#i am so sick and delirious right now

[tone-chan]

what if we just taught Eido that throwing up the middle finger is a greeting in The Last City

[lighthouseas]

.

[politemagic]

SLASHER III MY BELOVED

Slasher iii

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I request BootHill and Argenti with a crush who’s reckless and accidentally confessed due to a particularly bad injury?

Crush doesn’t care for getting injured at all and always brushes off their concerns when they get injured but one day they just get rlly badly hurt and when they try to do the usual

“I’m okay”

It just kinda snaps in the boys?

(Sorry if this is too much)

Boothill

‘You fudging idiot!’ Boothill screamed when he saw the massive gash on your side. ‘You’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt again!’

‘I’m okay.’ You said as casually as you could while trying not to wince as Boothill began to put pressure on your wound to prevent it from bleeding out further. The gash fucking killed but you weren’t about to let him know how much it hurt, you refused to as you’ve dealt with far worse.

You haven’t, actually, that was a fucking lie to begin with.

‘I’m okay’ they say.’ Boothill scoffs, ‘yeah right, you’ve only gone and done it now! For fork’s sake would it kill you to actually act like you want to fudging live for once?!’

He knew you were a reckless spirit for the moment you first met, you were someone who didn’t care how many scars would litter your skin, only caring about finishing the mission no matter how debilitating the pain was. At first he didn’t care to know your name nor your reasoning as to why you act the way you did, but when he started to feel something for you, that’s when he began to worry himself sick over you.

Boothill genuinely wondered whether or not you cared that you lived after each and every suicide mission, you couldn’t be mended or rebuilt like he could, you weren’t invincible as you’d like to this you were and Boothill could only hope that today served as a reminder of that.

Boothill didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t bare it as he’s already lost his friends, family and his darling Arabella who’s smile so wide you could see the her gap tooth on full display. Arabella was just learning to walk when she was taken from him along with everyone else who meant everything to him; Revenge was his only motive and loosing you would only make him surrender to it a hell of lot faster.

‘If all you’re going to do is shout about how stupid I am then you can fuck off and leave me here to die since I’m such a idiot in your eyes, mr spaghetti western.’ You barked, hating Boothill’s unnecessary comments and hating the worried look within his eyes even more, it made you feel useless and pathetic.

Boothill looked at you as though you’ve grown a second head, lost on how that was the conclusion you came to, you must be delirious from the blood loss. ‘Fork me do I have to spell it out for you- I like you fudging dummy!’ He exclaimed. ‘I’m mad not because I hate you but because you’re hurt and I’m scared of loosing you darling!’ He chuckled humourlessly as he presses his forehead against yours, the one time where he was glad that his face was the last places where he could feel your warmth seep into him. ‘Your recklessness has me on the edge of insanity more than once sweetheart. I mean do you know just how much it hurt to see you like this? I might as well have gone on a tirade and hunt down every son of a nice lady who played a part in your scars.’

You remained in stunned silence.

This confession wasn’t something you were expecting from someone like Boothill, it made you wonder whether you were imaging this for yourself, and the reality was that he wasn’t actually here with you and you were indeed dying alone with no one to provide you company other then dead corpses waiting for you to join them. So in hopes of proving yourself wrong, you lifted a hand to his cheek, watched as he melted against it, his warmth seeping into your skin.

He was here.

Boothill was here and this was real, all this was real.

‘I like you too your silly cowboy.’ You whispered before pressing a tender kiss to his plush lips. A battlefield wasn’t a great place for a confession nor for love to blossom but if that was the case then why did it feel so right for the both of you in that moment.

Later you were taken to medical and Boothill, your official partner, went back to talking your ear off about how reckless you were, but would press kisses to your forehead and hands to let you know that he’ll take care of you from now on.

Argenti hated it whenever you came back from missions injured and your carelessness towards the scrapes and bruises that littered your body didn’t exactly help either.

‘I’m fine.’ You said after spraining an ankle.

‘I’ll live.’ You waved him off dismissively after hurting your side during a mission.

It seemed as though you never held yourself in the same regard as he did, and Argenti couldn’t help but feel his heart break the more and more he witness you disregard other people’s concern, acting though you had a paper cut rather then a wound that wound take you out of action for a good couple of weeks.

So when he found you with your back pressed up against a wall and a deep gash on your leg that made it hard for you to stand never less walk.

‘My beloved rose!’ He cried as he rushed to your side, setting aside his weapon as he inspected the wound.

‘I’m okay, it’s only a small gash.’ You told him but Argenti wasn’t about to hear it, not this time. He wasn’t going to allow you the chance to dismiss him when you were severely injured. So when he levelled you with a stare, you began to wish you could take back your words as seeing such a stern expression on a man as beautiful as Argenti was actually downright terrifying. ‘This is vastly different than a small gash, this is a serious injury that could alter your life’s trajectory for good if we treat it with such disregard as you have done with previous injuries.’ He told you with a seriousness that had you listen to him.

‘And why do you care?’ You asked.

‘I’ve always cared.’ Argenti replied straightforward, ‘every injury I’ve cared. I worried for your health, your well-being, both physical and mental, but you don’t seem to do the same and that pains me because you are so-‘

‘-reckless?’ You cut in, having heard the same thing from pretty much everyone and believing Argenti would be no different from them.

‘-beautiful.’ Argenti said and your breath caught in your throat. ‘You are so beautiful to me, my rose. I have found myself grown quite fond of you in a short amount of time that any pain caused to you might as well be my own.’ He finished as he saw the conflicting emotions within your eyes and prays that you could find the truth within his words.

‘Why?’ You asked. ‘What would a knight of beauty want with a reckless idiot like me?’

Argenti smiled softly. ‘You may be reckless but you are far from an idiot my dear, I like you a lot and I merely say this in fear of a future where I may never get the chance to do so for multiple reasons. Whether or not you accept is solely up to you.’ Argenti felt as though he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, but felt a pinch of anxiety when you didn’t respond after a period of time, and began to wonder whether this was a smart move on his behalf.

‘I always dreamed of having a knight in shining armour.’ You admitted, raising a hand to cup the back of his head. ‘But I didn’t think that dream would come true until you came along and I knew in that moment I would give you my heart and so much more.’ Argenti breathes a sigh of relief as he rests his forehead against your own, nuzzling your noses together briefly. ‘I’d be more than honoured of being your knight, if you’ll let me.’

You chuckled as you looked at him fondly. ‘I’d be more than happy to my cherry haired beauty.’ You replied as Argenti was quick to scoop you in his arms and carried you to the medics, who told you that you’d be out of action for quite a while and Argenti was more then happy to be your caregiver during that time, you couldn’t be more happier at the opportunity of being with your knight in shining armour.

[whoistartaglia]

delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere batfam with a sick reader?

Yes but sick reader who is still defiant because hello, they kidnapped you?????

Reader is just glaring at them with tired eyes and a red nose as they once again tuck her under the covers, Dick is highly worried as he frets over you like a mama hen because he did have a heart attack when he caught you standing in front of your open window, where "harsh" gusts of cold air were "attacking your fragile form", so of course, he had to drag you in and wrap his arms around you, rub his cheek against you because he NEEDS to warm you immediately, lest you die of hypothermia.

Yes, Dick overreacts. And yes, Damian will accompany his brother in his delusions, or well, take any chance he gets to scold you.

"You should be in bed, Y/n." Damian said sternly, his eyes narrowed because how dare you worry his favourite brother like this. "Didn't Dick tell you to rest? Are you that incapable of following simple commands?"

You narrowed your eyes back at him, opening your mouth to say something mean but got cut off by your own coughing fit, making Dick rush to help you drink some water, rubbing your back along it. Your throat felt scractchy, and it hurt to speak, but you still wanted to convey your feelings so-

You flipped him off. For a nano second, because Dick immediately grabbed your hand and tucked it back under the covers while Damian's eyes widened at you disrespect, but before he could make any more gremlin noises, but Bruce walked in and Damian knew better than to complain to him about you when youre already sick, cause Bruce wouldve still favoured you.

"Y/n? How do you feel now?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle as he walked closer to where Dick was throwing away your mountain of tissues.

"Im fine. I wanna go out-" "No." "And why not?" "Because youre sick." "You may be Batman, but youre not a doctor!" "I am your father though."

No, youre not. You wanted to say, but knew that would only piss him off and you need to be on his good side if you want Dick and the others to be off your back so that you can escape.

"Whats her temperature?" Bruce asked Dick, who put a thermometer in your mouth quickly. Dick sighed as he told Bruce how you were out of bed and standing in your balcony in the cold just moments ago.

Bruce placed a palm over your forehead, and you tried to move away but there wasnt really any space or energy for you to do that. Bruce's eyes shifted the slightest bit at your burning forehead. "Why do you insist on getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor? Ive already had to pick you up 3 times in the past 2 days."

You pulled out the thermometer and glared at him. "Im fine. Its just sniffles." Bruce's lip quirked a little. You looked absolutely adorable in your delirious state, like an angry kitten.

"I dont think its just sniffles this time. And-" Bruce pulled the thermometer from your hands that you were hiding under the covers. "-dont hide the thermometer from me." His eyes scanned it and the twitch in his brow was enough for Dick to know that the number was too high.

Bruce then eyed the cough syrup next to your side table- its still full.

"Why havent you been taking your medicine?"

"Im not sick-"

"White paint has more color than you do right now. So why havent you been taking the medicine?" Bruce asked and even though he was a little annoyed, he had enough practice dealing with the other kid's rebellious phases to have the patience of a saint.

You shrugged. "How do I know its just cough syrup and not a sedative?" "It is a sedative too. Its supposed to make you sleepy." "Well, I dont wanna sleep and let my guard down in a house full of 5 strange men." You obviously never counted Alfred- hes the only normal one here- except for the part that he wont call the cops for you, but oh well.

Bruce just casted a look to Dick and before you knew it, Dick was pinching your nostrils close and titling your head up while Bruce grabbed the syrup and poured some in your mouth before clamping his hand over it. You struggled to break free, but you were obviously no match to them. Still, tears of frustration pricked your eyes as you looked at them in betrayal and hatred.

"Drink this and dont argue with me, please." Bruce said- well, he genuinely requested at this point.

You didnt have much of a choice other than swallowing it.

With a defiant glare, you begin closing your eyes as your body gave into the effects of the drug, the last thing that you felt were Bruce kissing your forehead while Dick pecked your cheek.

Jason finally decides to drop by the Wayne manor, only to be greeted with the sight of reader lying on the kitchen floor. His heart stopped for a moment- you werent breathing-

"Y/n!" He rushed to your side, only to be smacked in the face by you.

"Shush. Dont be too loud." Your voice sounded like sandpaper against rocks.

Jason huffed. "Well, sorry for freaking out. I thought you were dead-"

"From a cough? Im not weak."

"Yeah? So, what exactly are you doing on the cold floor in the middle of the night?"

"..."

"Well?"

"What? So I cant even take a nap in this house? Jesus Christ, am I allowed to have any autonomy here?"

"Y/n." Jason called, clearly unamused by your sarcasm.

"Fine. I may have fallen and then didnt have the energy to get up, so im just catching my breath here."

"Why are you even out of bed?"

"I was hungry and Im not gonna drink another spoon of Alfred's bland soup again." Alfred made it bland on purpose so that your throat wouldnt be irritated.

"Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints of the soup that you cant even taste." Jason chuckled as he picked you up, only for you to push at his chest weakly.

"I dont need your help. I can walk on my own."

Jason quirked a brow. "If you can make it to the front door without fainting or throwing up, I'll help you escape." You stared at the front door- it wasnt too far, but judging by the fact that its even hard for you to breathe properly and that youve fainted way too many times by just standing for more than a couple of minutes.

But youre stubborn. With great effort, you pushed yourself off Jason and used the kitchen island to pull yourself up. Jason decided to walk in front of you and stand near the kitchen exit because he really wanted to see your struggling face.

You took a trembling step, then another, one hand still using the support of the island until it ended and you were only a couple of feet away from Jason. At this point, you were already out of breath and when you took another step, your legs gave out and the room began spinning.

Luckily, Jason was quick to react. "Alright, just place your arm around mine- or just fall on me, that works too." He teased when you couldnt hold your body weight.

You slumped in his arms. "Just take me to my room." You huffed.

"Alright." Jason lifted your legs up and carried you back up the stairs. "You know you'd get better a lot faster if you just stayed in bed and took your medicine on time. Wouldnt that make your chances of escaping the manor better?"

You stared at him blankly. "Wow. The world must be ending for Jason Todd to be making logical suggestions."

Jason rolled his eyes as he tucked you in bed. "Im just saying, if you get better faster, you'll get to try running from us quicker too."

How do you explain to him that you just dont want to comply to them, even when they're helping you. How do you explain that you dont wanna listen to them because the soft pitiful, patronising look they get in their eyes when they look at you makes you wanna scream and carve your skin out. These are strangers, rich men who just kidnapped you to be a part of their family. No one is that kind. And nothing ever comes for free. Nothing.

"Do you need something? Food, perhaps?" Jason asked. You shook your head. "No, I think Im gonna throw up."

"Oh shit." Jason was hauling his ass out of the room t get you a bucket, only to return with a backpack.

You barely held your puke as you asked. "Wait- whose is this?"

"I dont know!? Damian's?!"

You grinned. "Oh, perfect." You proceeded to throw up into Damian's bag. That little shit just got on your nerves.

BONUS:

"I know you have attachment issues with your blanket but its been a couple of days now and you need to let me wash it." Dick said, trying to tug it out of your grip.

You sniffled and glared. "Im not a child who needs their blankie, Dick. Im just too cold without it and no other blanket can warm me up the same way it does."

"Give the blankie, Y/n." Dick said seriously.

"Its not a blankie." You retorted, but before you could react, Tim suddenly grabbed you while Dick ripped away the blanket. And even though he immediately replaces it with a clean blanket, you still let out a gut wrenching cry

"You'll have it back tomorrow-" Tim starts saying, only for you to sneeze directly in his face, making him freeze.

"And that's why we use tissues." Dick says, wiping both your nose and Tim's face with tissues, while you're not making any effort to suppress the grin that comes on your lips.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Radio Demon Demands Snuggles 1/2

Summary: It's your first rut month in Hell and you've caught the interest of the Radio Demon. The Radio Demon who's annual problem was a bit different than most others....

Notes: NO SMUT, Alastor x Reader, pre-relationship, OOC Alastor, he gets better, Snuggles, communication, suggestive themes because it's about rut

One day you woke up in Alastor’s room, nestled in his bed. You blinked, delirious and confused, and tried to sit up only to find you were pinned down on the mattress.

By Alastor.

Who wasn’t wearing his coat. Or his shoes. Or his monocle.

Who was clinging onto you, cheek pressed into your stomach, his tail wagging happily out in the open.

You were equal parts terrified, confused, and awe-struck. But first.

“Alastor…?”

“Mmmm yes?” He murmured, sleep making his voice come out in a drawl.

“…What are you doing?”

“Snuggling.” Alastor sighed, nuzzling his face against you as his wagging tail picked up speed. His sharp grin had been swapped out for a dopey looking smile, his fangs poked out under his lip.

“….Why?”

“Snuggle time.”

You blinked, confused “Alastor- I- what’s going on- why are you-“

“Shshshshhshshshhhhh.” He said, putting a hand over your face to stop your mumbling “Snuggles.”

He withdrew his hand, wrapping the arm around you and sighing contently.

“…Are you sick? Were you drugged?”

“Only drug here is an excessive amount of dopamine.” Alastor said, his eyes squinting in his smile. “So soft. So comfy.”

Not adjectives you’d use to describe yourself, but that wasn’t important. Your tried to pry Alastor off you only to stop abruptly when he whined. Like a dog. The sound was high-pitched and heartbreaking to hear and you couldn’t find it in you to continue pushing him away.

He snapped right back to you, his tail wagging again as he pressed his face flushed against you.

With no other choice, you ended up laying there, staring at the sky of Alastor’s strange pocket-dimension and feeling squished underneath him. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling by any means, but the strangeness of Alastor’s behavior was still upsetting you. After a bit, you tried again.

“Alastor can you tell me what’s going on now?” You said. His response was to nuzzle his face into your stomach and grip you harder. His ears pinned back slightly as he muttered his protest at being interrupted. This was wrong. Fingers curling into the sheets, you tried to steady yourself enough to breath evenly. It failed. You let out a quiet, shaky sob.

Alastor’s ears shot straight up.

“Alastor, please- I’m really worried, okay?” You said as you fought to keep your voice steady “This is really, really weird for you- and I-“

“Oh, darling….” Alastor sighed. He pushed himself away and off you, though it seemed it took a good deal of effort. His hands came to cradle either side of your face and he wiped your tears away gently “Always so considerate…”

You lightly gripped his wrists and pulled them off you “Alastor-“

“It’s rut month, my dear.”

You didn’t try hiding your confusion.

“…Ah. No one told you about it yet.” He muttered “Rut month….well. Most demons get it, it’s an annual punishment where a demon’s… physical interests, intensify to a point it’s near impossible to control.”

You stiffen. “Uh-“

Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, fingers carding gently through your hair. “it’s…humiliating. To say so, but even I’m not exempt from this.”

“UUUUUHHHH”

“….You seem distressed.”

“Alastor, I do NOT want to fuck.”

“I am not asking you to.” Alastor said, a slight growl to his voice. He pressed your head against his chest and wrapped his long limbs around you, keeping you still “For some demons, ruts are…different. Odd. Whatever. In my case,” he took a long, deep breath, nose buried in your hair “I simply…erk. Get.” He pressed you head firmer against him, as if trying to stop you from pulling away. His body felt very warm and you wondered if that was due to the rut or embarrassment. “…snuggly.”

“….That’s it?”

“Clingy. Snuggly. Perhaps…. A bit….silly. Overly affectionate. All those things I hate being.”

“….It feels wrong.” You sighed, trying to pull away “From what I’m gathering, you’re not exactly yourself. I don’t want to do this if you-“

He whined again, wrapping around you even tighter.

“Alastor.” You said.

It seemed he purposely ignored you, pressing his face against the back of your neck.

“Alastor.” You said again, putting more authority into your voice.

“Don’t do this to me, darling….” He said quietly. The tremble in his voice made your heart break but you meant what you said.

“You would not be okay with this during a normal time.” You said “This is something you’d regret once you’re coherent and I will NOT do that to you. Understand?”

“Darling-“

“No.” You hissed.

“….hold my hand?”

You furrowed your brows. “…. I don’t think you’d-“

“Arm around mine then. Hands on my ears. Something, dearest. Please.”

“…Sit up.”

He did. You pretended it didn’t bother you as much as it did. Gently you guided him so he was laying on his back with his head on the pillow. Then you settled next to him, allowing your arm to just barely brush his. Alastor tried to move closer and you pushed him away.

“No. this is as far you’d go normally.”

“Damn.” He murmured, ears pinning back as he glared intently at the ceiling.

“I think you’ll thank me, later.” You said with a roll of your eyes, flipping open a book you snagged from his bedside. It was a murder mystery, to no one’s surprise.

“Well right now, I am not.” He huffed.

“Whatever. Try to sleep it off.” You said, trying to ignore how badly you wanted to move closer. For whatever reason, Alastor had sought you out for this. That alone was enough the set your cheeks aflame and give you the warm and fuzzies. But he was being so cute too.

It didn’t matter, though. As innocent as snuggling was, you were sure Alastor wouldn’t do it while coherent, and you weren’t going to take advantage of it.

The month crawled by. Alastor seemed to accept the boundary you drew for him, but whenever you weren’t by his side he would start pacing irritably. If it was particularly bad day, he’d start to whine. The residents of the hotel seemed more worried about you than Alastor, asking where you’ve been and why you’ve been hard to reach.

You didn’t know how much Alastor would want to share so you kept it vague. Saying it wasn’t your situation to share. Charlie let up when you assured her you would ask for help if need be. Angel kept smirking whenever he saw you and offered to ‘help you out for rut month’. You supposed that was the natural conclusion to come to but you never said anything other than waving him off.

Turned out you were one of the lucky few who didn’t get the annual rut. Nifty had exclaimed she didn’t get it either. Though she sounded incredibly disappointed by it. Angel’s was so insignificant to him given his lifestyle, and Husk said he’d usual set something up before hand to ‘fuck it out’ as soon as possible. Charlie and Vaggie didn’t seem to get it, as it seemed to be a sinner thing. Lucifer seemed surprised it was a thing at all.

None of this helped you with Alastor. You sighed, feeling utterly drained as you trotted back to his room. Your muscles tense but no fierce tackle was thrown your way. First beat was confusion. Second was concern. Third (but faint) was disappointment.

“Alastor?” You said, taking off your shoes by the door and padding softly into his room.

“Hello, dear.” The Radio Demon grinned. He was sat at an armchair, legs crossed primly as he flipped through a book. His coat and monocle were back, his shoes on neatly.

“Oh! Is it over now?” You exclaimed, relief flooding over the slight (selfish) disappointment.

“It would seem so!” He hummed. He closed his book and placed It on the table next to him before strolling over to you. That sharp-toothed grin was back, no longer the dopey smile you had gotten used to.

“That’s such a relief.” You said with a smile “I can go back to living!”

“Nah-ah-ha.” Alastor hummed, wagging his finger “AFTER-living, darling.”

“Yeah, yeah, that.” You said with a roll of your eyes. “Well! I’ll grab my things I moved over here and get going.”

“Already taken care of!” Alastor grinned “I didn’t exactly want all those soulless stuffed animals staring at me with their void-filled eyes.”

“Dude.” You huffed “They’re just stuffed animals. Chill.”

“Kindly use words that make sense.”

“Skibidi.”

“……YOU don’t even know what that one means.”

“I know it annoys you.”

“HA.”

You laughed a bit. “Well, thanks for that. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Kindly do. I have a plethora of matters to attend to.” Alastor said, his grin straining ever-so-slightly “Damned rut season….”

“Well yeah it’s damned, we’re in hell.”

“HA HA.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” You grinned “Well, see ya.”

“Ta-ta! Oh….One more thing, before you go?”

You stopped, turning to face him “Yeah?”

Alastor ears went back, his eyes darting to the side “…Thank you.”

Your smile softened “Of course.”

[generalsmemories]

HELLOO THEREE!! i love how dedicated you to jing yuan!! Can i have req for 1k event???

Fluff sentences "8" + fluff scenarios "4"!!

Thank you so much!!

I keep looking forward to your JY work!!

Bedrest

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: Not letting the sick one move an inch + playing with their hair until they fall asleep & "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me." "And you're just going to get worse if I don't" || 1k event also requested by @/thetwinkims

✧ content: fluff, established relationship, i swear it's just fluff like for once there's no hidden angst over here.

✧ a/n: hello fellow jing yuan lovers, i'm still alive. this was once again written at 1 AM and not edited at all so if there's any writing mistakes, no there isn't. the initial plan was to keep this one in the drafts while I also write other WIPS to feel productive but i have honestly starved ya'll for months at this point i'm so sorry i'm back with milk.

have soft jing yuan just giggling, is he delirious, sleepy or just in love? we don't know.

If you could describe Jing Yuan in one word other than mischievous, it would be stubborn. The General of the Xianzhou Luofu is too stubborn for his own good, you don't know if this stubbornness of his is rooted in his desire to protect Luofu from danger, or from the fact that he just dislikes when people wish for him to do something in particular.

In any case, his stubborn and mischievous nature could very well be linked to that of a feline - which he himself has been told that he share similar traits of, despite being fully human.

You just wished that he would be less stubborn when it also came to his health.

"Jing Yuan, how many times have I told you to just lay down…!" you say whilst gritting your teeth, using almost every ounce of your strength to push the general back down on the bed. Jing Yuan merely lets out a quiet chuckle, still trying "playfully" wrangling with you. "I'm injured, not sick, dear." he says, to which you merely roll your eyes in exhaustion.

Jing Yuan truly loves it when you finally forego your usual gentle demeanour to a more brazen one. It's usually a side of you that only he can see, more so because he's the only one who can annoy you enough to make you realize that gentle words and probing won't get you anywhere.

"I don't think someone with a temperature of 40 degrees is only injured, darling. Now can you please just lay down before you reopen your wounds?" you plead once again, pressing the heels of your palms further down Jing Yuan's broad shoulder which shook in quiet laughter at your desperate struggle.

"I'm wide awake after having taken numerous naps because per your request though?" he informs, finally settling back down on the bed which finally allows you to lean back to sit on the edge of the bed again. "Last time you insisted that you were fine, I had to get Mimi to help haul you up the stairs because you could barely move." you remind him with a huff, Jing Yuan turning over on his side to face you, his already messy bangs sweeping over to the side to almost cover his right eye.

He didn't say anything, his arm was still laid behind his head to act as another form of cushion while the other rested lazily over the bedsheets. You could however see the golden eyes peering deeply into your own between the grey strands. A silent request that he didn't dare utter to you.

Jing Yuan rarely requested things from you after all.

With a sigh, you turn your body over and hoist your knees over the bed. Nudging Jing Yuan's arm aside with your hands, "Move them." you quietly demand, the same golden eyes that were peering at you blinking in slight confusion. "What for?" he questions softly while moving his arm upwards.

You don't reply, merely raising the thin blanket up to lay down beside Jing Yuan - making sure that you were hoisted a bit higher up than he was. You snake one arm around Jing Yuan's neck, a silent request to make him scoot closer to you.

When he's close enough, you hook your chin over his head while pressing his face towards your chest, the other arm wrapping around his hair. "There we go."

A few beats of silence passes by, you can feel Jing Yuan take in a few more breaths than normal whilst his eyelashes brush against the material of your shirt, the material thin enough to feel every movement of his face that's pressed against the upper part of your torso.

And then he's shaking in another quiet chuckle, "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me at this point, darling." he says, and yet the arms that snake around your waist and the way he snuggles deeper into your chest indicates that he won't let you go now that he got you within his grasp.

He can tell that you're rolling your eyes yet again. You decide to answer his jab with a small peck on top of his head, mostly focusing your attention to the locks of hair in between your fingers, curling a particular strand around your finger whilst your other thumb is busy rubbing soothing circles at his hipbone. "And you're just going to get worse if I don't."

The general merely huffs out a laugh, replying to the peck on his head with kiss against your shirt. "You spoil me way too much." is the last thing he whispers, before he quickly falls into a deep slumber.

Because you both know that Jing Yuan truly never sleeps unless you're near him.

[moonstruckme]

My stomach hurts so bad!! I feel so sick Bb do u think u could write a fic with James or Steve with a super sick gf???

I'm sorry about your stomach babe! Hopefully you're feeling much better by now, thank you for requesting

cw: food poisoning (no vom or anything, just mentioned)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 615 words

You whine, curling in on yourself like you can squash your insides into numbness. “I feel so gross,” you whine. 

“You are pretty gross,” Steve replies, knuckles running up and down your arm. 

You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, appalled. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“What?” Your boyfriend gives you a disbelieving look. “I didn’t say you were hideous, but you are definitely grosser than usual. Like, if we’re taking you on your best day, this is at least thirty percent more gross than that. I can’t agree with that?” 

“No!”

“In that case, I think you’re delirious with fever, babe. I never said anything about you being gross.” 

Despite yourself, a reluctant little chuckle puffs out of you. Steve grins. 

��Even if you were gross,” he drags his palm down the length of your back, letting it curve over your hip to your thigh before starting back in the other direction, “you’d still be way hotter than anyone else I’ve ever seen. It’s only fair that you get gross every now and then. You know, to make everyone else feel better.” 

“I don’t think everyone else is that worried about it,” you say. 

“That’s where I think you’re wrong. Think about it: we eat at the same place we go to all the time, and only you get food poisoning? That’s not chance, that is a planned attack.” 

You look up at him amusedly. “You think this was an assassination attempt?” 

“I mean, without the killing part, probably, but yeah.” 

You hum, settling back in on his lap. “You’re starting to sound like your nerd friends.” 

Steve’s mouth drops open playfully. “I am not! And anyway, if you tune out Wheeler’s brother, sometimes they’re making some good points.” 

You start to smile just before another cramp seizes your middle, rolling through you with a wave of nausea. Steve’s grip on you tightens as your eyes screw shut. 

“Shit.” He sounds part sympathetic and part like he might be in pain himself, one hand worming underneath your arms to rub at your stomach. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it sucks. All we can do is ride it out, and it should be gone by morning.” 

You make a small, distressed sound. “We don’t even know if it’s food poisoning.” 

“Nah, it is.” 

Steve’s massaging helps, and gradually the pain lessens. You take deep breaths until you can think clearly again. 

“How are you so sure?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “It’s just the only thing that makes sense. You’re just getting whatever it was out of your system. You’ll be good as new soon, just you wait.” 

You shoot him a dubious look. “What, you think you’re a doctor now?” 

“No, but I kinda look like I could play one on TV, right?” At your bewildered silence, Steve goes on, his hand still moving gently over your stomach. “I’m just saying, have you ever seen those soap operas in the hospitals? If they came out to Hawkins to do their casting calls, I’d be snatched up in a hot second, babe.” 

You study him. Steve is undeniably handsome, this isn’t new information. He has a firm brow paired with sweetheart eyes and mussable hair, plus a classical sort of bone structure that’s humanized by the odd blemish or mole. Nice skin and a nicer smile. Good hands, too, one of which is currently caressing your hurting stomach while the other plays with the ends of your hair. 

“Nope,” you say, completely lovestruck. “I don’t see it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve gives the pudge of your stomach a gentle squeeze. “It’s just the fever getting to you again.”

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

brutally- r.c. x reader

summary: this is part two of champagne problems-a year after you said no to rafe, you receive a wedding invitation for rafe and sofia's wedding. a/n: this is for the one who asked for part two 🥹 i wrote this at 2 am and my first language isn’t english so bear with me lmaoo, thank you so much to all who've read my silly little story, i honestly didn't think a lot of people would read it. anywayyy i hope you like it <3 warnings: angst (?) depressed reader and low self esteem. oh and swearing lol disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

part 1

seems to me, it's over

i'll get used to it eventually

over and over again, brutally

it's just the way it's meant to be

now your love's no good for me

i closed my eyes listening to the lyrics, my complicated feelings being put into words. it always amazes me how artists could turn pain into art, sadness into poems, and tears into songs. i pulled the covers over my head, darkening the moonlight seeping through my window.

i suddenly heard a knock on my door. i frowned and paused the song, confused. it was 2 am, and i knew that my family would be dead asleep by now, so i started freaking out. i lay still for a moment but ignored it after a while, thinking that maybe i had just imagined it. after all, i haven't exactly been sleeping like i should. insomnia makes you delirious, or so i’ve heard.

knock, knock, knock.

ok, i was definitely not imagining it. i got up quietly and almost tripped on my bunny by accident.

“sorry, baby,” i whispered. i then grabbed a candlestick on my right hand, lifting it in case i needed to hit whoever was behind the door. i mean what kind of burglar would knock? i chuckled nervously as i walked to the door. ugh, it must be jonathan again with his stupid ghost jokes. i took a deep breath and turned the handle with my left hand, swinging the door wide open.

oh, this motherfucker will know to stop messing with me. “jonathan, i swear to god if you’re–,” the words got stuck in my throat. ok, i was officially insane. because there was no way i wasn’t imagining this.

“rafe?” i hissed. “what are you doing here? and how the fuck did you get in?” see? completely irrational, therefore i was hallucinating.

“the front door was open,” he said with wide eyes, clearly trying to look innocent.

i narrowed my eyes, “i personally locked all the doors. so don’t fucking lie to me, or so help me, i will scream.” if i screamed, i knew someone would hear and would come to wake me up.

he smirked, “if you already know the answer, why do you bother asking? also, please scream, i’ve missed hearing it.” what the fuck?! my dreams have never been this vivid. this is it, my own personal hell.

it had been a month since i’d seen rafe and sofia at the beach, and since then i have avoided people even more than before. although on the rare occasions that i did go out, like the grocery store, whispers and covert glances would follow me around like a blood hound.

my eyes were adjusting to the hallway’s darkness, and i noticed that his under eyes were far too like mine. then i saw blood running from his nose, lip, and a bruise was forming on his cheek.

“what happened? oh my god, are you okay?” my voice filled with worry, erasing all the anger i felt because i still cared. more than i should.

“never felt better.” okay maybe not entirely. jerk. i then looked away from his face and saw that his shirt was also soaked with blood. it was so much, and i felt sick. if there was something i hated more than anything it was seeing the boy i loved hurt, even if he did it to himself. hell, more if he was the reason behind it. but why would he come here? of all places?

he still hasn't answered my question, but i figured i’d interrogate him while i cleaned his wounds.

i sigh, then pull him by the arm into my room. that’s when it hit me, alcohol. great.

“sit,” i ordered. “be careful with gia.” i saw a ball of white fur running around happily. strangely enough, she loved rafe, despite him not being around in a long time. she’s just like her mom. oh, fuck off. i left my bedroom to look for band-aids and rubbing alcohol. i grabbed some painkillers and a glass of water to try and sober him up. i paused at the head of the stairs to listen to any signs of my parents being awake. snoring met my ears, and i sighed with relief. i didn’t need to explain why my ex-boyfriend was in my room all bloody while being engaged. engaged. i blinked the tears away, “focus.”

the first thing i see when i get back is gia on rafe’s lap. traitor. he was petting her despite knowing i never let her get on my bed. she loved ripping my sheets far too much when i didn’t give her attention. he looked up and smiled at me. my heart broke a little, or what was left of it anyway.

i take her out of his lap and place her gently on the floor. i swear she looked at me judgingly, but then again, she's just a bunny. a traitor but still a bunny.

“she’s so big already,” he says quietly.

“yeah.” i answer. “she’s a year old.”

he looked surprised, “really?” his blue eyes somehow managed to glow in the darkness. why do they always do that?

i nodded looking down, “it’s been a while.” i repeated the words he’d said to me at the beach.

he furrowed his brow at that, but didn’t answer. i turn around and take the chair from my desk, dragging it to where he’s seated. he’s not looking at me, instead watching my paintings on the walls and the clutter of pencils and paintbrushes on my desk.

“you’re painting again,” he stated. no shit, sherlock.

i nodded again. “inspiration has been coming easily lately.” i left so many things unsaid. i wish i could call myself an artist, an echo of my earlier thoughts.

you consumed me, leaving no trace behind.

i felt like i was back 13 months ago before everything went downhill, about to clean his cuts like i’d done far too many times before. i wish i could heal wounds that were not visible to the naked eye.

i took a ball of cotton and dipped it in the alcohol. i leaned in, avoiding his eyes. those goddamn eyes. “this is going to hurt.”

“i know,” he winced when i pressed the ball to his cut lip. “sorry,” i then pressed it to his brow, noticing a small cut. leaning from my chair to clean his face was harder than i thought. normally, i’d be straddling his lap with his hands around my waist. don't go there.

i tried to keep my breath normal while i put on the band-aids. his gaze was intently on my face, but i avoided his eyes. “done.” i leaned back and then i gathered the used cotton and paper.

“you'll have to look at me eventually.” his voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming. by his state, i'd be surprised if he hadn't.

“only if you answer my question.” i sat back down and grabbed the alcohol bottle and the pills. i took two out and handed it to him along with the glass. i still didn't look at him.

“i got into a fight.”

“well, thank you captain obvious.” i finally met his gaze and only found sadness in them.

he chuckled without humor, “you asked.”

“you know what i meant.”

he went quiet for a while, staring out the window. i took the opportunity to get a good look at him. i frowned when i noticed he’d lost weight. he looked so healthy at the beach, what happened? his nails were bitten to the quick and his signet ring looked loose around his finger. his shirt had once been blue, but was now deep red. his jeans were also matted with blood and his shoes had dirt and blood on them as well. his hair was longer now, falling to his forehead in a messy manner. he looked oddly beautiful. he always did and it made me want to cry. it was so unfair, why was falling in love so easy but getting out of it borderline impossible? every time i went to sleep, he was there, haunting me in my dreams. i woke up and there he was, everywhere. my clothes, my bed, my hands, my eyes, my fucking heart. it wasn’t his to own, yet he stayed without any intention of leaving.

his eyes met mine and he finally says, “better hear it from me than from somebody else.”

i frowned, “what do you mean?”

“i had a fight with one of your friends.” i clenched my jaw.

“what?!”

“pope, he provoked me,” he looks back at me defiantly.

“pope? rafe, what the fuck?” i was so confused right now.

i’m having a fever dream, i must be. pope was a saint, he wouldn’t hurt anyone and if he did, it would be with good reason. he was the only one of the pogues i talked to the most. after rafe and i broke up, i pushed sarah away and by extension, john b. so because of that, jj talked to me on occasion and kie only ever talked when she hadn’t heard from me in a while. which had become less and less when i stopped putting effort into our friendship. so, the only one left was pope, sweet and kind pope. i could never push him away; he didn’t deserve it. well, none of them really did, but we had a special bond. i think it was because my brother and i had spent the entirety of our only summer camp with him. pope and i were seven and my brother was eight and we were inseparable, the only times we didn’t see each other was when the boys and girls were divided for different activities, which wasn’t often. so right now, i am furious.

“i need an explanation. now!” i remembered to lower my voice, but i almost didn’t care.

“no, wait. you know what? i don’t need to listen to this,” i took a deep breath and closed my eyes, because if i didn’t, i would punch something, preferably rafe.

i turned around and pointed at the door, without looking at him, “get. out. now.”

“no.”

i scoffed and opened my eyes, “what do you mean, no? you don’t get to decide, ok? first of all, we aren’t together anymore. secondly, you broke into my house, drunk and bloody and third, you had a fight with my best friend.” i tightened my fists to control my anger.

“i won’t leave until you hear me out,” he crossed his arms and glared at me.

“i don’t have to hear you out. this is my house, therefore my rules.” oh my god. this is it. i have become my mother.

“fine. let’s go outside then,” he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out the door before i could protest.

“rafe cameron. let me go, right now.” i yanked my arm to no avail, and to be fair i wasn’t strong enough. id lost too much weight and didn’t exercise, although i don’t think that would’ve helped me much if i’m being honest. rafe was freakishly strong.

“no. you’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not.” i could feel him trembling with anger and i hated that my heart started pounding so fast. he’s practically kidnapping you and you’re all excited? what the fuck is wrong with you? oh god, let’s not go there.

i knew there was no point in fighting, so i let him drag me out the front door and down the street to a small playground that we used to spend a lot of time in late at night. i hate that he remembers where it was and that he didn’t hesitate in taking us there.

when he finally let me go, he didn’t face me. i crossed my arms expectantly. i looked around me and saw that all the houses were dark, the moon being our only witness. how i love her. it made me feel a little better that she was lighting our path and, in a way, creating a spotlight on us. cheap shakespearean tragedy again. i started shaking from the cold and hugged my sweatshirt tighter and faced rafe. i hadn’t noticed him looking at me quietly. i felt a little pang in my chest at the familiar gesture.

“well?” i raised an eyebrow, expectantly. he started to fidget and avoided my gaze.

“i—” he looked down and frowned. “i broke up with sofia.”

i took in a sharp breath. ok, i wasn’t expecting that. what the fuck was i supposed to say? he stayed silent and i realized he was waiting for me to say something. “i’m sorry,” i guess. i don’t know.

he scoffed and lifted his eyes to mine. like always, they shined but this time they weren’t as bright. he was sad, i could tell.

“i still don’t see what this has to do with pope and you breaking into my house, though.”

he nodded and walked towards the swing seat that was a few feet away from us. i felt like i had déjà vu in that moment. here was the first time he kissed me. on that very same swing set. i sighed and went to sit on the empty swing by his side.

“remember when we snuck out here and we got drunk for the first time?” he asked.

i laughed, “yeah, i then swore i would never touch alcohol again. my mom was so mad.”

he laughed too, “my dad congratulated me that day, said i was finally a man.”

“what? that’s so unfair,” i feigned annoyance. “my mom locked me up for a week.”

“i did break you out, though.” he pointed out and chuckled.

“the least you could do after making me steal my mom’s liquor,” i smiled and stared at the ground. our laughter died down and all that was left was the bittersweetness of what once was. i was so happy back then; everything was so simple. sure, i’d had my low days but after a while, i started dimming until i turned off. the lightbulb now burnt out, but unlike the real ones, i couldn’t be replaced. a sudden wave of guilt came over me. i ruined everything and for what? i stopped talking to my friends, broke the heart of the love of my life and built a fortress around me, not to keep people out, but to keep myself in. that way i wouldn’t hurt anyone, or so i thought.

“i’m sorry.” i lifted my head, confused.

“for what?” i asked.

“everything.” he looked at me with a tired expression.

“what is everything, rafe?” if anything i should be the one apologizing.

“for pressuring you when you didn’t want to marry me. i knew how you felt about it and i still pushed and ruined what we had. i was selfish and stupid, but i swear i didn’t mean to. i never meant for you to feel like i didn’t respect your boundaries or your beliefs.” i could tell he’d thought about those words for a while. he was so wrong. “rafe—”

“no, please let me finish.” his eyes were glassy, and i swore i could see him burning from the inside. a feeling i knew all too well.

he takes a deep breath and starts talking, “i am not going to deny that i was angry and hurt and that i felt like i was going insane. i spent weeks wondering what i’d done wrong, ways to make you take me back and every time i looked for you at your house, your brother or your mother would turn me away. and i never saw you outside, even months after our breakup.

“and instead of being angry at myself, i began to feel angry at you. why did you do this to me? when you knew how i felt about you and that i would never feel the same way for anybody else.” he gets up and starts pacing, avoiding my gaze and i’m grateful because my heart has somehow broken once more, and rivulets start descending, falling to the ground.

he starts gesturing wildly with his hands and turns to me, “i was broken, ok? you broke me and i started spending my nights at the country club, permanently glued to the bar. i drank away my pain and then this girl started noticing how sad i was. despite me being a jerk to her, she was kind to me and instead of serving me more drinks she started listening to me.” sofia. great. now i have to listen to their love story and how she healed him or whatever. stop being so bitter.

“so, i asked her out and she said yes, and we started dating. for the first time in months, i felt better. like maybe i could be good enough for someone, even if it wasn’t the person i wanted. i locked you away in my head and made sofia my priority. i was petty when i asked her to marry me. i wanted you to see that i had moved on, that it wasn’t that special, and that you’d done me a favor. that i could be happy without you.” i’d stopped looking at him in an attempt to hide my tears.

“but then i saw you at the beach. and all those feelings came crashing back in. that day i wanted to scream at you, kiss you, hurt you, and hold you so hard you couldn’t leave me again. i saw sofia go to you and you looked the same, yet not. when you said you were sick, i figured it was a cold and not the way i hoped. that maybe you were just as miserable as me. then you turned around and i couldn’t stop myself. so, i went to you, and i saw you crying and it took everything in me not to reach out to you. i realized i wasn’t over you and that i never would be. and i’m angry at you because i saw you for less than ten minutes and you somehow managed to destroy everything, i’d worked so hard to build. i hurt sofia badly. she didn’t deserve that, and i hate myself for it and i hate that i still love you.”

i looked up at that, shocked. i suddenly forgot how to speak.

but he had so much more to say because he didn’t stop, “so i broke up with her a few days after that and today, i went to find another place to drink, because she worked at the country club, and i couldn’t go there. you ruined that for me too. you managed to exile me without a word, and i went to the next best thing in kildare. your friend’s restaurant, and there were your stupid friends and my sister talking and laughing. when sarah saw me, she came up to me and i snapped at her, so john b stepped in and then jj and pope came along to kick me out so i punched him and then the others got into the fight as well, until they called the police and told me to leave. and i ended up here without realizing it. because i always come back to you.”

he was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon, his words starting to mix. i could only stare at him, and i guess that pissed him off even more.

“answer me for fuck’s sake!” i flinched. he’d never yelled at me like that. first time for everything.

“i—”

“y/n, please. i need you to talk to me because i’m going insane. please, i need a fucking answer. why did you do this to me?” he knelt in front of me, crying. i hate myself so much.

“rafe, i’m sorry,” i sob.

“sorry doesn’t cut it, okay?” his nostrils flared. “i need an explanation for why you left me.”

i take a deep breath and nod. “you’re right. i just- i.”

i sigh and close my eyes, “i didn’t say no because of my views on marriage, ok? i didn’t say no because i didn’t think you weren’t good enough for me, on the contrary. i felt like you deserved so much better than me. i’m pretty shitty, rafe. i didn’t want to ruin things, only to realize it was too late. i just wanted you to be happy, even if that meant with somebody else. somebody who could love you better than i ever could. i hurt you and i’m sorry, it’s the last thing i wanted. i only want you to be happy and i can’t give you that. you’re an amazing person, rafe.” i put my hand on his cheek and wipe away his tears.

“i do love you, rafe. i always have and i always will. i love you so much that i know what you deserve and it’s not me. i’m not ok. i’ll sabotage everything in the end, like i always do. i didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

i felt his features harden under my hand and he got up. he glared at me and his chest started rising and falling angrily.

“what the fuck, y/n? you don’t get to decide what’s good for me. that is my decision, and you didn’t ask me, ok? you went ahead and broke up with me for no clear reason. i know i fucked up by proposing, but we didn’t have to break up. instead, you left me there, alone and with my heart ripped out. it’s such bullshit. i am a grown man, and a relationship is between two people, but instead you decided i wasn’t capable, and you chose for both of us. that is so fucked up, y/n.”

“do you really think this low of me? that i’m an idiot who can’t think? or even worse, that i wasn’t a good enough boyfriend that you felt like i couldn’t help you? is that what this is? you think i’m incompetent? did i do something that made you feel like that? you should’ve told me how you were feeling, not bottle it up and then leave with no explanation. i’m not chopped liver, you know? we were supposed to be there for each other in the good and the bad.”

i looked down at my hands, ashamed. he was right, and it just proved everything i’ve said. “i never meant for it to be this way. i thought i was doing the right thing, ok? and it’s not that i thought you couldn’t handle it, i just didn’t think you should. you’ve had enough problems with your life for me to bring you more. a relationship is of two people, but i wasn’t in the right headspace to be able to maintain it. you couldn’t fix me, and i didn’t expect you to.” i looked up and his face was still wet with tears but was otherwise serious. he stared at me, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched. he was so angry and upset. its all your fault. it always is.

he was quiet for a while and i thought he wasn’t going to speak until he said, “who ever said i wanted to fix you? you don’t need fixing and you’re painting me as if i’m perfect. i’ve had my fair share of fucked up stuff too and you helped me. i just wanted to be there for you, i still do. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“besides, what good has it done for us to be apart? if anything, we’re worse. i get drunk at least three times a week and you never leave your house. when was the last time you went out with your friends? you think i didn’t know? i talked to sarah sometimes and she always said you were ignoring her and avoiding the others.” his voice started raising again and started walking towards me.

i looked up at the sky, the moon hiding behind clouds. even she’s embarrassed. “i didn’t say it would be good for me, i only meant that it would be good for you.” how many times do i have to say it?

“yeah well, it’s not, ok? it hasn’t been good for me. i want to be with you. and i’m tired of this whole sad girl shit you’ve got going on, alright? you’re not the only one in pain and frankly, you’ve only done more harm than good. your friends don’t deserve your disappearance acts, much less my sister. sarah loves you more than anything, more than she loves me. you’re her sister and you’re being selfish.” i just felt like i’d been slapped in the face. although maybe that would’ve stung less. the worst part is that he’s right, but now i was starting to get pissed off.

so, i did what i always do, hurt them back. real mature.

“there you go, you discovered america. i’m a shitty person and i’m selfish and self-centered and egotistical and a hypocrite. whatever you want to call me, ok? you just proved my point so congratulations on finally figuring it out.” i got up and wiped my tears and began to walk away before i said something else that i’d regret or worse.

he grabbed my arm before i could take another step and sat me back down, “you don’t get to have the last word, ok? when will you finally understand that the thing you were supposedly protecting me and the others from, is precisely your behavior right now. being present before wasn’t hurting anybody, and now, by removing yourself from our lives, you’ve caused exactly what you were trying to avoid. i’m so fucking pissed off with your self-pity. before being your boyfriend, i was your best friend, or at least i thought i was. sarah was your best friend, and you could’ve told her if you didn’t want to talk to me, alright? but this self-isolation is over. you’re only hurting everyone else.” his blue eyes were somehow colder than the night air. i know that what he’s saying is true, but i don’t feel like it is. i’m so overwhelmed that all i want is to rot in my bed alone.

i yanked my arm out of his grip and stood up. “i have enough to deal with without you making it worse. forget about me, ok? its better this way and maybe you should go talk to sofía. she clearly loves you more than me.” i pushed past him and didn’t look back.

something hit me from behind (not in a good way) and i ended up on the ground. “what the fuck?” rafe tackled me. like some fucking nfl player. “dude are you for real?” he flipped me over and pinned my hands over my head. my breath hitched and he noticed. motherfucker.

“i’m not going back to sofia, ok? and you’re not leaving until i say so.” in other circumstances this would be hot, but right now i am exhausted. sure, of course you are. and i really wanted him to kiss me. i was so close to giving in.

“do tell, rafe.” i forced my voice to sound tired, but my heart said otherwise. yeah, his body on top of mine was enough to wake me up. horny bitch. i just really miss him. is that so bad?

he didn’t respond though, he was breathing rapidly, and his gaze fell on my lips, but before i could say something his lips crashed into mine. his hands let go of mine and moved to cradle my face and i threaded my fingers through his hair. shit.

suddenly my body felt alive again, my heart restarting completely and my mind went quiet for the first time in a year. i moaned when he bit my lip softly and he groaned when my tongue trailed his. we fell into that familiar rhythm and suddenly i felt like nothing had changed. i pulled away to breathe but he only took the opportunity to kiss my face and jaw, then down my neck. i tugged at his hair, and he kissed me again, this time rolling us over, so i was on top, with my legs on either side of him. he somehow managed to sit up and his right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer while his left hand pushed the hair out of my face. this time he was the one that pulled back, only to wrap his other arm around my waist and bury his face in the crook of my neck. i stroked his hair and closed my eyes. i quit all of my resolve and hugged him tighter to me. he spoke first.

“i missed you so fucking much,” his voice cracked, and i then felt something cold slide down my chest. he was crying. and that broke me. i started sobbing and hugged him impossibly tighter, “me too. i love you so much, i’m sorry.” i pressed my lips to his head and inhaled his scent. home. he lifted his face to look at me and his hair fell over his brow. he was so beautiful. the moonlight bathed him over, the planes of his face highlighted, and the shadows became more pronounced. chiaroscuro. a technique i’d never mastered, yet the moon, ever the artist, did so effortlessly.

a tear fell down his cheek and i kissed it away, and before i knew it, i kissed every crevice of his face and whispered i love you’s spilled from my lips. i hated that i was the cause of his pain. when i finally pulled away, his eyes were closed, and i lifted my hand and traced his face like i’d done forever ago. “your freckles are like constellations,” i whispered. he chuckled at the memory and hugged me to his chest.

after a while of us sitting still he said, “don’t leave me again, please.”

i pulled away, put my hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes. “i’ll stay as long as you want me, but i don’t want to hurt you again.” i meant it.

“you’ll only hurt me if you leave. and i want you to know that i’ll help you get better, but please don’t push me away. i only want you to be happy too, but the way you’re living right now won’t let you achieve that.”

i looked down and nodded, “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry, too.” he lifted my chin so i could meet his gaze. “we can do this together, okay? its not about fixing each other, but about supporting one another. you don’t need fixing because you aren’t broken.” my eyes welled up at that and this time he was the one that kissed my tears away.

“just let me in, please.” his lips felt like the perfect antidote, and i knew then that i would be alright, with his help and my friends’.

“ok.” he pulled back when he heard me and smiled, and god how i’d missed that smile.

i smiled back and rested my head on his shoulder. “you really need to change and shower.”

he laughed, “yeah, pope won’t appreciate new fashion choices.”

i laughed too, “i have to see them and apologize. tomorrow. you’re right, i’ve only made things worse.”

“i’ll go with you, if you want. though don’t expect me to apologize.”

i slapped his shoulder, “rafe!”

“fine, then i won’t go.” i narrowed my eyes at him.

“you have to apologize, or i won’t talk to you for a week.”

his eyes widened, panicked. “fine, ill go. just please don’t do that.”

i didn’t expect that reaction to be fair. “i was joking, i’m sorry.”

“well, it wasn’t funny,” he pouted. why is he so cute? i’m so down bad.

“ok ok.” i stand up and offer my hand for him to stand up. he takes it but once he’s up he doesn’t let go.

as we walked up to my house, i realized he can’t stay with me.

“are you going home?” i ask.

rafe looks down at me, “are you that desperate to get rid of me?”

i roll my eyes, “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“hmm, better be. but to answer your question, yeah. although i was hoping you’d come with me.”

i stop at that, “i can’t, my mom will get worried.”

he groans frustrated. “can’t you just say you left to stay with a friend?”

i raise an eyebrow at that, “she’ll never believe that, especially at this hour.”

“i meant like leave a note. but i can stay with you, unless you want me to go. i have clothes in my truck, if that’s what you’re worried about.” he stops and looks at me expectantly. his offer is tempting but i can’t help but feel like we’re going too fast.

“i don’t want you to go and id love to stay with you, but maybe we should stay away for tonight. i feel like its too sudden.” his frowns at that, but nods though i can tell he’s a little annoyed.

“yeah, i guess you’re right.” he looked like he wanted to say something else and after seemingly thinking about it for a bit he says, “i just don’t want to be alone tonight.” me neither.

i nod, “ok, but get your clothes first.” his eyes light up and he nods before letting go of me to head towards his truck. when he gets back, we go up the stairs quietly and i tell him to go shower while i set the bed. we used to do this countless times when we were together. i usually took a couple of weighted blankets and draped them over us so my parents wouldn’t notice he was there, although they probably wouldn’t come in tomorrow, or today, because they had work early. i’d still lock my door just in case, that way i’d be alerted if they tried to get in. i jump, startled, when the door opens, and rafe comes in. he’s wearing a sweat set and is barefoot. he chuckles at the sight of the bed, “that never gets old.” gia suddenly hops onto my bed, and i lift her up and kiss her. “you know you can’t be here.” i then set her down and she runs under my desk, but not before stomping her back feet in annoyance. i feel rafe hug me from behind and kiss the top of my head, now smelling of my shampoo and soap.

“nice fragrance,” i giggle.

“thank you, it’s from a very exclusive shop in paris.” he says in an arrogant manner.

“oh, my bad, my lord.”

“apology accepted, my lady.” he picks me up and throws me onto the bed, before enveloping us with the blankets. after snuggling in my small bed, i kissed his cheek. “i love you.”

he hugs me tighter and kisses me softly, “i love you, too.”

part two <333 @lissylopez i hope you like it <3

divider creds: @anitalenia

[thatoneautisticshark]

We've been blessed with Gaz taking care of a sick Ghost, but what do you think about a situation of Price taking care of a sick Soap? 👀

-ttt (who may or not be sick right now with a cold and loves a good comfort sick care fic🤧)

yes very very cute. It's a bit short sorry lol. I'm sleepy. Art at the end!!

Price glanced up from his paperwork as the door creaked open, and Soap walked in brandishing a stack of papers. “Finally finished all the fucking shitty paperwork ye gave me, if you give me more I'll bloody shank ye”

Price huffed a laugh, taking the papers, bopping soap on the head with them. “Don't be threatening your captain Mactavish” he chided putting the papers on his desk.

He turned back to the scot, frowning slightly. Soap wasn't looking good. His eyes were a little red, he was pale and swaying slightly on his feet, and when Price looked a little closer, he saw the others hands shaking.

He chewed on his lip as he debated it. As a friend, he was worried, and wanted to care for his friend. But as a professional and captain, he might be crossing lines.

But as he watched Soap sneeze and then wince as if the sneeze had caused him pain, Price knew he couldn't just professionally drop it.

“Mactavish, you solid?”The scot startled slightly looking up at Price.

“Uhm yeah… yeah I'm okay Cap”

Well that was bullshit. Soap looked like he may collapse if the wind blew too hard. And Soap clearly knew it was bullshit.

“Would you like to try that again? Because that was false”

Soap winced “Right sorry..” he chewed over his words “Uhm… I'm just a bit off.. think ay got a cold…’ts no big deal sir”

“Oh don't bullshit me. You are shaking, you should be resting”

Soap pulled a face, somehow still fighting while being sick. “Ay am fine Price! Christ ye acting like… a bloody.. mother hen ye numpty…” He trailed off at the end, and Price barely had time to stick out his hands, catching the sergeant as his legs gave out.

Price quickly wrapped his arms around the waist, holding the other up. “Mactavish seriously?”

The man in his arms groans, pushing himself back to his feet.“I-....sorry sir.. I'll be okay”

Okay? Price looked at him incredulously. The man was barely standing and had the gall to say he'd be okay?

“You need to rest, Mactavish, and I don't trust you'll rest if I tell you too. So you are coming with me”

The scot stammered in confusion but let himself be dragged towards the captains quarters. “I..wha- but…. Okay..” he finally conceded.

When they arrived at Price's room he gently pushed the other onto the bed, Soap not having the energy to argue, laying down and drifting off.

Over the next few hours he stirred a few times but never woke up, until Price was just beginning to wonder if he would be sleeping on the couch, when the sergeant woke, mildly delirious.

“I'm colddd” he whined at price, who was holding back a chuckle, while walking over.

He sat on the edge of the bed, before letting out an undignified squeak as Soap pulled him down. “Warm.”

Price blinked as soap clung to him, considering his options. He could easily push the other off. Soaps' grip was weak, and he couldn't fight.

But he just couldn't bring himself to. Soap was so vulnerable right now. And in this state he choose to seek out Price.

He sighed pulling his shirt off and sliding under the covers letting Soap rest on his chest, Soap immediately snuggling in.

This wasn't the worst thing ever.

And if when morning came and Price didn't want to wake soap so he simply read the reports with the other on him, who would know?

If anyone can identify what the wallpaper is, kudos. I wanna see if anyone gets it

[star-writes-sometimes]

fwb!thanos blurb

a/n - this is so short but i wanted to post something today

c/w - nothing? sick reader, soft fwb!thanos

—

if you didn’t already have a headache, the incessant knocking on your door would have given you one.

you sigh as you wrap your blanket around your body tighter and slowly make your way to the door. when you open the door and you are greeting by a grinning thanos with a tote bag he stole from you in his hand.

“hey gorgeous, you look like death,” he says as he pushes his way into your apartment.

you groan slightly and shut the door, “thanos, i told you i’m sick. i’m not going out tonight.”

he looks at you in confusion, “yeah, i know. that’s why i brought you food, so we can hang here,” he says simply.

you sigh and rub your temple softly as you sit back on the couch, “being sick means i’m not sleeping with you either, you should go.”

he falters at that and dumps the bag on your coffee table. he kneels in front of you and grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your skin softly, “i didn’t come here for sex. i wanted to hang out and make sure you were okay.”

you frown slightly, not expecting such a soft response from him.

“do you want me to leave?” he adds, looking up at you with an unfamiliar vulnerability. 

you smile slightly and squeeze his hands back, “no. you brought me food that wins my favour for at least an hour.”

his grin returns and he pulls a bag of takeaway out of the tote bag, “only an hour?”

you try to suppress your grin as you snatch the bag, “i can be talked into an hour and a half.”

“so generous of you, beautiful,” he teases and sits on the couch next to you, lazily throwing his arm behind your back.

“you probably shouldn’t be sitting that close to me, i am actually sick,” you say with a frown as you start eating.

thanos just shrugs carelessly, “i don’t get sick. and even if by some miracle i do then we can just quarantine together.”

you huff out a laugh and nudge him with your shoulder, “you’d get zoochosis by day two, you are not an indoor cat.”

he dramatically places a hand over his heart in mock offence, “is that what you truly think of me gorgeous? i’m hurt, i could totally disappear from the world for a while.”

you click your tongue and smile, “i wouldn’t lie to you, pet.”

he shakes his head, a small pout on his face, “all these animal references you must think so low of me.”

“not low per say. you’re just like the pathetic stray i tried to get rid of but felt too bad for so now i’m stuck with you.”

“stuck with me?” he asks, his tone full of playful indignation.

you hum as you munch on your food before responding, “yeah, and like, you bringing me food is like when cats bring their owners dead mice and shit.”

thanos laughs at that, “you’re my owner now?”

you just nod and eat more, “mm hmm.”

he hums almost mockingly and reaches up to touch your forehead, “i think you’re all delirious from your sickness.”

“you can think whatever you like, i know i’m right.”

“keep telling yourself that, baby.”

—

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would Farmer Sans handle hearing that MC was sick? Maybe they usually meet up a certain time while managing their morning chores and they’re just.. not there, only for him to later find that they’re bedridden

"hey, pumpkin."

The sound of Sans' voice, regardless of how soft it was, made you panic.

You sat bolt upright from your spot curled into the couch, jolting out of your strange fever dream. A cooling pack fell off your head, and a blanket you didn’t remember grabbing slipped from your shoulders to your lap.

Immediately, you could tell that you weren’t on your home couch. You didn’t recognise the blanket someone had tucked you under. You weren’t cold, you couldn’t smell the usual mix of dust and gradually fading damp - in fact, there were many wonderful scents mingling in the warm air, soup and tea and a sweet bread aroma that made your stomach rumble. 

It certainly wasn’t where you expected to wake up, after you fell asleep in front of the dodgy TV once the painkillers finally kicked in. This was someone else’s couch. And after a few bleary moments, you recognised it all. 

... It was Sans’ couch. You were in his house.

You looked up a little to see the man himself, as handsome as ever, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking at you. A gentle flicker of relief passed over his face. 

“rise and shine,” he said, voice as warm as the room. “how’re you feelin’?”

Huh? 

...

Your eyes widened. "S-Sans!?"

Bad decision. At such a sudden vocalisation, your body decided that was the perfect moment to send you into a horrendous coughing fit that made the inside of your throat feel like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.

Sans just put a big gentle hand on your back, letting you work through it, quiet as you hacked your lungs up.

Eventually the coughing eased off; once you had control of your body again, you turned your gaze back to him.

"Y-you...” Your cheeks were starting to burn. “why am I...?"

“you weren’t answerin’ the phone. i got worried.” As he spoke, you kept messing with your shirt, nervously pulling it down over yourself. “came to check on you, an’ you were totally out of it, could barely answer me. i had to go work, but figured i should bring you somewhere me an’ pap can keep an eye on you.”

... Oh no. You put your hands over your face, slowly getting quieter and quieter as the situation dawned on you. “Y-you really didn’t need to...”

“course we did. ain’t safe for you to be so sick all on yer own.”

This was a nightmare. Now, on top of being sick, you were absolutely mortified at Sans seeing you in this state. Tired, achy, sweaty... you were dressed in a stained old shirt and pyjama pants, visibly unshowered and pretty much as ungroomed as one could get. You distinctly remembered throwing stuff on your floor before you fell asleep, too weak to get up and go put it in the garbage - empty blister packs and used, crumpled tissues. Did he see all your dirty trash when he came to find you?

You wanted to melt into the couch. He had seen you delirious and ill, at your absolute greasiest and grossest. Stars, what did he think of you now?

“I-I’ve been out for hours?” you asked.

“mhm.”

Your whole world was coming down around your ears. Why couldn’t Sans have just let you die at home, where no one would see your shame?

“you didn't tell me you were sick,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear. There was a strangely... sullen edge to his tone? 

Your face was on fire. You had already intruded so much on him and his brother’s kindness over the last few weeks. Sans had repaired your stove and water pipes, bought you fresh food from the farm, helped fix a leak in the roof, not to mention when you asked him to stay the night like you were a frightened baby. Now here you were; being sick and disgusting right in the middle of his house. 

Before he could say anything else, you pushed the blanket off you, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and scrambling to your feet.

“I-I should get home,” you said, hoarse.

Immediately, Sans’ brows raised. You didn't look at him for long, walking unsteadily and trying your best to concentrate on not tipping over.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just-”

... Your feet went out from underneath you. 

You squeaked, loudly - but Sans didn’t care, he scooped you up like you didn’t weigh a thing. To him, you probably didn’t weigh a thing. You could feel his massive strength through his clothes, and you immediately knew that if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown you straight into the air like a child.

You couldn’t tell if it was the height that was dizzying, how close your face was to his, or if you were just way weaker right now than you realised. But immediately your hands balled in his shirt.

"... easy," he murmured, one arm under your thighs. "i don't bite."

... Your face filled with so much heat it felt as if the tips of your ears were going to set alight. You tried to say something, but when you opened your mouth, literally nothing came out. Not a sound. All you could do was hold on to his shoulders.

Sans’ voice became normal again, jokingly stern. “sorry. not goin’ anywhere on my watch, pet. you need to rest. look at you - yer burnin' up.”

Your whole body had tensed up. But not out of fear. You just stared into his eyelights.

He very gently sat you back down onto the couch, putting the cold pack into your hands. “you stay right there, ok? i’ll getcha some soup. it should be ready by now.”

"O-ok," you helplessly replied.

Sans moved away, disappearing into the kitchen.

...

There wasn't much else you could do, but lay down and put the cooling pack back on your head... trying to figure out how to make your heart slow down.

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

— NOTHING TO HOLD ONTO BUT SHATTERED GLASS.

synopsis. if you thought your curiosity would ebb away once you saw the vampire with your own eyes, you were wrong. oh so wrong—

— for curiosity did kill the cat.

and so it is, killing you from the inside, his name engraved into your nerves and a sickly chanting in your mind going on and on for eternity.

contents. satoru gojo x gn!reader. vampire!satoru. fantasy. horror. grotesque imagery. there’s potentially disturbing imagery in this one during the end. <- is quite literally the horror genre who am i kidding. reader is sort of numb and longing. ah yes pining 101. satoru being a cryptic FREAK. immense background building i fear.

word count. 2.3k ish

★ jiah’s notes. please have faith in me that toru will get more interactions with reader in future chapters 🙏🏻 trust the process, yeah ?

series masterlist.

000 — your name suffocates my guts, please don’t stop staring.

the wood of the counter feels a little too smooth.

had it always been this barren? deprived of any aesill or two dumped onto its body, so much so that it’s forgotten what it felt like to have some weight over it. some sort of ground, some sort of need. that it was wanted. like those human hands caressing its skin, the bronze kissing its face, the gold slumbering sweetly on its nose hadn’t been a figment of its imagination.

or maybe, it’s just you sitting at it, chin resting on your knuckles and eyes unfocused.

no. it’s the table, surely. missing something that it’d taken for granted earlier.

(it’s you, something coos right back. you hate how right it is. you hate how it makes you want to look back over your shoulder even though you know just rusty spines of books will stare back.)

but it’s comical, really.

how you miss the weight of something on your shop’s counter while longing for the weight crushing your ribs to disappear.

what had been a dull ache is now a ravenous sting, sharp claws and bared teeth sinking into your bones every time you catch a glimpse of something blue.

blue, blue, blue.

(you’d never hated the colour more.)

blue is the book that rests on the table adjacent to yours, a poor mimicry of the weight that you want so much. blue is the smoke when you look outside the frosty windows, so wispy as it frolics about the streets, sneaking its way to places where it shouldn’t be. blue is the tint on the lone aurcel that lays abandoned in the deepest, darkest corner of the rickety drawer of one of the bookshelves, stained with something so irremovable that it doesn’t have a trace of its true worth anymore.

(blue is the mark over your heart which the vampire’s teeth had left behind.

so beautifully vile that you want it all over you.)

is this what it was like? what he felt, all the time?

to be the root of rotten rumours, to be nothing but something on the tip of a stranger’s tongue, something to repel gazes by simply taking in a breath, something so painfully morbid and dirty that you might just infect someone with a disease yet unknown just by staring.

(just a medium, nothing else.)

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve stared at the front door of the shop. once worried, eager eyes have now transformed into something much more defeated, something much more. . resigned.

and yet, you’re the whisper that moulds itself into the blue smoke in the deepest cracks of the street.

(and before you know it, you’re met with so many yous, yous which you hadn’t seen in the dreams drawn by the most delirious delusions.)

sometimes, you is the drawl on a middle aged man’s tongue, exaggerated and envious, horrified intrigue slicing through your veins and holding you still for speculation that you don’t remember giving consent to.

sometimes, you is the hushed whisper of an old dame— mind you, she’s a little sick in the head— piteous and patronising, woeful eyes so full of misery that you might just be buried six feet under by now.

sometimes, you is the panicked yell of a child, who refuses to look at anything remotely resembling a bright blue, trembling hands already clamping your vision shut, too scared to look at at fear, even if it was simply the sky outside.

you, you, you.

(suddenly, it’s all about you.)

you and the dazed look in your eyes, you in that rusty, abandoned bookshop of yours, you trapped in the web that you created yourself and you who wonders what went wrong.

(you, who’s still miraculously alive after seeing the vampire.)

some might deem you as a hero, something otherworldly— too divine to be touched by the rot, too pure to be tainted by something diabolical— while some cast you petrified stares and sharp glances, utterly, utterly convinced that you’re some dark message, a sign, a warning that doom shall take over the town.

(a god to one, while a beast to another.)

it’s almost laughable.

while one part of the town wants to fall to your feet and kiss your holy skin, the other part wants to burn you down for being connected to something as vile as the vampire.

and yet, both of them ponder over the same, impossible question—

(— how did you survive? the never ending blue? the piercing white? the sheer dread creeping around your nape like a silent predator?)

you don’t know, either.

you wish you knew. but at the same time, it’s better off that you don’t.

(it won’t be as fun then.)

so, here you are— neither in heaven, nor hell.

(just somewhere in between, with strings through your skin, swishing about this way and that; whatever fancies the people’s whims, just a miserable little marionette with empty eyes and an empty pocket.)

your eyes close and you inhale.

you’ve been doing that quite often now.

taking in air, simply feeling what it’s like to breathe. it doesn’t help that the air reeks of dusty words and atrocious accusations, but at least you’re breathing.

(or that’s what you try to tell yourself.)

breathe, the voice beneath your lungs says, breathe, you’re still human.

(or are you?)

your feet arise from their slumber and guide you with gentle, pitying whispers to the back of your shop, to your room.

right.

(the mirror.)

you’ve been watching the mirror a lot lately, too.

(you know you don’t look like a human anymore.)

your gaze is far too much like a void now. like pools of nothingness trying to take away every single hint of blues with frantic, desperate hands— grabbing onto it and cradling it against their chest like something too precious to share.

your lips are parched, and you’re only just aware of how dry your insides seem— as if a drought dressed in an expensive coat with crisp white hair has dried it all up— burning them to nothing but a crisp, leaving the taste of ashes on your tongue.

(what has he done to you?)

one name, just one name.

so unbelievably smooth on your dry mouth and so unbearingly blinding to your lost eyes—

satoru gojo.

maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t told you his name. you would’ve dismissed it all as a figment of your imagination. a distant fever dream, something quite unrelated to the real world, something that one can never think of happening.

(something that cannot be real.)

but it is. very real, infact. it burns itself through your teeth and kisses your eyes to make them water, it delves deep into your skin and fills your lungs with dust, it curls up in your mind and chews away at the little sanity you have left.

it could have been easier.

it would have been easier, if only he hadn’t slipped his name between your ribs, right over the damned little bloom whose roots sank a little deeper into the marrow of your body.

but then again, you aren’t any different.

you still do look for a glimpse of blue in every little thing, even if you despise it. even if the teeth sink deeper into your bones. you still do.

(because, oh, what will you be without it?)

earlier, it was just flimsy mortal declarations and hushed caution that kept the shadow of the vampire alive, even if not himself.

but now?

you’d seen him.

no grated voices, no prideful musings. pure and unadulterated, with snow on his hair and the sky in his eyes, you’d seen all of him— the vampire, the vampire who left nothing but aurcels and his name behind.

no one to intervene.

(just you and him and you and him and you and him.)

your soles cry out in protest when you put your worn out shoes back on again. a mumbled apology leaves your lips, but you’re not sure whom it is addressed to.

(you let it hang in the air for anyone to claim, anyway.)

“ah, you’re here,” your head snaps up and your heart lurches— what? it couldn’t be—

(your eyes meet the blue.)

bile rises to your throat, but it pushes itself back down, crawling its way back home down your throat.

this blue is of the oceans. it doesn’t shine blindingly bright— it’s somehow much softer, yet it pins you in place, a needle thrust through your chest.

(it doesn’t turn everything and everyone else in its wake blue, either.)

you clear your throat.

“sorry,” you rasp, and you internally wince at how raspy, how unused your voice sounds, “i. . . went to fetch some papers back there. is there something i can. . help you with?”

“certainly,” the man quips, eyes half covered by the hat he wears. the blue doesn’t consume you, it simply holds you steady, as if keeping a frightened animal from running away. “i’d like to purchase this book.”

you hear the counter sigh dreamily when finally, finally a weight dips on it, your eyes blankly watching as dusty fingers seem to wrap themselves around the rickety spine of the book, too frantic and wanting, too needing and eager.

“two hundred aesills,” you mutter.

(a snarky voice at the back of your mind along with satoru gojo mocks you for being envious of an inanimate little table.)

choosing to ignore it, no, forcing yourself to ignore it, you fish out the yellowing parchment from its drawers, opening it with more force than required— a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction settling into your guts when you hear the wood creak in protest.

(look at you, satoru gojo coos, and the snarky voice snickers, too, reduced to such a eager little heap of pure longing, all because i looked into your eyes and spared you my name.)

“your name?”

your hands shake a little, and you tighten your grip over the quill you’re holding, the rigid shaft digging into your skin somehow keeping you from falling into shambles.

“fyodor murphy,” he hums, “the book’s name is ‘come find me’.”

(a pause.)

“ah, i’ve already noted that down,” you say, peering at him over the the bridge of your nose without raising your head, “saw it earlier.”

“my mistake, i apologize,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach upto his eyes. “still, the book is simply such an enigma amongst its counterparts in the genre that it— goodness me, it simply cannot be spoken about enough.”

(something isn’t right.)

“oh?” you say, your gaze dipping back to the scrawl over the parchment instead, “you seem rather. . . passionate about it.”

it makes you uneasy, that sharp smile on the man’s face. like he knows something that you don’t.

(it isn’t the uneasy that satoru gojo makes you feel. this one doesn’t consume you whole, it just lingers about in the cracks within your bones, as if waiting for you to do something before pouncing.)

“i am,” he says, and his laugh echoes in the air, bouncing off the ancient bookshelves right back to your face, so overwhelming yet tame, “rostislava silva is an excellent author. i must say, i am quite an enthusiast about macabre mentions in literature in general, but her works are the thing that keeps me on my toes. ah, the joys of obsession and reading it in the most beautifully grotesque way possible.”

it feels a little off, how he rambles on.

like he’s pointing at the title again and again and again, hinting at something that you have no knowledge about.

(yet.)

“and then there’s of course the sheer naming of the—”

(come find me, come find me, come find me.)

“i beg your pardon,” you say, rising to your feet, a strained smile on your lips, “but that’d be two hundred aesills, please.”

(a pause.)

“why, of course,” you hate the way he doesn’t look even remotely offended at your light jab, “of course. my apologies.”

with the copper coins dumped at your counter and the damned book in his hand, the man dissolves with the blue mist outside your abode, never to be found again.

(but he still stays on in your head, slowly beginning to ease his way inside your wounds.)

come find me, someone whispers in your ear and you flinch. come find me.

come find me. come find me. come find me.

come—

find—

me.

(no.)

come find me, snickers the ocean blue.

you barely swallow the lump in your throat before you’re scrambling to your feet once more, eyes wild and lips parted as your trembling fingers take hold of the dusty cover of the book at the shelf behind you, only for the ragged papers to scream the words right back at you—

— come find me.

“no,” you rasp, voice barely audible whilst you shake like a leaf in a storm, legs feeling numb, “no, no, no, no—”

a different book. yes, a different book. it won’t have those words, won’t have that title, it won’t yell back at you—

“come find me,” the woman in the book says, inky eyes unseeing at the second paragraph of the page, and you drop it to the floor.

(no, no, no.)

“come find me,” sing the children’s rhymes, and you feel a sob tearing itself out of your throat.

(come find me, they sing, happy little voices somehow distorted into uglier, rotten versions of themselves by the dust settling over them.)

“come find me,” says the man in the journal, sharp eyes staring through your soul, and your heart thunders against your ribs, a frightened little rabbit trying to escape from its own burrow.

so, so blue that you feel the wispy mist start to sneak in through the cracks in the windowsill to your right.

“come find me,” you choke out, and your body barely makes a noise when everything goes black.

(or else i will, satoru gojo croons into your ear, softly kissing you and the flower in your bones good night.)

★ taglist. @deathofacupid / @descargueestoporgojosatoru . (comment to be added !)

@d3cay1ngst4tic on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.

[horoscope1078]

:)

Ferran burst through Pedri’s front door, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and a look of mild panic on his face. “How is he?” he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet apartment.

Pedri’s best friend, and Ferran’s hopeless crush, you, appeared from the kitchen holding a bowl of steaming soup. You raised an eyebrow at Ferran. “It’s just the stomach flu, not the plague. You didn’t have to sprint over like it’s a life-or-death situation.”

Ferran ignored your teasing and dropped his bag onto the floor. “Where is he? I should’ve brought, like, I don’t know, ginger tea or... something. Does he need anything?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale. He’s in his room.” you replied with a smile, motioning toward the hallway. “But brace yourself. He’s being dramatic.”

The two of you made your way to Pedri’s room, where the young midfielder was sprawled across his bed like a fallen soldier. His hair was a mess, his face pale, and a bucket sat ominously by his bedside.

“Finally...” Pedri croaked, clutching his stomach as though he’d been fatally wounded. “My rescuers. I thought I’d perish alone.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Ferran said, crossing his arms.

“You look terrible.” you chimed in, setting the soup on Pedri’s nightstand. “Eat this. It’ll help.”

“I can’t eat.” Pedri groaned dramatically. “I’ll die if I eat.”

“Then don’t eat. That’ll make things easier.” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“Wow” Pedri said, his voice heavy with mock betrayal. “This is the woman you’re in love with, Ferran? Her bedside manner is atrocious.”

Ferran froze like a deer caught in headlights. “What?” he spluttered, his cheeks burning.

Pedri smirked, clearly enjoying himself despite his misery. “What? Did I say something wrong? My bad.”

You glanced at Ferran with a quizzical expression, then back at Pedri. “Is the fever making you hallucinate? Because I’m starting to think we should call a doctor.”

“No fever, just vibes.” Pedri mumbled, suppressing a laugh that turned into a weak cough. “Anyway, Ferran, you’re blushing. She’s going to figure it out, you know. Just confess already.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you.” Ferran said hastily, grabbing a pillow from Pedri’s bed and gently shoving it over his friend’s face.

“Mmph!!” came Pedri’s muffled protest before Ferran relented.

“Seriously, though, are you two finally going to get together, or am I going to have to set you up while I’m half-dead?” Pedri asked, his voice slightly strained but full of mischief.

Ferran turned to you, his hands raised defensively. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

You just laughed, a soft sound that made Ferran’s stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the flu. “Ignore him.” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s clearly delirious. Let’s just focus on making sure he survives the next 24 hours.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re ignoring the elephant in the room?” Pedri wheezed, clutching his blanket. “How convenient.”

“Do you want me to dump this soup on your head?” you threatened, holding up the bowl.

Pedri groaned and leaned back against his pillows. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m right. And you two are boring.”

Ferran muttered something under his breath and pulled up a chair by the bed. “How about we talk about you instead? Like how you ended up getting sick.”

Pedri pointed accusingly at Ferran. “It’s your fault.”

“Mine?” Ferran said, genuinely offended. “What did I do?”

“You dared me to eat that stupid hot sauce at the team dinner.”

Ferran blinked. “That was two days ago.”

“And now I’m dying. Cause and effect.” Pedri said solemnly, waving a weak hand in the air.

“I don’t think that’s how stomach flu works.” you interjected with a laugh.

“Don’t take his side.” Pedri grumbled. “Traitor.”

As the hours passed, the three of you fell into an easy rhythm, Pedri alternating between whining and dozing, you alternating between nurturing and sarcastic, and Ferran trying his best not to combust every time your hands brushed while you tidied up or handed Pedri water.

At one point, while Ferran was distracted fluffing Pedri’s pillows, Pedri stage-whispered to you “He’s obsessed with you, y'know. Talks about you all the time. It’s unbearable.”

Ferran dropped the pillow on Pedri’s face again.

“What was that?” you asked innocently, pretending not to hear.

“Nothing!” Ferran said quickly.

“Everything...” Pedri groaned from under the pillow. “He’s hopelessly in lo..”

Ferran snatched the pillow away just as Pedri dissolved into another coughing fit.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re awfully jumpy today, Ferran.”

“Just tired.” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

By the end of the day, Pedri was visibly better, well enough to start texting their teammates about how Ferran had nearly fainted when you smiled at him.

“Why are you typing so furiously?” Ferran asked suspiciously.

“Oh, just telling Gavi how you..”

“Give me that!” Ferran lunged for the phone, but Pedri held it out of reach, laughing weakly but victoriously.

You sighed, shaking your head as you watched the two of them wrestle. “You guys are impossible.”

Pedri smirked at you. “He’s impossible. I’m a delight.”

“You’re an instigator.” you corrected.

“And yet” Pedri said with a grin “you’re still here. Wonder why that is.”

You didn’t answer, but the faint blush on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by Ferran, who was suddenly feeling a lot more hopeful.

As the evening wound down and Ferran packed up to leave, Pedri gave him a sly look. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”

Ferran groaned, grabbing the nearest blanket and throwing it over Pedri’s head.

But as he glanced back at you, catching you smiling softly at him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe Pedri’s meddling wasn’t so bad after all.

---

Did y'all miss me? ;) I was busy and out of fiction ideas until learning Pedri got stomach flu. Hope he's okay now.

[ihatedtoadmit]

One-way ticket

pairing: vampire! Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive, again

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: Your relationship with your otherworldly boyfriend has reached a point of no return, something you embrace with open arms.

a/n: I blame @writingforstraykids for this, again, as she made me watch Railway and reignite my love for vampire AUs, even though I'm still deeply buried in my werewolf brainrot. So take this thing I wrote at 2 am in a delirious haze, that song blasted into my ears directly with such force I now have the lyrics engraved into my brain.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

Fascination had always driven me as I lived my life, surroundings endlessly housing something interesting enough for me to poke at, to unravel it and see how it ticked. Never once did I harm something in the process though, tenderly handling each animal as I observed them, always told I look like a child on Christmas night with the nebula of stars that had crawled into my eyes.

He’d said the same thing the first time we had met, truly met, real identity revealed for me to know. It had been a huge step in the connection we had shared, and it had only deepened this endless love I harboured for the man.

His smile alone was enough to lighten my day, sharp canines glinting in the light and yet I only found them all the more endearing, a fact he’d never failed to point out with the most love-sick expression I had ever seen.

It was a casual night when he’d beckoned me over to the couch where he sat, pulling my taller form down into his lap easily. With one hand on one of my knees and the other on the small of my back, he stared up into my surprised eyes, only chuckling at my reaction with that stupidly attractive dimpled smile of his.

“Did you know, love, that those silly stories about vampires aren’t all wrong?” - he started, immediately gaining my full attention. His smile only grew as he knew what buttons to push to earn it this fast, knowing me more than I knew myself at this point.

Being together for a few years granted that advantage to a person.

“What did you guys call it? Soulmates, I think? We do have that, or something similar at least. It’s a pull towards the one person we are connected to for eternity, unable to ignore or ever get rid of it. They’re the other halves of our souls we had lost in the afterlife, carved apart for having chosen immortality.”

His gaze never once wandered from me and I relished in it, drinking it all in like a starved animal. Every word was etched into my brain and I leaned closer, one hand carefully reaching up to cup Chan’s face. He leaned into my touch as my thumb caressed the skin residing underneath those bright, wine red and hauntingly white orbs, their shine temporarily hidden as he closed them in bliss.

“You’re my other half, my love. Knew it the moment our eyes met, the moment you didn’t run away when I revealed my true nature and instead looked at me with more love.”

His whispered words clearly rang inside my head despite the intense focus I had over his features, getting lost in his stare. It was as if he was worshipping me, memorising every little feature of my face, of my presence itself.

I didn’t move away when he leaned in, our lips sealed together, a rare act from someone as reserved as me. The hold he had on me only tightened and it told me everything I needed to know, his appreciation for this unique moment shared with me through our fleeting kiss.

“I want to share eternity with you, baby. Want to have you by my side forever, watch every sunset together until the universe itself ends.”

His words, albeit as cheesy as they could be, only spurred this burning feeling inside my chest that sparked from nothing. No, not nothing. It was created by that loving look in his eyes, the one that craved me in every possible way; both in body and in mind.

My limbs moved before I could even think about a coherent reply, weight shifting as our legs were now pressed close together, bodies facing each other. His face, the one that never once turned away from me, was framed by both my hands and he acted as if he wanted nothing less than that.

It was as if he wanted his entire body to be framed by my presence itself, so enamoured with me it hurt to witness.

A thumb gently pushed at his lips until his jaw opened slightly, sharp canine revealed and glinting in the vermillion liquid I coated it with. The wound on my finger stung and yet I could care less, much too focused on the man in front of me, the one my heart beat for with all its stubborn might.

His pupils widened the moment my blood hit his tongue, the only answer he needed before he spurred into action.

The inferno inside me only burned brighter when he picked me up, not strained by my weight at all. And as he carried me away, tenderly placing me onto our shared bed, I understood what he meant by that pulling feeling. It laid beneath that raging fire, overshadowed by its sudden and unusual appearance.

Despite that, it remained firmly in its place, so tied to Chan’s presence that living without the man caused my heart to nearly stop beating.

As if he’d heard my heart skipping a beat he moved, so close I could feel the chill from every inch of his skin that covered his dead body. His lips ghosted over my heated skin as he trapped me beneath himself, trailing along the veins pulsing just beneath my skin, hidden to us, mere humans, yet oh so obvious to his kind. It had always fascinated me how he could see them so well, so easily, yet I had only gotten a chuckle and a teasing answer whenever I’d asked, hiding his secrets away from me.

This time that same question couldn’t even leave my lips as he devoted every little touch to me and only me, his reverence so strong I could hear their words even without a single sound.

Fangs grazed my neck and goosebumps covered my skin, a little kiss my comfort the moment he noticed it. Despite that he continued, gazing up at me one final time, allowing me to see those irresistible depths turn brighter; vermillion mixed with burgundy while the whites shifted, painting my sight with endless mismatched roses swaying in the wind.

The pull inside me strengthened and the flower fields were disturbed, gentle swaying now turning violent, yet never once harming me with a single thorn.

His lips kissed the side of my neck and the muscles hidden beneath jumped at the sudden contact, the gentle action broken by sharp pain and the feeling of loss. My hands encircled him and travelled into his divine bangs, only turning them messier with each audible gulp he took.

Never once did fear take root inside my chest, my lover’s actions so gentle they felt nothing less than a ritual of worship, of devotion, only meant for me to bear witness to.

And as the world started growing dark, vision wavering and hold turning weak, those lips I knew oh so well left my neck, leaving a tiny lick and a kiss before familiar eyes met mine. He hovered above me like that, hand going up to cup my cheek as I stared at him, at those wonderful rose fields, and his expression only turned more loving in return, if possible at all.

Those endlessly starving orbs were the last thing I saw before my eyes fluttered closed, unable to keep myself awake with the sudden wave of exhaustion that swept over me. I didn’t realise how much he’d drank, just how much he had truly taken in such a short amount of time, and yet I trusted him completely even on death’s door.

The taste of iron lingered on my tongue as something dripped into my mouth, fingers careful as they pushed my lips open forcefully. It dripped down my throat and my body automatically took it in, as if embracing a missing piece I didn’t even know was needed.

Chilled air hit the shell of my ear as Chan leaned closer, the liquid fusing with my soul itself and stirring awake something I had long lost.

“Wake up, love, the night’s only just begun.”