me-“ he grinned impossibly wider, leaning even closer, “that you missed me that much?”

You snorted. “Absolutely not. You must be concussed. How hard did you hit your head?”

Wilbur’s bottom lip pulled downwards in an exaggerated pout. “Quite hard, actually. I think I might need to see a doctor.” He sighed, dramatically. 

“Awww, poor baby.” You cooed with false sympathy, reaching up above to run your fingers through Wilbur’s brown curls. “Where’d you hit yourself? Here?”

Wilbur was struck dumb, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out—clearly, he wasn’t used to being flirted with. He regained his composure quickly, leaning into your touch with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Mhmm.” He sighed, keeping up the act. “I’m afraid it’s terminal. They’ll have to pull the plug on me.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m already hallucinating.” Wilbur announced, ever so dramatically. “Oh, [Name], sweetheart, will you cry at my funeral?” 

“Of course.” You snickered, trying hard to keep a straight face. “Hallucinating? Really?” 

“Hm.” A smirk pulled at Wilbur’s lips. “I’m already seeing angels.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Must every sentence you utter twist itself into a pickup  line?” 

“Only for you.” The corners of Wilbur’s mouth pulled upwards to form an uncharacteristically genuine grin. The smile disappeared as fast as it came, making you wonder if you had only imagined it. 

“Why don’t you come inside?” Wilbur offered, leaning back into the van (and nearly hitting his head, once again, against the top of the window frame).  

You hesitated. 

“I have air conditioning in here.” He added. 

“Open the door.” You said immediately, making your way to the back of the van and jiggling the doorknob. You heard Wilbur laugh and cross the threshold quite quickly, almost frantically unlocking the doors in order to grab your hand and hoist you in. You sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool air washing over you, whisking away the sheen of sweat that the heat had formed on your skin. 

Wilbur patted the counter next to him and you complied, sitting on the cool marble surface and letting your feet dangle as she observed the world outside the van window. It was a beautiful day outside, all things considered. 

Wilbur gestured to the burgers that were still cooking (actually, at this point, you were fairly certain that they were burnt). “Do you mind if I continue churning out my mediocre meat meals?” He asked. 

You snorted. “Go ahead.” After a few beats of silence, you spoke again. “You know, your burgers aren’t that bad.” 

Wilbur hummed, but maintained focus on the dark slab of burnt meat he was trying to chisel off the grill with a spatula. “Is that so? They sure don’t seem to be bringing in many customers, do they?” He leaned in with a teasing grin. “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, darling.”

“It isn’t flattery.” You said. “It’s not your burgers that—“ 

You cut yourself off abruptly, cursing your mistake. 

Wilbur clearly understood what you had been about to say, and raised an eyebrow. The quality of his business wasn’t what customers were avoiding- people avoided him. 

“I suppose your right.” He said shrugging. His easygoing and flippant attitude had returned, but there was a more sullen, guarded undertone to his words. You wracked your brain for something to say, but nothing surfaced. 

A clinking of glass broke you out of your thoughts. “Want a drink?” Wilbur offered, eager to change the subject. 

You nodded absentmindedly.  The sun was setting in the horizon, marking the approach of closing hours for most businesses in the area, including the van. Wilbur rummaged through a wooden cabinet before pulling out two expensive-looking bottles and handing one to you. “Help yourself.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Vodka? Where did you get this?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a little place I know. Tiny little store far from here.”

“Hm. And this tiny little far-away store sells vodka with the Las Nevadas logo on the cap?” 

You heard him curse softly. 

“Damn.” Wilbur chuckled. “I forgot to remove those.”

You held out your glass as Wilbur filled it, before leaning back against the wall of the van. Wilbur leaned against the counter next to you. 

You swirled your cup around, eyeing the moving liquid before tilting your head back and taking a rather large sip. 

“So, what have you been up to?” You asked him. “When you’re not stealing expensive liquor from the casino?” 

Wilbur shrugged. “Well.. not much honestly. I’ve just been working here at the van. There’s not much I can do on most days— since my fry guy either forgets to come to work or is out flirting with the rival fry guy across the street. Then, I… ‘visit’ the casino.”

You hummed, draining your glass and gesturing for Wilbur to refill it. Wilbur complied. 

“Aren’t you permanently banned from the casino? My boss would kill you if he caught you on the premises.” You continued, only half joking. 

Wilbur laughed. “Oh, he could certainly try. But if a few bans can’t stop me, neither can he.” 

“Can’t he?”

“Of course not.” Wilbur snickered. “He’s like half my height.” 

“He could still snap you like a twig. Hell, I could snap you like a twig.” 

Wilbur smiled. “Oh, I know. It’s hot.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s hot? The fact that I can  beat you in a fight or that my boss can beat you in a fight?”

Wilbur choked on his drink. “Wh- YOU. Not- I’m not-“ 

You burst out laughing. “Damn, okay. I didn’t know that’s the kind of relationship you had with him.”

Wilbur spluttered. “N-no—!”

“I guess there’s more to your rivalry than meets the eye.” You sighed, grabbing the vodka bottle to refill your glass yourself since Wilbur was too busy coughing to oblige. “How romantic.”

“NO. I-I meant YOU—- I don’t have the hots for Quackity, for Gods sake. “ Wilbur looked somewhere between abashed and scandalized. “I hate the man!”

You drained your third glass. “Mm-hmm.” 

Wilbur huffed. “Well, going back to the topic of whether or not Alex— sorry, ‘your boss’—could beat me up-“ 

“He could.” You interjected. 

Wilbur sighed. “Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, YES he could beat me in a physical confrontation— stop smirking!—but you’re forgetting something important. Our rivalry is based on genius. On cold, calculated planning, ALWAYS staying one step ahead…” 

“…and burgers.” You said. 

“And burgers.” He agreed, finishing another glass. “Whew, I should quit drinking for today.”

“You should.” You found yourself saying, the vodka having greatly loosened your tongue. “We wouldn’t want one of today’s beautiful minds to go to waste for a pint or two of heavy liquor.” 

Wilbur stiffened, turning toward you slightly to look at you with wide eyes. His cheeks looked darker than usual, although that might have been the alcohol he had consumed. 

You blinked. “…What?” 

Wilbur paused before speaking, raising an eyebrow. “‘Beautiful mind’?” He repeated, trying to portray smugness but the waver in his voice betrayed some other emotion. “Me?”

You nodded, watching a crimson blush that certainly had nothing to do with the alcohol settle on Wilbur’s cheekbones. You continued speaking. “Yeah. I’ve never met someone who views the world like you do, or has the same talent with words as you. You’re like a poet, honestly. .. you’re pretty incredible.” 

Wilbur stared at you, caught completely off guard for the first time in his life. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to form coherent words, but failed. Oh, the irony. 

It was the last thing he had expected to hear, you realized as you studied his flushed face. After his return, people had been whispering about Wilbur, using several adjectives to describe him-- none of them pleasant. “Insane” and “a ticking time bomb” had been some of the nicer ones. To hear someone compliment the very same thing that everyone had chosen to pick apart and belittle must have moved him greatly. 

You wondered how people could be so foolish. Wilbur had done some reprehensible things, and continued to be morally gray at best, but he was still human.

“Broken mind,” they had all said as he walked past, thinking he wouldn’t hear.

“Beautiful mind,” You had told him. 

Wilbur looked like he wanted to cry, glancing away from you with a poorly suppressed, wobbly grin.

You wanted to hug him. Perhaps he’d appreciate that, after having been isolated and despised for years. 

“I mean that, you know?” You hastily added as Wilbur tried to scoff and brush it off.  

His head tilted.  “…Of course.”

You actually moved to hug him, startling the both of you. Standing a few inches in front of him, you hesitantly opened your arms, praying to the gods that you hadn’t made anything worse. 

He shuddered slightly, nodding, and sank against you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

The next day, you forced your way through the casino, with sluggish movements and a pounding headache. You must have drunk more than you thought yesterday. Regardless, you took off towards Wilbur’s burger van as soon as you had the chance. This time, there were two tall figures moving about in the van. Wilbur’s fry guy, a shy kid named Ranboo , had finally returned. 

Ranboo dipped his head in greeting as you approached. Wilbur remained facing towards the grill, seemingly determined not to burn more meat and unaware of your presence. 

“Hello Mx., what would you like to order?” Ranboo asked. 

“Hmmm… I’m a bit indecisive today. What do you suggest?” You responded. 

At the sound of your voice, Wilbur whipped around, swiveling the upper half of his body toward you and Ranboo. 

You met his eyes and smiled, eyes soft. 

“Well, our five-spice burger is pretty popular right now. If you, uh, aren’t a fan of spicy foods, then the chicken patty is also a popular option.” Ranboo was saying. You turned your attention back towards him. 

“Spicy burger sounds great, thank you.”

“And to drink?”

“Just a water, please.” You didn’t think you could handle alcohol after yesterday. Wow, you were a lightweight. 

“Water?” Wilbur asked as Ranboo turned to prepare the ingredients for your burger. “That’s kinda lame.”

“Shush, you.” You retorted. “How are you holding up, anyway?” 

Wilbur hesitated, and Nadia saw Ranboo glance at them curiously. He probably didn’t want to discuss his moment of weakness in front of his employee. 

“The hangover, I mean.” You added. “With all the alcohol you consumed yesterday, I’m surprised you came to work.” 

He relaxed a bit. “Yeah, I’m alright. Doing better than last night at least, but the headache’s a killer.” He frowned in mock offense. “And don’t you twist the story around! You drank almost as much as I did.”

You frowned. “I did not!” 

“You did too. Alcoholic.” 

“I am not an alcoholic. I’m not the one with three bottles of stolen vodka in a drawer.” You pointed out. Ranboo handed over your burger and water. “(Thank you, Ranboo.)”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Wilbur snorted. “You seem more of a wine person to me. You probably have a stash of Pinot noir under your bed or something.”

“Under my bed? Why the hell would anyone store alcohol under their bed?”

Wilbur shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a wine aunt thing.”

“I give you wine aunt vibes?” You asked. “I don’t even have any nephews or nieces. Or have ever been responsible for any kids.”

“Thank god for that.”

You grinned and halfheartedly slapped his shoulder, ignoring his last statement “Silence, fool.”

Ranboo coughed. “Uhh… if you guys are done flirting… it’s my break now. Can I go across the street?”

Wilbur waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” When Ranboo was out of earshot, he turned to Nadia and sighed. “Hypocrite. As if he isn’t heading to do the exact same thing.”

“Kids.” You shrugged, ignoring the part about the two of you flirting. 

“He’s seventeen.”

“Still a child. Until he turns eighteen, he’s still a child.”

“Fair enough.” Wilbur stared off towards where Ranboo had run off to before turning back to you hesitantly. “So… since he probably won’t return for the rest of the day, how about you and I go somewhere? Together? You can finish your burger along the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Go where?”

“I-I don’t know.” Wilbur’s confidence seemed to falter, his metaphorical mask slipping and revealing the nervousness beneath. “Just… walk? In general? I-I know some nice places— or, well, I know that there are nice places around here-“ 

“Sounds nice.” You interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “Should we go now, then?” 

Wilbur froze. “Yeah. Now. Now sounds good.” 

That’s it I’m done I can’t with this pacing

[littlefroginthegarden]

Sold to Heartsteel 1/24

its a liiiittle bit late but whatever... im trying to write an advents calendar fic, theres some buffer but ill write during the month so im also open to input if you have any good ideas :)

hope you enjoy!

Tags: semi-ironic adaptation of 'sold to one direction' trope so yeah theres obv selling involved, angst, fluff, friendship, romance, maybe smut, mlm, transmasc character, some transphobia but mostly just parents being shit but nothing explicit or slurs or stuff, yeah i think thats about it, ill update this if anything changes xoxo

Part 1

Hi, my name is Hwei and I’m a misunderstood artist. Well, that’s not exactly true. My Parents hate my art and they think it’s just a waste of time. But under the name DemonBrush I’m known all around the world, my art account just recently hit two million followers. Which didn’t help me at all in my real life. I’ve been 18 now for a few months but my parents still act like I’m 16. I haven’t finished school yet and I can’t move out because my anxiety has made working impossible so far. My parents don’t allow me to get therapy or meds and I’m on their insurance so there’s nothing I can do. I sigh and try to think about something else but looking out my small window into the dark December morning isn’t helping. I go and pull the curtains, turn on my fairy lights and sit at my small desk that is crammed between the bed and the heavy wooden dresser. 

My reflection stares at me in the mirror, dark shadows under my amethyst eyes, a sign that I slept terribly, once again. The nightmares wouldn’t leave me alone. I sigh and start doing my makeup, nothing bright, just some smudged dark eyeshadow and black eyeliner on my waterline. My mom was probably gonna complain again but I don’t care. Last week she told me “People might think you’re gay!” Yeah, sure mom. I mean, why do you think I have all these Heartsteel posters hanging in my room? Because I love their one song so much? But when she says "gay" she means "lesbian". She would have an aneurysm if I tried to explain to her that I’m trans. And then she would probably throw me out. As if she could read my thoughts, I hear her shouting from downstairs “Come down immediately, Hwa! I can hear that you’re up.”

Ugh.

I throw on a black oversized hoodie that matches my skinny jeans (also black) and put my dark juniper green hair in a messy bun before I run downstairs as quick as I can. Better not make mom wait, she’s awful enough as is.

When I enter the kitchen, I almost bump into a large man in a suit that is standing next to my mom.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” I quickly say, getting a death stare from my mom but for once she doesn’t even berate me for swearing. She just looks between me and this dude, who was wearing dark sunglasses (in December!) for some fucking reason.

“Who is this?” I ask after a few moments of awkward silence.

“My name is Mr. Mundo, nice to meet you, Hwa.” His voice fits his impressive stature perfectly.

My mother steps forward and puts her hand on my shoulder, looking at me more seriously than I have ever seen her. “You know that we haven’t had the easiest time since dad lost his job. And since you refuse to work and pay your share, we had no other choice.”

“What do you mean? What choice?” I ask, slowly starting to panic.

“You’ll go with Mr. Mundo, he has a job for you where you’ll work for six months. You’ll get a room and food and the money goes to pay back all the debt you owe us.”

“Debt? What do I owe you?”

“Darling, you've been living and eating here for free for 18 years!”

“This is insane!” I yell at her. “You’re selling me? You are a monster!”

“Selling? It’s just temporary honey, and it’s a decent job, don’t make it sound worse than it is!”

“You can’t do that, I’m an adult, you can’t force me!” At this point I’m full on panicking. This can’t be happening, it should just be another nightmare. But I know it’s real. My nightmares are way different.

“You are right and nobody is forcing you. But think about this, it would give you the perfect opportunity to get some good job experiences while at the same time helping out your family! Also –” she adds “if you don’t take this offer then you’ll have to pack your bags, we can’t pay for you any longer.”

“If you stayed off the booze you could.” I press through my teeth, anger winning over panic.

She just ignores it and tells me “Please Honey, think about it. If you go with Mr. Mundo at least you’ll have a roof and food. We just want what’s best for you! You’ll thank us in a few years, mark my words.” With this she turns around and leaves me alone in the kitchen with this absolute hunk of a man.

“Go pack your stuff, we leave in an hour.” He hands me a big suitcase before sinking down onto the washed-out red leather couch in the living room, turning the TV on, unfazed by all of this as if it was his daily job. Which it probably was.

Still in shock, I go back to my room and just stare at the mirror for a solid minute. I still haven’t processed what just happened but I start throwing my most important stuff into the suitcase. I have a lot of clothes but most of them are from my parents and I hate wearing them. So it’s not too difficult to fit all my favorite pieces into the suitcase, some skinny jeans, flowy tops and hoodies and of course accessories, I can’t leave my choker collection here. Then I go to my bed and from under the mattress I pull my binder. I put it under all the other things so it won’t be visible if my mom checks my suitcase. She would freak out. I gather the rest of the stuff, making sure I have my laptop, makeup and favorite books, and check the time. I still have 15 minutes left but at this point, the quicker I’m gone the better. I grab the heavy suitcase and try to carry it down the stairs. Two steps in I nearly slip and the suitcase crashes onto the step with a loud Thud. Before I’m even up I can hear heavy steps on the stairs.

Mr. Mundo grabs the suitcase without saying a word and carries it down. I awkwardly follow him, hoping my mom is distracted and hasn’t noticed the commotion. For once I seem to be lucky, she’s nowhere to be seen. At the door, Mr. Mundo turns around and asks me “Are you sure that you have everything? You won’t be able to come back here anytime soon.”

“Yeah I’m not planning on doing that anyways. Can we go?” I ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer and just opens the door and walks down the driveway towards the black car with darkened windows that is waiting at the end of it. He puts my suitcase in the back of it with ease and opens the door in the back, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitate for a second, but when I can hear the front door of the house open again, I quickly get in before I can hear whatever my mother wants to tell me. He slams the door behind me and gets into the driver’s seat, which I can’t even see from back here because there’s a divider between the front and the back of the car. Like in a limousine. Or a cop car. It feels more like the latter, like I’m a prisoner.

The car rumbles to life and even though the windows are heavily tinted, I can see the shadows of trees racing past us. Where are we going?

[spaceofentropy]

Brain Weasels! Assemble!

aka: @creepkinginc (hi, Nosho! 💙) tagged me in this thing that @thatoneao3author (hiiii!) concocted, and today the brain is braining the right way, so here we are! With a long long long thing. I made it Gallavich. Maybe if the brain keeps on braining right, tomorrow I'll do another version for another ship, who the heck knows! Not me!

So, the rules (more or less) are:

use this au generator to assign you an au, this fan fiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

The randomizing gods gave me a Hacker(s) AU and (after a couple of nope tropes, because I don't know shit about Regency, sorry, gods!) on New Year's Day soulmates switch bodies for 24 hours and have to try and figure out who the other person is so they can find them when the time is up.

Title: Words within the margin [I'm terrible at titles but make do with music 😎]

Plot: it's after the cut because it's long! 🫣

Mickey as our hacker. He doesn't think the whole soulmate thing will ever happen to him, so he is well beyond plastered when the New Year starts and the switch happens. He wakes up in a cabin somewhere in the fucking woods, not a car, let alone a road or even dirt path, near it. He's in the middle of fucking nowhere. Not happy about it. Oh, and this weirdo doesn't even have a cell phone or computer or anything like that in the cabin! And clearly he doesn't believe in mirrors. All that Mickey has are food, shelter, and books on psychology and mental illness. The best idea of this weirdo's face he gets from the lid of one of the pots in the kitchen: pale, redhead, greenish eyes maybe? Hard to tell from a lid. Great dick. And tall, holy fuck it's weird to be this tall, he keeps on bumping against stuff because he miscalculates spaces and distances.

Meanwhile, Ian does not wake up early and bright in the little cabin where he's taking a well deserved pause from the world and his job as a counsellor. Nope. It's well past midday and he's in a body that's super hangover, in an apartment that looks more like a computer repair shop than anything else. All the devices are password protected, even the couple of cell phones he finds. There are two wallets with two different sets of IDs for two different names. No paper mail or useful documents anywhere that he can find. The more he tries to pinpoint who this guy is from stuff in his house, the less he knows, aside from the fact he likes cheap beer, knives, and videogames.

Mickey spends most of his time in the cabin perusing the books, there are little notes here and there, the guy has a dorky sense of humor that makes him chuckle, but he also sprinkles here and there glimpses of bad experiences with doctors, with meds and treatments and healthcare providers that were not great.

Ian leaves the apartment to look for more clues about, at the very least, where this weirdo lives, but it's even worse, one of the neighbors catches him as he tries to steal someone's mail (it would have been such an easy way to get at least an address!) and he runs, not sure why but he just runs. Wanders an unknown town like many others, no idea where he is. Finds his way back to the building, he has a road name and a number, except there must be so many Washington Streets around... He spends hours looking at the weirdo's stuff, feeling like he's intruding just by being there, every moment less sure of wanting to know this guy. They are soulmates, apparently, but... he feels like he's stepping into a cheap spy story. Perfect stuff to further unbalance the already unsteady situation inside his brain. What if this guy is even crazier than him? There are so many weird thing, in his apartment and potentially his life... 

There's a phonecall to one of the phones, he answers hoping the person at the other end will say something useful, a name, a detail, something, but the girl only calls him fuckface and dickhead. A relative, judging by how, after a while, she gets worried when Ian doesn't answer the way she expected. He's debating whether to tell her that he's a visiting soulmate or not, when midnight strikes and he's thrown back into his body, in the cabin, with one of his books open in his hands and a note in a different handwriting than his in the corner.

Nice refuge you have here, Firecrotch. Bet I still can find you in a week or less. Hope you didn't make a mess at my place. Had no idea what to do with them, so take your meds, dude. M.

It takes Mickey 8 days to come knocking on the door to Ian's cabin, and only because he has to go to an office in person, they do all stuff on paper in Bumfuck County, Wherever It Is Ian's Cabin Is, damn neanderthals!

Less than twenty minutes after meeting him in person for the first time, Ian's doubt about Mickey are relegated to background noise. The universe might be right with this soulmates thing!

Yeah. I think that's it. That's what happens when the brain weasels latch onto an idea they like (and they LOVE soulmates) 🤷‍♀️

I'm supposed to tag people, but honestly I don't know if I have the bandwidth left for it. 🥲 If you read this and want to do it, you're welcome to! ❤️

[kingofkingsschizo]

What do you see for your future and you have schizophrenia. I’m not going to lye your going to have more then bumps in the road. It’s just inherently part of having a mental illness such as schizophrenia. Let me save you you grief. Man, just do what’s best for your health. If your on disability, stay on disability and don’t worry about working and going to school . These two things aren’t out of question for you. I did both for many years . Schizophrenia with its symptoms of hallucinations and delusions is such a debilitating thing. There is no way to stay consistent. Along with hallucinations and delusions there are also problems with sleep, anxiety, depression, etc. you really put a lot on yourself trying to accomplish too much at one time. If you do take the route of school and work just make sure you take it nice and easy. Allowing yourself to always recuperate from a day that will be full of stress. Stress is a big factor in why I couldn’t work. You see stress, triggers my symptoms. Stress related issues can come at you from different Angles . If you have anxiety, it could be stressful working around people all day. A workload from the job can be stressful and wear you thin.  I know with me taking my antipsychotic, it made me sleep long hours. So in order for me to work I had to get up early despite the fact I would be sleep deprived because I needed to sleep 12 hours a day on Risperdal. Lack of sleep is a big factor in well-being and is very critical for having energy and motivation to accomplish daily task. When you have been diagnosed and have jumped through the hoops to get on disability don’t be disappointed with the amount you get because we are lucky here in America to have social net for vulnerable populations. This income from the government can also be used to apply for housing, food benefits like lone star program. You can get a Pell grant to pay for school if you feel you want to attempt higher education. I went to college and I learned a lot despite not being able to work a regular 9 to 5. Never give up is my drive for numerous instances in my life. I would never detour anyone from making an attempt at something they feel is inside them to take on. Been there I was up for the challenge. I did well in school. I take longer to read but I took nice easy at my own pace because I took at least 2 credit hours a semester. I made it . I got the degree. I have it . It’s s piece of paper. Highly valuable to someone who doesn’t have a thing wrong with them that can set there goals on a solid career being they don’t have to have an impairment like schizophrenia. When you place yourself in highly structured stress related situation don’t expect to come out unscathed. You may find school doable and excel but working n your profession after school is a different ballgame. Your not free to move at your own time because you are on someone else’s time. That person is trying to make a profit, minimizing expense and looking to maximize profit. You are very replaceable and fast if you don’t make the cut. Developing different skills that can be applied to selling a services or product is good but better are skills like managing your health, managing your symptoms, managing symptom related issues is all essential for the fore mentioned above. There is not even a possibility of success working or going to school without first knowing how to stay physically and mentally well. Take care of you don’t put extra added pressure on yourself to achieve. Come to grips and understand every nuisance of your mental illness . Feeling good in your house watching t.v. or anything relaxing is better way to spend your days rather then trying to make the elusive American dream work for you. Don’t worry what people think about you not working. Fuck them there not the ones who have schizophrenia. We may appear all together on the outside but we are always fluctuating on the inside. You have nothing to prove to anyone. If you have to prove something for yourself. Do it , attempt it, execute it. But alway make notes what doesn’t work. DEFIANT

[meetmymouth]

cupid’s chokehold

dilf!harry. based on this. i write for FREE so please show some love by REBLOGGING and if you’re up to it, here’s my ko-fi for donations!! happy reading!!

warnings: age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex, degradation, slapping and scratching

It starts with glances here and there, then it turns to soft, barely-there touches whenever he's talking to her. She knows he feels it too, especially when there's those touches– on the back of her hand, or on the small of her back when they're on their feet and walking, they're always there.

With her being close friends with Willow, she saw a lot of Harry, especially during this time of the year– Christmas break.

She loved spending Boxing Day with the Styles's, going on their annual walk around the block and in the forest behind their house, and she appreciated how welcoming they have been each year, despite Willow's grandparents joining last year in which Willow tried to make it less awkward and as enjoyable as possible.

Harry was always nice to her.

Sure, your friends' parents should always be kind to you, but that didn't stop her from having a crush on her friend's hot, single dad. Not to mention, he probably and most likely felt the same–if the look he’s giving her right now is something to go by–.

She sighs, then calls out Willow’s name again. They’re standing at the staircase, waiting for Willow to come down so they can go on a little walk before breakfast.

“Willow,” she says again, frustrated. “Are you coming down or what?”

“I seriously can’t, you guys. I can’t leave the toilet– it’s bad.”

Harry gives her a look, then sighs. “Do you want me to come up?”

“Ew, no, dad– I don’t.”

“Just asking.”

“You can go. I’m sorry guys,” she yells back, making Harry raise his eyebrows.

A worried look washes over his features, and it’s moments like these where she can tell how much he loves and cares for his daughter. Unlike some dads, she can’t help but think.

Harry folds his arms in front of him, making his muscles tighten under his white jumper. “I’m not leaving you when you’re feeling ill, Willow,” he says, brows still furrowed.

Willow disagrees. “I’m fine. Just need to sit here for a while. I’ll be fine– you guys go. Seriously.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “We don’t have to go, Low.”

“I want you to, though. I promise I’m fine.”

Harry clears his throat, then turns to her. He gives her a look– one she can’t quite figure out, and turns to the top of the stairs again.

“Are you sure, Willow?”

“Yes, dad.”

He turns to her again, eyebrows raised. “That okay with you, love?”

“Yes…” she murmurs, heart feeling like it’s going to explode in her chest. “We won’t take long,” she says, hoping Willow has heard her.

“Call me if you need anything, Willow. We won’t be too long, darling.”

“Okay, bye you guys.”

They share a look, and Harry shrugs, walking towards the door where their winter coats are hanging on a hanger. She follows him, and copies him as they both start getting their coats on and he watches with a smile as she gets her scarf on, wrapping it twice around her neck before she moves onto her boots. With a final goodbye to Willow, they leave, and Harry unlocks his Jeep, and they get in.

She connects to the Bluetooth right away, making Harry smile, and they drive in silence for the most part up until they reach the car park where the path leads them towards the forest where they usually walk. Once parked, they get out, and begin walking, both silent as the birds chirp away, and despite it being Boxing Day, the usually crowded forest and the park in the entrance is eerily quiet and deserted. Perhaps they’re just too early.

“Quiet today, isn’t it,” Harry asks, hands in his coat pockets as he tries to make conversation. It makes her smile.

“Mhm. I don’t know why, though. There’s literally no one around.”

“Better this way,” he murmurs, cheeks getting hot as he curses at himself for being so pathetic.

She doesn’t mind it, though.

Instead, she takes a step closer to him whilst still walking, and bumps their shoulders, making them let out a chuckle.

She does it again, and he scoffs, bumping into her harder.

“Stop,” he says, though he doesn’t mean it. He never wants her to stop.

“What’s your favourite album?” She asks, making him perk up at the question.

“Hmm… tough one,” Harry scratches the back of his neck, both of them now closer than before. Their shoulders touch while they walk, and she loves it. “Blue by Joni Mitchell. At the moment, at least. I can’t just pick one, y’know?”

“Right,” she looks down, then back up at him.

He looks good, especially with the early rays of sunshine hitting his perfect face just right, extenuating his sharp features, his jawbone in particular. There’s a bit of stubble on his face, and she thinks his nose is the most attractive nose she’s ever seen. It’s big, so she can’t help the dirty thoughts run free in her mind, thinking of the way his nose would touch her cunt as he ate her out, and the way it would feel against the most private parts of hers.

Harry laughs when she doesn’t answer his question.

“Pardon?”

“Wanna sit here for a moment?” He repeats, nodding at the seating area overlooking the lake.

She nods. They sit.

She looks at his face, then squeezes her legs.

“What’s wrong?”

She raises her eyebrow. “What?”

“You gave me a look– like you were disgusted or summat,” he says, laughing.

“No! I just– it’s nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. “Come on. Tell me.”

She grows hot, her cheeks feeling like they’re on fire, and she shakes her head.

Harry doesn’t let it go.

“Tell me,” he says, smiling.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“It’s… inappropriate,” she lets out, cheeks growing even hotter.

Harry purses his lips, her gaze falling there for a moment before she looks up again.

“Now, you’ve to tell me. I’m nosy as fuck.”

She sighs, then groans into her hands because how is cursing so hot when it comes out of his mouth?

“I can’t tell you,” she mumbles. “You’re my friend’s dad– it’s too inappropriate.”

“Oh come on! I’m a cool dad.”

“I know…”

“Come on, love.”

“I just– I find you really hot,” she lets out very quickly, not sure if he’s even heard the words correctly. “And it’s hard to talk to you sometimes.”

He grins, clearly expecting her answer. “Because you find me hot?”

She groans again, hiding behind her hands. He reaches and takes them in his hands, prying them open as he gives her a smile. “Stop hiding,” he says, thumb stroking the back of her hand. “I know it’s fucked up of me to say what I’m about to say, but I find you hot, too.”

She looks up from the ground, and can’t help but part her mouth at his answer, clearly not expecting him to agree despite hoping and thinking her feelings were reciprocated.

“I feel terrible,” she murmurs, looking down at their hands. “Willow is my friend–”

“–She’s my daughter.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I– let’s act like this never happened.”

He smiles. “What never happened? We didn’t do anything. Yet.”

“Harry…”

He brings his hand to her face, and grabs her by the chin. He brings her face closer to his. “I can’t help it,” he whispers. “And I don’t think I want to.”

With her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she shivers. “What do you want,” she asks, knowing the answer would be a controversial one.

“What do I want?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“I want to fuck you so hard. Right here, right now.”

She whines at the nasty words, her head immediately falling back as he surges forward, and presses their mouths together. His kisses are rough, rougher than she’s ever been kissed before, and she likes it. She gets off on it, the rough touches and his warm, wet mouth working hers as he bites and grazes her lips. He bites her bottom lip, hard, and darts his tongue out more so that it’s in her mouth, and she wraps hers around his as they keep kissing.

He peppers kisses down her mouth, her chin, and when he reaches the end of her neck, he pulls away and looks around, then back at her.

“Can I fuck you,” he says, eyes fiery.

She gasps when he places his hand around her neck under the scarf.

“Here?” She asks, hesitation clear in her voice.

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees,” she looks around. He does, too.

“No one will see. Let me fuck you. Come on,” he whispers, hand applying pressure as he squeezes her neck tighter, making her widen her eyes.

“Okay,” she murmurs, getting up when he does.

He takes off his coat, then reaches for hers, helping her as she takes hers off. His fingers then reach for her zipper on her jeans, and he looks up for an approval. When he gets it, he helps her slide her jeans down, both of them watching as the jeans pool around her ankles, leaving her with her lace knickers only.

“Fuck,” he looks at her barely covered cunt, and brings his hand there, swiping a finger over the fabric. She whines, again. “Y’so fuckin’ hot.”

“Please, hurry up.”

He looks up, determination clear in his eyes. “We need a safe word.”

“Safe word?”

“A word you–”

She reaches for his zipper. “I know what a safe word is!” She helps him get out of his trousers, swallowing when she notices his hard cock in his underwear.

“We need one,” he says again, hand going up to her tits. He squeezes them over her top, feeling them bare. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum just by lookin’ at you.”

“My safe word is red,” she says, as though she’s ever used it before.

“Red works.”

He looks down again, at her clothed pussy, and rubs her cunt over it once more before he hastily turns her around, pulling her back into his front making her gasp at the sudden movement.

“Gonna fuck you and treat you as my little fuck toy, how’s that sound?” He says, more like spits.

She knows he’s testing the waters.

She shakes her head, though it’s at the feeling between her legs. She needs him so fucking bad.

“Fine by me,” she murmurs, leaning her head back against his front. “More,” she whispers, hoping he gets it.

She feels him get rid of his underwear, letting it pool around his ankles, and then she feels his hot, pulsing cock against her ass.

“Yeah,” he murmurs into the back of her neck. He bites, hard, and she hisses, making him smile. “You’re a little slut, aren’t you,” he says, hand coming up between her legs to toy with her pussy. He slides it to the side, and gets between her folds. “So fuckin’ wet, too. Who’s it for?” He swipes a finger across her wetness, groaning when he feels her all warm and wet around his fingers.

She moans, trying to close her legs, though he doesn’t let her. “It’s for you,” she murmurs, looking around to see if there’s people around.

“For Daddy?” He adds another finger, two fingers pumping into her hole as he fucks her faster now with his fingers. He curls them, making her groan into the crisp morning air, and he squeezes her waist with his other hand.

“Fuck,” she says. “Y’like that, then?”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. “Go on,” he says, thumb rubbing her clit as much as he can while still fucking into her with his fingers. She whines. “Who’s it for?”

“For you, Daddy.”

He groans, getting his nails onto her skin as he squeezes, nails creating crescents on her soft flesh as blood rushes into the marks he’s leaving. “God, you’re such a slut,” he murmurs, hand coming up to her neck. He brings her against him by her neck. “Letting your friend’s dad fuck you in a forest. Are you that desperate?”

“Fuck– yes, I am,” she murmurs, voice cracking with the pressure he’s applying on her neck.

“Gonna let me fuck this tight little hole?” He says, slapping her once.

It’s a huge risk, they both know, though she has a feeling he knows.

He knows how crazy she would go over it.

And she does. She whines, and asks for more. She gets more.

“Fuck,” Harry says, slapping her cheek once again. “You’re just a tight little hole. The best one, aren’t you? And you’ll let me slap you around while fuckin’ y’with my fingers, hm?”

She nods, Harry’s hands sliding down to her neck once again. He squeezes.

“Pathetic little slut.”

“More,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “More, Daddy.”

“You get whatever I give you, you slut.”

She lets him bring her closer into him, and she feels him pull the back of her underwear to the side, and she then feels his cock slapping against her asscheek before he slides in.

It’s easy, due to how wet she is, and she doesn’t even stop to care about his bare cock sliding into her cunt. She lets him have it. And he does. He goes animalistic, hips beginning to fuck into her like there’s no tomorrw, balls slapping against her cunt with each thrust. He’s big, and it feels so good, his warm cock in her tight, wet cunt.

He thrusts deep and hard, and suddenly, he brings one hand across her body and gets it under her jumper, reaching her bare tits. He squeezes once, tweaking the hard nipple between his thumb and index finger before he scratches the skin there, clearly wanting to leave marks. It’s unfamiliar, the feeling, and it hurts. It hurts, and she feels it sting afterwards, so she hisses when she feels him go at it once more, squeezing until he gets his fingernails under her skin, then proceeds to scratch before letting go with a slap.

“Harry,” she groans, the stinging feeling beginning to become pleasurable.

“I so want you all to myself,” he murmurs, bringing his face in the back of her neck so his lips touch her sweaty neck. “Use you whenever and wherever I want– fuck you hard all the time, fill you up with m’cum like the cum slut you are,” he whispers into her ear, making her groan at the nasty images in her mind.

“Fuck, yeah.”

“You’d love that,” he says, hips picking up their speed. He fucks her hard, and fast, like he’s in a hurry, and his cock hits that one spot where it feels incredible, making her whine uncontrollably as she tries to back into him. “Want to see my cum spilling down your legs,” he says. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she murmurs. “I’m your slut.”

“Fuck yeah, you are. You’re my little slut. My whore. Look how wet and desperate you are to get Daddy’s cock in that stupid little hole of yours.”

He speeds up, if that were possible, and she feels that familiar feeling at the pit of her stomach, the tips of her fingers, and her scalp– everywhere. He brings her hands behind her and holds them there while he fucks into her hard, and watches as his cock disappears into her wet hole.

“Fuck,” he shouts, making her look around, still worried. “Gonna cum,” he murmurs into her neck, squeezing her wrists.

“Pull out.”

“I will.”

He pulls out just in time, pumping his cock and he comes on her ass, watching as some of it lands on the backs of her thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispers, still watching her perfect skin painted with his cum. “Look so hot.”

“God,” she laughs, stroking her wrist. “You’re a freak,” she says, reaching down to get her jeans back on. She turns around, and watches as he smiles down at her.

“Was that too much?” He says, gaze worried compared to his playful one a minute ago. “Did I hurt you?”

She smiles, and lifts up her jumper, showing the scratch marks on her skin. “I liked it,” she says despite the look Harry’s giving her. “I fucking loved it.”

[goldencherryhazz]

As It Was

An: so in Harry’s interview with Greg James he said that he set up a studio in his friends living room and that’s basically where he wrote As It Was (I’m pretty sure anyway) so be prepared for friends to lovers! Not proofread obvs! Hope you enjoy, feedback would be much appreciated <3

It wasn’t unusual for Harry to just rock up at your house, you live not too far outside of London in the countryside so it was easy for Harry to drive to yours, except this time when he pulled into your driveway he seemed to have a lot of luggage.

‘Ello, love’ he jeers as he gets out of his car.

‘Hi, H what’s with all the stuff’ you smirk, standing infront of him in your slippers and dressing gown, a cup of tea in your hands.

‘Erm, well I was only planning on bringing a few bits but then realised that I would need quite a lot because I might stay here for a bit if that’s okay with you’ he stands scratching his head trying to keep his curls away from his face in the wind.

‘Of course it is darlin’, you know that your are always welcome here, everything okay?’ you ask.

‘I think so I just wanted to escape London and all the chaos for a bit, and spend some time with you’ and you can’t stop the butterflies that flutter in your tummy.

You walk over to him setting your mug on the roof of his car before your wrap your arms around his tall figure and he replicates your actions instantly ‘you know if there’s anything you need to talk about im all ears okay’ you whisper in to him from the warmth of his neck. He doesn’t reply but instead squeezes you even tighter finding comfort in the soft fuzz of your dressing gown pressing against his cheeks, you don’t push him any further knowing he would talk to your when he needed to.

‘Let’s go inside yeah, get a cup of tea, can get your stuff inside in a mo’ he silently agrees putting an arm over your shoulder before leading you both inside.

Over the past 7 years that you had known Harry you could practically always pinpoint the cause for his emotions, but today you simply couldn’t, he wasn’t upset necessarily, he just wasn’t himself, which wasn’t too irregular for you to witness but it doesn’t mean it didn’t made you feel ill knowing that there could be something wrong, you just wanted to help him the best you could just like you had both done over the last 6 years of being best friends, god the amount of break ups, stress, anxiety, loss, upset, and general shit that you had both helped each other through was proof that you could both come to each other for help and comfort no matter what the problem was, and that is what Harry had done but you knew the true way he could get past this block is by writing music, because he could properly encase his emotions in melodies and lyrics, he had told you before that it was very therapeutic and a stress relief for him so you were going to let him do just that, in your…. Living room.

——————

‘You sure it’s okay if I set up in here’

‘I mean it it the biggest room in the house and for the amount of stuff you’ve bought, I don’t think it would fit anywhere else’ you laugh.

I’m sorry, honestly didn’t think it would be that much’ he shakes his head.

‘Don’t apologise, c’mon let’s get to it.’ You skip past him.

After about 20 minutes you and Harry had managed to manoeuvre all of the equipment into a pile in the living room ‘how do you know how all of this goes together’ you ask confusedly.

‘I’m honestly not sure, should make instructions for these things honestly’ he grabs some wires and a speaker beginning to fit this massive puzzle together.

It takes a couple of hours to set everything up and after a lot of Harry saying ‘bloody hell this wires not long enough’ and ‘ouch’ when he bumped into something being the clumsy giant he is, you try to help as much as you can but have to stop out of pure laughter at his antics.

‘Think it looks much better as a studio instead of a living room, y’know’ he marvels at the newfound makeshift sound booth, speaker and computers dotted around the room and many wires on the floor which you had to be careful to not get caught up in, because it would result in an injury of some form.

‘I think your right, would be even better if you could see the the tv properly’ you try to peak over the foam of the sound booth dramatically to prove your point.

‘You can, your just really short love, like a while foot shorter than me’ he emphasised his point by resting his arm on your shoulder.

Hey, I’m not short your just ridiculously….tall’ you cringe internally at the weak comeback, and he laughs at the pout spread on your lips, his eyes lingering on them for a moment too long.

‘I say we should get take out for dinner what do you think’

‘I think that’s a perfect idea my love, s’getting late anyway and I can’t really be arsed to cook.’

You smile at the nick name, turning away to go get the menus from the messy draw, hoping he didn’t see the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

——————

You settle for an Indian, after about 20 minutes deciding and getting annoyed at each other because of the constant mind changing ‘just choose one for godsakes’ he says and you don’t know weather he’s angry, hungry or both.

You had both finished your food and had opted to finish the evening with a rom- com.

‘Wanna cuddle darling’ you ask situating yourself for his expecting arrival, of course he agrees, he always has, the question being a normal one between the two of you, and you know not many friends do this but it seemed so natural, and what was wrong with cuddling your best friend anyway. Harry scooches from his spot on the other end of the sofa wrapping an arm around your waist so that you would lay down with him, you giggle as the impact and Harry swears he’s never heard anything more pretty than your sweet laugh, he nuzzled his face into you neck the delicious smell of your body wash invading his senses, he sighed dreamily as your fingers comb through his locks, and you smile knowing how much he loved it when you did it.

Before he’s knows it he drifts off to sleep in your hold, you know without even looking at his face because of the way his breathing had slowed resulting in light puffs of air coming from his nose and the small mumbles of random names or objects coming from his lips being the sleep talker that he is, all of this and you weren’t even 20 minutes into the film.

——————

You end up falling asleep with him but startle awake when the overly load ending credit music graces the room.

‘Uhgg what time is it’ you groan out, yawning in the process.

‘H, we gotta go to bed, it’s late darlin’ you try and shuffle but his grip around your waist gets tighter signalling to you the he was indeed awake.

‘H,stop pretending to be asleep’ you try and shuffle away from him.

‘Nope, too comfy’ he protests and scoots his head down to rest in your stomach.

‘H I’m sleepy, won’t be comfy both sleeping on here anyway’

‘Fine’ he says in fake annoyance lifting his head, a pout on his face and his curls all disheveled, tries to wipe the sleep out of his tired eyes.

You both make your way upstairs, each taking your turns in the bathroom to do your nightly routines and you half expect Harry to bid his good nights and go into the spare room, but when he stands at the entrance to your bedroom fumbling his feet like and little boy you know what he’s silently requesting.

‘C’mon then, shut the door behind you, draft gets in otherwise’ and with that he smiles and dashes to the non occupied side of the bed quickly getting under the warm covers.

You both shuffle closer together, you resting your head on his broad shoulder, ‘goodnight H’ you whisper closing your eyes.

‘Night y/n, and thankyou’ he whispers into the pitch black room.

‘What for’ you question confusedly.

‘For being you’ he says smiling, confusion settles in your bones but you don’t have the energy to question his statement, and he didn’t want you to either, feeling quite content with his words he presses a kiss to the side of your head, falling asleep for the second time that night.

~1:32 am~

Harry had been trying to get himself to fall asleep for hours now but simply couldn’t. His thoughts were whirling in his head and he needed a release from them and the only way he knew how way was through music. It take him a couple of minutes before he unwraps his arms from around your sleeping figure basking in the warmth of you for a little longer before he carefully manoeuvres to get out the bed without disturbing you his skin chilling under the cool nights air.

He finds a dressing gown on the back of the bedroom door that he had probably left at your house one of the many other times he’d stayed and then completely forgot about. He slips it over his shoulders loving the soft fuzz that instantly heated him back up again, but he suddenly pauses and brings his sleeves arm to smell, not trusting his senses that much this early in the morning, but he finds that his thought were indeed correct. The fabric smelt just like the mixture of your body wash and perfume, the smell too powerful to have to just be hung on the back of you door and that’s when he realises that you had probably been wearing his dressing gown. He could just imagine you on cold morning wrapped in the gown or you putting it on straight after a shower to stay warm, the feeling has a smile spreading on his face as he looks at your sleeping figure snuggling further into the pillow, your hand patting around the area where Harry once was in your unconscious state before slowly giving up and settling to sleep once again. 

He finds himself staring at you for a lot longer than friends should have done, finding himself shuffling a certain feeling back down into his heart.

He makes his way down the stairs, treading carefully to avoid any creaks sitting on a stool in his diy studio and as he looks around he makes the conclusion they he preferred your living room to be a studio, it felt like a place that he could properly pour his heart out.

At the moment he felt a bit trapped, by paparazzi and the media making assumptions that weren’t true and people just generally using him and not treating him as a human being, people would argue that he should be used to it after being in the industry for 12 years but all Harry wanted was to be treated like a normal human being, don’t get him wrong he loved his fans because without them he would be nowhere and he had obviously met nice people who treated him normally, but being in your home for the past day has brought him more comfort than he had felt in months, he felt like he was in control when he was in this little world, being around you was the one thing he really needed because you never failed to treat him like an actual human being, you were one of the few that didn’t look at him for his fame but instead just saw him as Harry. He loved you for that, a love so strong almost too powerful for a friend to have.

He is distracted from the storm in his brain when a sudden thought makes it’s way into his head ‘in this world…it’s just us’ he sang in a slow hushed voice, sounding quite melancholy.

He sat there content with what he had just sung, the cogs in his mind turning as he thought what the next lyric would be.

—————————-

The opposite side of the bed is cold when you wake up, you pat the area down where Harry was once laid before coming to the conclusion that he had probably gone downstairs already, you get up wanting to check that Harry was okay because you didn’t like that he was a bit closed off yesterday, you knew he struggled with the way the world treated him sometimes and that it just all got a bit to much but that didn’t make it any easier not seeing him as his usual open and happy self.

You make your way down the stairs, frowning when you don’t find him in the kitchen but instead slouched over uncomfortably over the little desk he had set up in his make shift studio. You have to admit that he looked ridiculously cute, his face to the side and you can hear the light puffs of air coming from his nose, his face slightly squished against the surface of the table, making a pout spread over his lips. You walk over, crouching down so that you are level with his face ‘H, need to wake up’ he stirs at the sound of your voice and he groans out in pain and you can’t help but feel bad for his poor back that must have been aching from sleeping in the position he had been.

‘What time is it?’ He mumbles.

‘Nearly 8’ you say as you stroke a hand through his curls.

‘What are you doing down here sweet?’ You ask him softly as he was still half asleep.

‘Just couldn’t get to sleep, I had to write something’ he explained.

‘That’s okay H, can always take a nap if you need to’

‘I want you to listen to the bits I already have written up, haven’t done much with it yet’ he says suddenly perking up a little at the thought.

‘Okay’ you agree immediately, you see a change in him and even though his body is tired and achy, the eager glint in his eye is a sign that he was starting to feel happier than he did yesterday. Almond st as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He opens his phone going straight to voice memos, opening the first one he sees, he turns the volume all the way up and places his phone back on the table leaning back waiting for it to start.

‘In this world, it's just us’

‘You know it's not the same as it was’

‘In this world, it's just us’

‘You know it's not the same as it was’

‘As it was, as it was’

‘You know it's not the same’

His soft voice cuts off, and he plays another voice memo of a verse for that was in its beginning stages before he turns to you.

‘It’s beautiful H, do you like it? You ask him, you couldn’t believe that he could just create something like that in the space of your living room.

‘I do, think I’m going to make it a little more upbeat with the tempo though but I’m not sure’

‘Well whatever you decide to do with it I will love it either way, I’m sure of it’

‘Thankyou y/n’ he says sincerely.

‘That’s okay darling’ and he loves the pet name falling from your lips.

‘What’s it about H, if you don’t mind me asking’

‘You’ he says bluntly and it takes you back a bit, the fact that he could have written a song about anything and he chose you. You don’t have any words but he would have cut you off if you were to say anything at that moment.

‘I wrote that about you and the feeling your home gives me, I feel safe here, like nothing in the world can bother me, and I like that feeling, feeling normal, you are one of the very few people who can give me that’ he finishes and he goes and he looks away bashfully at his admittance.

‘Oh H, come here you’re going to make me cry’ and you genuinely feel tears building at your waterline. You go back over to hug him and he immediately mirrors your actions, he wraps his arms around your middle tightly, nuzzling his face into your neck.

‘You really mean that’ you ask

‘Of course I do’ he mumbles from the confines of your neck.

Can I tell you something

Go ahead love

‘I think I realised today that a home isn’t a house or a place, home is the people you love. Never felt more at home than when I’m with you.’

You love me? He turns to face you

Of course I do’ you dont realise the deepness of your confession, you and Harry had obviously always been friendly and had constantly told the other that they love each other but you hadn’t taken it this seriously until now.

Harry doesn’t respond to you, instead he hooks a finger under you chin angling your face towards his,

‘H’ you whisper in the now small space between you

‘I’ve always loved you, but I think I properly fell a couple years back, kept distracting myself with work and trying to date other people, I’m such a fucking idiot, should have come to my senses a long time ago

‘Your not the only idiot H’

‘Need to kiss you, can i?’ He’s desperate now as his lips are barely inches away from yours, he swears your lips are like magnets that are constantly dragging him towards you, but before he does anything he needs to know that you want this

‘Yes please’ you consent and he gives a sigh of relief not realising that he was holding his breath in anticipation, he cups your jaw and you lean closer towards him he brushes you noses together teasingly before finally crashing his lips to yours and its like everything in the world didn’t matter as you were in you living room kissing the man of your dreams finally. His lips feels plushy and soft and you can’t resist tracing your lips over his prominent cupids bow before kissing him properly. One of his hands migrate you your hips to pull you closer to him, but when that isn’t enough he pulls you down with him onto the adjacent sofa, a muffle squeal makes it’s way out of your mouth making Harry smile into the kiss.

‘Been waiting soo long for this angel’ he mumbles breathlessly and you swear you wanted him to call you angel for the rest of your life. Your hands venture from his neck and up to tangle in his unruly curls. You press a few more pecks to his lips before you pull away because you didn’t particularly want to faint from lack of oxygen.

‘Im not going anywhere, promise’ you respond breathlessly. You don’t miss the beaming smile on his face ‘I really love you’ he whispers into the space between you making you melt all over again.

‘I really love you too’ you say looking at him in adoration and he can’t help but press a kiss to your lips once again.

You end up sitting there admiring each other for a good few minutes before Harry’s head flops down to your shoulder, making you loop your arms around his neck. ‘You sleepy H’ you ask.

‘A little, the last time i checked the time it was about 3:30 in the morning when I was still writing’

‘How does a cuddle and a nap sound?’

‘Sounds fucking amazing’ Harry flops you both to lay down and you can help but let out small giggles.

You can’t help but think how lucky and happy you were to have yourself and Harry wrapped up in your own little world, truly realising that there was no where else you would rather be.

[purplekiwis]

OMG YES! Damaged goods blurb! Can you do a fluff one where one of them is sick with seasonal flu and the other has to take care of them, but they're being stubborn about it because that's just what they do and how they are 🤧

Okay, okay... here she is! It's a bit meh I think, but I hope you like it! 🥰

*

Harry is sick and grumpy, and Y/N takes care of him (from the Damaged Goods AU)

Harry feels miserable.

He’s worse than miserable, really,

because he has a cold… or is it the flu?! He has never known to spot the differences between the two, but he recognized all of the early signs, of course...

As per usual, it started with nothing but a sore throat one morning when he woke up, that ended up lingering throughout the whole day, then came a headache, and the tiredness, and the chills…

It wasn’t so unbearable at first… but the symptoms only kept getting worse and worse as the hours went by, to the point of leaving him with no choice but to skip his classes in favor of staying in bed… suffering.

The worst part about it? He wasn’t even suffering at home – where his mom could be taking her lips to his forehead every so often to see if he had a fever, and bringing him bowls of soup and fruit cubes on that same familiar bedtray that had accompanied him throughout all his periods of sickness.

Mom would also be making sure he stayed hydrated and took his medicine in time... which by the way, he wasn’t taking any. Logically speaking, Harry knew he should have gone to a pharmacy by now, to get something to make him feel better, but how? When he couldn't even muster the will to get up and go downstairs to fill the empty water bottle perched on his nightstand.

He couldn’t move.

Every single inch of his body hurt.

And now he was starting to get shivery under his bedclothes... for fucks sake.

If only he had Pepper, his spaniel mutt puppy, around to snuggle and keep his body cozy and warm like a hot water bag... then perhaps Harry would've been in a better mood. Yeah, definitely. Pepper would've let him bury his snotty face into its soft fur, and not even think to complain if its owner left a puddle of guck all over said fur.

But well, Pepper isn't there.

And being sick sucks.

Especially because Harry really wants some cuddles... and it hasn't been helping his case whatsoever that in this trying day of illness, his mind has done nothing but think of Y/N.

Pondering over what outfit she must have worn that day and what she might be up to while he’s laying there on his deathbed. He also wonders if she has noticed his absence, and if so… if she’s worried about him.

He huffs once he checks his phone again and realizes there are still no messages from her. She doesn’t have to check on him. He knows that, but he can't help that he likes to be cared for sometimes… and as it turns out illness has a tendency to turn him into a big, needy baby... who really wants to have Y/N taking care of him. It would be so good. She could play with his hair the way he likes, give him forehead kisses, hold his hand…

Harry sighs out loud. Her company would be even better than Pepper's, he believes... although Harry isn't so sure Y/N would enjoy having his snot on her as much as his trusty pup would, but that’s beside the point.

It’s even more beside the point because he knows she's not coming to see him.

She’s mad at him, he recalls now. Stupidly so, if he's allowed to think that - he did nothing wrong, after all. She asked him for a “brutally honest opinion” on a design work she was doing for one of her classes, and he simply gave her what she asked for, plain as that. But of course, then she didn’t like what he had to say and got sulky. Just girls being girls, he guesses…

Harry should've known better than to think that would stop her from coming to see him, though. His girl was a little box of surprises, after all... a true master in the art of keeping him on his toes.

She showed up only half an hour after she was done with her classes... softly knocking on his door before poking her head inside with a smile, only for her jaw to drop in shock at the absolute misery that oozed from his pores.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked sickly, almost comically. Harry could have laughed at it if he wasn't so utterly lethargic. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think?” The girl huffed, shutting the bedroom door behind her and heading towards the end of the bed to get a good look at him, hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Here I was, going about my day thinking you had slept in for being a bum, only to find out through your friends that you were unwell.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his downright amusement at her worried state. Y/N was worried about him? Well then, perhaps her irritation had passed and she had forgiven him… which meant maybe he’d get to have those cuddles he wanted so bad. “I thought you were mad at me?” He poked, eyebrows arching teasingly the best they could with the little energy the muscles on his face could muster.

“Well, I was and am now even more.” She punctuated. “But I still care, obviously. How am I supposed to leave you by yourself when you look like that?” She put down the bag she was holding at the edge of the bed and kneeled next to it on the floor.

“Look like what?” He frowned again. “All snotty and gross?”

“Precisely… and an awful lot like Rudolph the reindeer as well.” Y/N added, with a soft pat to the tip of his swollen, red nose.

Harry smiled at that, right before his eyes fell on the bag over his bed. “Did you go to the store to get those creepy sheet masks you wanted?”

“Huh?” She muttured confused, before noticing where he was looking at. “Oh no, um… these are just some things I got for you. Just vitamins and those gummies for when you have a sore throat, and also uh…” Y/N's cheeks went a little hot. “I got some chicken soup from the buffet restaurant as well, you know… the one next to the drug store. I thought it might do you good…”

“You went to get all that stuff for me?” Harry asked, Y/N hummed happily in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with tenderness. “Y/N... you shouldn't have. That shit is so expensive, and I'm fine, really. It's just a cold. You dont have to worry, let alone take care of me.”

“No offence, but I think I do.” The girl challenged his statement, picking up the halfway used toilet paper roll placed on his nightstand. “For a start, you shouldn’t even be using this to blow your nose. It’ll only irritate your skin and make it more sore.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s such a mum thing to say…” He grumbled in attempt to mask the fact that the secret big, needy baby in him was loving every single bit of the mom talk, and the same applies to when Y/N clicked her tongue chastisingly once he stubbornly snatched the roll off her hand and pulled out some more paper.

She took the chance that he had moved his arm to move a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his pillow. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” She asked, lovingly running her digits through his unwashed curls. They felt a little waxy and knotty in her hands, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. She just wanted to make him feel better in any way she could. So she kept playing with his hair, scratching at the roots and combing her fingers through his strands just the way she knew he reveled in - only breaking contact once she was almost certain that he had fallen asleep on her... However, as soon as Y/N began to pull her hand away to check her phone, Harry let out a whine and bumped his forehead against her wrist, in a silent request for her to keep going. “You're such a baby sometimes…” Y/N whispered, proceeding to fulfill his wish.

“Mhm... your baby.” He sighed happily.

Y/N smiled to herself at the state of pure bliss Harry was in. So utterly distracted by the slow puffy nature of his breaths, that she almost didnt notice that his droopy eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. He cleared his throat painfully. “Y/N... can I have one of those gummies you got? My throat hurts and I really want to try one.”

Y/N let out a tiny chuckle at the pleading tone he'd used, nodding as she got up to grab the bottle from the bag. She threw it at him playfully to catch midair, knowing that his reflexes were outstanding. “Ohh these seem nice. I love lemon and honey flavored shit.” He told her whilst inspecting the label.

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help but to grin, feeling quite proud of herself for picking the right flavor. But her smile quickly melted into an expression of concern once she watched Harry crack open the bottle and carelessly throw a bunch of gummies into his mouth. “Harry! What are you- that’s not candy! You can’t eat them by the handful!”

“Oi, chill out… it’s just gummies. What wrong could it do?” He asked as he blithely chewed them. Words coming out garbled since he was speaking in between a mouthful.

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps there could be anesthetics in them... but who knows? It was just a thought.” Y/N ironized.

“Really?” He made a wry face similar to hers, inspecting the label closer. “Do you think we can get high on this shit?” He smirked, still chewing as he rolled the container around to check the ingredients in the back. “Cause I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a pretty good afternoon plan to me...” He half joked, cracking the bottle open again and dropping a couple more gummies in his palm.

Y/N heaved at the suggestion. “I think it’s more likely that you get a terrible bellyache, and we end up in the ER...”

“You really think so?” Harry asked teasingly, taking another gummy to his mouth.

“Okay, that's enough. Give me that.” Y/N demanded, pushing for him to pass the container, but all he did was shake his head with a mischievous, defiant smirk. The girl rolled her eyes at him. “You know what? Fine.” She shrugged. “Eat as many as you want. Can't wait to watch you shit the bed once those anesthetics give you a loose bottom.”

He chuckled at the warning, amused. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you come get them from me?” He questioned, but before he could prepare himself Y/N jumped on the bed to try and take the bottle away from his hands, what forced him to abruptly sit up and hold it over his head just so she couldn’t reach it from where she sat. “That was... real cute. Is that all you got, hm?”

Y/N huffed and crawled over his legs until she was practically on his lap. Seeing right through his facade once he happily handed off the gummies without putting up a fight and wrapped his arms around her middle to pull her in for a hug instead. “You must think you're so sly, don't you?” She mumbled in question, going back to petting his hair. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve just said so… I don't mind your germs.”

“I was trying to behave to avoid getting you sick, actually…”

“Yeah right...” Y/N grumbled, dropping her head on his shoulder for a moment. “But I guess, since you've already passed me the germs and all... might as well just give me a kiss, no?” She proposed shyly, waiting for Harry to make the move. He did, pulling away slightly and placing his lips in hers softly. “Mm, more.” She pouted.

“Greedy.” He joshed, pecking the girl's lips again, and again... and once more for good measure. The damage was already done, after all... they might as well just keep doing it. “I feel disgusting, though. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve at least taken a shower and brushed my teeth. Can’t believe you still want to kiss me when I am like this.”

Y/N scratched at the frizzy hairs of his nape. “I promise you don't smell or look nearly as bad as you think you do… and you taste like lemon and honey so, that’s nice.” Harry distrustfully scrunched up his nose at her allegation, sniffing up some in the process before his digits rushed to grab some more toilet paper. He took it to his nose, blowing noisily. “Alright, snotty boy…” Y/N laughed, swiftly crawling off his lap. “How about I go downstairs to plate up our soup while you pick a movie for us to watch as we eat? It can be one of those “guy movies” and all, I promise I won't complain... today only, cause I'm giving you privilege for being sick.”

His eyes strayed towards you with interest, the lower half of his face still covered behind the poorly ripped toilet paper sheets. “I was actually thinking more like a musical or a pixar movie, maybe?”

“God, Harry.” Y/N gasped in awe. “I swear I've never felt more attracted to you in my life. Snot and everything.”

[wandering-soul-1993]

This story comes with a ⚠️ MASSIVE trigger warning ⚠️ for child illness. I dealt with one of the most traumatic experiences of my life this week that resulted in the death of a baby. Writing is how I cope and how I process. This is rough, and I probably missed a lot in editing, but I gave it a happy ending. This story is how I wish things would have ended. Also, I chose Armand for this one because (correct me if I'm wrong) I think there's a scene in Devil's Minion of him giving money to trick-or-treaters; I thought he'd be a good fit. I don't mean to offend; I don't mean to hurt anyone. I'm simply trying to understand.

------

RELIEF

At first he thought the crying was coming from inside his mind, though why he would imagine an infant’s cry, he had no idea. Armand stopped in his tracks; Daniel kept walking, only realizing he was alone when he reached the corner. When Daniel turned back, he saw Armand staring up at the whitewashed façade of the hospital. The red EMERGENCY sign lighting up almost an entire parking lot and spilling out into the street.

“What are you doing?” Daniel asked, coming back to stand next to his maker.

“Don’t you hear it, Daniel?” Armand asked softly.

“Hear what?"

“The crying.”

Daniel turned his attention to the automatic doors constantly sliding open and shut. “I hear a lot of crying; it’s a hospital.”

Armand shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “It’s a baby.”

Daniel cocked his head. “Yeah…” he answered, unsure of what was happening. “I hear a lot of babies crying. They’re born here, you know.”

Armand turned his large brown eyes to his minion. “I’m not talking about those babies, Danny. I’m talking about one in particular.”

Daniel sighed. “Well, you’re going to have to point them out for me, because I hear an entire nursey of squalling little offspring.” He crossed his arms.

“Very well,” Armand agreed, and rushed inside the emergency department.

Daniel didn’t have any time at all to make any attempts to persuade him otherwise. Even as a vampire, he almost had to break into a run to keep up with Armand’s lightening speed. They were moving too fast to be seen, Armand effortlessly dodging and weaving between patients, doctors, and visitors while poor Daniel was left dancing some kind of uncoordinated ballet to keep from bumping into anyone.

When they reached the elevators Armand paused long enough to smash the up arrow, leaving Daniel to jump between the closing doors. “Where the hell are we going?” he demanded, slumping against the wall.

“You said you wanted me to point the baby out,” Armand told him. “That’s what I’m doing.”

The fourth floor was painted some of the brightest colors Daniel had ever seen. Blues, greens, reds and yellows created a surprisingly comforting atmosphere while recognizable cartoon characters waved and pointed visitors towards the patient rooms. They past the Hundred Acre Woods, Micky Mouse’s Clubhouse and the island where the wild things are on their way towards this mysterious crying that Daniel still hadn’t heard. He knew better than to say anything, though. Armand was beyond determined to show Daniel this child, though what Armand would do next, he wasn’t sure.

He stopped so suddenly that Daniel nearly ran into him. The door had the most uninviting clown taped to it, but damn it they tried their best. Armand pushed the door open slowly, making sure the hinges didn’t creak.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Daniel asked, looking up and down the hall.

Armand didn’t answer, only stepped completely inside the room. Every monitor known to man must have been hanging on the wall, each with it’s own individual line that connected to a tiny body lying motionless in a hospital crib. The poor thing couldn’t have been a year old, at best, and her breathing came in shallow, hurried gasps. The heart monitor was either racing or plummeting. Across the room, curled up on the small, brick-hard couch, were two adults Daniel assumed were the girl’s parents. They stirred in their unrestful sleep, clinging to each other desperately.

Armand approached the crib and stared down at the pink swaddled bundle for a long time. Daniel stepped closer as well. The top of her head was wrapped entirely in bandages, iodine stains visible through the hair. Her blue eyes hung half-opened and lusterless. Daniel realized that she really wasn’t breathing on her own, a machine was doing that for her; it seemed like these machines were doing more for her than she was on her own.

The pain in the room was palpable, the stress tangible. Daniel’s Mind Gift wasn’t entirely developed yet, but he was able to surmise from the parents’ dreams that this was an accident; a horrible and unfair accident—one that only God himself could orchestrate and execute—had left this poor little human in the state she was in.

Daniel glanced back at the sleeping parents. “What happened?” he asked, but Armand only shrugged. “What are you going to do?” He wasn’t sure if he’d get an answer for that either.

He didn’t answer in words. Instead Armand pushed the blanket down, away from the baby’s face, exposing a chest full of sticky monitor pads and wires, the little lungs blowing up and deflating mechanically. Armand brushed the baby’s cheek and she twitched. “It’s alright, little one,” Daniel heard him say. “I’m going to help you.”

“You’re going to what?”

Armand didn’t look up at Daniel, but somehow he knew Armand’s expression was telling him to shut up. He stepped back from the crib and the other vampire, keeping an eye on the parents who were beginning to stir. Whatever Armand was going to do, he better do it fast. Daniel turned back to the crib in just enough time to see Armand prick his thumb on one of his fangs. Daniel gasped and covered his mouth. “Are you seriously doing what I think you’re doing?!”

“Just a drop or two,” Armand said without looking up. “She’s only a baby.”

“Are you crazy?” Daniel was beginning to panic. Who in their right mind—vampiric or otherwise—would give a child this dark blood? Armand of all people should know how that scenario ends.

Armand pushed the intubation tube out of the way slightly, making just enough room for his thumb to swipe against the baby’s tongue. She swallowed and almost instantly began to cough. Daniel gripped his hair with both hands, threatening to rip it out. They’d killed her; they’d killed this baby and they were going to be caught and experimented on and that was the end of it. Armand, calm as ever, simply stepped back and took Daniel’s hand. Together they watched as one monitor after another stopped blinking; all of them stopped beeping. The heart monitor steadied itself and the oxygen intake number began to rise. The baby, however, was still coughing profusely.

“I don’t think she can breathe on her own with that tube in,” Daniel said, though it was only a guess based on something he’d seen on one of those doctor shows. Armand looked up at him for the first time that night in alarm, his eyes begging for Daniel to fix the situation. At first, Daniel wasn’t sure what to do, but then his eyes fell on the bright red call button on the wall. He pushed it and immediately a light out in the hall above the door began to flash. “We need to get out of here; I just called for medical staff.”

They had just enough time to slip out as two nurses came flying into the room. Daniel and Armand stayed pressed against the darkened wall, listening to the commotion. The parents were awake now, and they were demanding to know what was going on with their daughter.

“I—I don’t understand it. She wasn’t going to last the night,” one of the nurses was saying. The mother began to cry hysterically. “No,” the nurse continued. “That’s what’s so amazing. She’s stable now. Go get the doctor; he’ll want to see this.”

They watched the second nurse disappear around the corner only to return minutes later with a tall, dark-skinned man. “What do you mean she’s stable?” he was asking as they ran.

“Her numbers,” the nurse panted. “I can’t believe it.”

Daniel leaned closer to the door trying to catch bits and pieces of the muffled conversation. It was a miracle, one of the nurses said. It couldn’t be explained by medical science. The baby wasn’t meant to see the sunrise, she was that far gone. In the next moment they heard the little girl’s crying as the tube was removed from her throat, followed by the harrowing sobs of relief from both her mother and father. The medical staff stepped out, telling the family they would be back to make sure the baby’s vitals were still good and her stats were holding. Each of them, Daniel saw, was just as dumbfounded as the next.

“You knew that would help, didn’t you?” Daniel whispered. Armand only smiled. “You know that was a good thing you did. Maybe you’re not such a devil after all.”

Armand chuckled. “I’ll always be a devil, sweet Danny, but only to those who want me to be.”