#i have a cold (sore throat and eyes feeling like an allergic reaction) and got a pie too - ate my beef pie and was like Ohhhhh DESSERT!!

[jay-wasreblogging]

I ordered a donut from work before I ended my shift. I took my donut. Sat down at the tables waiting to be picked up. I placed my bag and donut on the table annnnnnd left my donut on the table.

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: you finally have to close the deal with the devil and you meet with Hongjoong one last time before becoming a married woman. you also decide to postpone a honeymoon for another time.

word count: 2010+ , tags: angst

characters: ateez (ensemble), fem!reader

⤩ CHAPTER 2 ⤩

character list . prologue . one

Turns out Jongho had a thing for weeding out the imperfections, flaws in a woman. It was easy for him, arriving no later than 11 in the morning to join both you and San after your dress fitting to do your hair.

“I can fix the hair.” The city turned country gangster’s lips grimace at the dark bags under your drooping eyes. “The makeup.. you’ll have to do on your own, sweetheart.”

You clutch on the silver necklace he’s handed you before he put his hands on your head, the thought of blessing Seonghwa with an engagement gift beyond your intentional rights. You play with the small compass charm between your fingers and gaze at your reflection in the mirror.

So you look like complete shit: lack of sleep, lack of encouragement, lack of pride. This was you in your most pitiful state and the boys could only spare mercy in your absence of excitement. You’ve always dreamed about family and weddings— the trends in modern life you were never entitled to try. Seonghwa was already giving you parts of the world you’ve always wanted and you couldn’t hate him for that. The arrangement however was something you’ll have to hold against him.

“You look beautiful.” Yunho nods in your direction after Jongho fluffs at your curled hair. “Y/n, you do. Now stop frowning and making it worse.”

You let out an upheaval sigh. “Remind me again why I have to dress up for such a casual occasion.”

San scoffs from the side still nitpicking his sleek suit. “This is your wedding, y/n. Have some respect for yourself. It’s the least you can do.”

“It’s a wedding with a man I don’t even want. And he said so himself this was more a partnership than ties of love.” You force yourself to retort in the nicest way possible. “Seonghwa has good intentions and that’s great. But my place in his heart is not something I earned and I’m far from pleased.”

“You rather woo Seonghwa? Then do it, at least, after your wedding.” Yunho charmingly places his chin over your shoulder to face you in the mirror. “This wedding is passed formalities but something he sought good for the both of you. He wants you to feel comfortable and that’s leeway enough to your heart. Accept it as it is and maybe you won’t get shot.”

You hear it so many times, you ponder over thought of maybe wanting to get shot at this point. Why was Seonghwa so prideful? What else was he hiding?

“The day he ever wants to shoot me is the day I end this partnership of his he claims is good for the both of us.”

The trio behind you pause in their movements and let your answer sink in. It’s not everyday they get to see a woman get ready to marry a man they assume to be their best friend. It certainly isn’t every day they get to see a woman as beautiful as you sit in front of them with a personality as fierce as their empty hearted boss. Although they’re intimidated, they feel a particular sense of relief knowing you’re fully aware of your circumstances. They didn’t sign up for meddling in an innocent life though you’re far from innocent.

“We have to meet some of our partners..” San clears his throat as you fumble with the jewelery in your hand. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we leave you with your thoughts for a bit.”

“Not at all.” please.

They hum in response before setting out prompt, your thoughts a little more blind in your head than they think. You look in the mirror after they leave and think to yourself that you’re just a penny of satisfaction. The best way for you to accept all this is to breathe and let it go. It’s gotten you this far.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice echoes through the slit of the door. “If you haven’t tried killing yourself already.”

Your eyes light up like a child on Christmas Day. “Hongjoong.”

His lips quirk at your tone of admiration. “You look beautiful, babe.”

Your own lips quiver and you’reholding back the years of tears. “Can you hug me please? Just this once?”

He sighs softly before coming over to take you into his arms. The homey embrace of someone you trusted— no someone who trusts you was enough to end some misery. The one thing Seonghwa could grant you that you’d thank him for was this. Hongjoong was far from what you deserve but he’s someone you wished you could have. Life served you another platter and you can’t just complain and ask for a refund.

“Of all the years I’ve known you, y/n, seeing you in a wedding gown would be the last thing I’d ever imagine.”

You roll your eyes at the city mobster before turning in your chair. “I’m surprised he let you imagine let alone show up today.”

Hongjoong presses his lips together and fumbles with his tie. “There’s a lot of things you’d be surprised by.”

You sniffle mostly to undermine all the overwhelming thoughts in your head. Hongjoong sees right through you though.

“I’m sure Seonghwa’s got good intentions. Despite the fact, obviously, I’m not all for the things he does—Beyond what he does, y/n, he’s a good guy.”

You scoff his way, looking elsewhere in your reflection afraid of his words.

“Are you here to patronize the enemy some more or walk me down the aisle?”

He chuckles wholeheartedly, coming over to plant a reassuring kiss on the top of your head. Where your father lacked, Hongjoong picked up. You can’t name a single man— no person on this planet who has made you whole enough as Hongjoong does and maybe why Seonghwa is threatened. Hongjoong is a force no one is reckoned to feel accustomed to. The city monster had ties everywhere. Feeling sorry for your father was one thing; feeling sorry for you was little of what the truth was.

“You are a gem.” He annunciations through a genuine smile. “Be it Seonghwa nor I aren’t lucky to have. You’re a blessing.”

You look into Hongjoong’s eyes with a type of everlasting loyalty you can’t define. “How can you be okay with Seonghwa having me? I was already yours..”

“Your father was mine and I let you have the benefit of the doubt.” His comment sharpens at the end.

“Losing him was nothing but means to end for you. Don’t act like it was more than that.” You try to rebuttal.

“It was something I didn’t like but it sure as hell made you happy. And so I heard.”

Hongjoong’s very casual. He likes to be hands on in a moment and is, trend wise, very different from your future husband. It’s not like you loved Hongjoong romantically or anything. It just felt wrong to need to love someone else that’s all.

“Walk down the aisle.” He whispers again against the crown of your ear, hand hovering over your bare shoulders with hesitance and grace. “I’ll always be right here when you need me the most.”

It’s some misdirection partly. Also partly your fault that you’ve gotten here. Now you’re walking down an aisle with Southside’s very own devil standing at the alter awaiting you. You don’t look back on purpose. That and Hongjoong’s grip right beside is not one on par with a fatherly gesture. Hongjoong probably wanted to wring Seonghwa for what it’s worth too.

“Past formalities?” Hongjoong mumbles when you two get one step closer to the end of your suicide mission.

“Definitely past that.”

“Knock em dead, sweetheart.”

Let the party commence.

There was little shared words between you, your new husband, and the pastor. With what seemed like false devotion and empty promises, the wedding reception began. You two sat together on a podium where it’s pretty obvious Seonghwa’s treated like royalty. You were right in his district and with first impressions comes clear boundaries to be made. He wanted you to know where he stands. You two sat together as husband and wife but complete strangers. It was awkward watching the sight of men come and go to prove that Seonghwa was nothing but a merciless mafia boss. The gifts weren’t even of your benefit either.

Hongjoong left early (something you’ll press against him some other day forward) and you were stuck thinking about when this cursed day was going to end. Somehow someway it did and you were in a car fraternizing with the enemy this time.

“— So you married me instead?”

The air gets thick. It almost gets so thick you think you’re getting some type of allergic reaction to his face in the confinement of his wide vehicle. Staring at him was no gut wrenching eye sore but it’s not something you were used to just yet. Seonghwa’s eyes matched the color of war— red with fury and relent. There was something there that his calm tone didn’t quite express to it’s fullest capability.

“You’d rather be dead?”

His coldness reflected on you. It’s probably your body’s natural mechanism of defense coming to play because you’re sure as hell you’re not gonna let some man control you for the rest of your life. No, you may not get that right to speak up and say something that might as well get you killed but you still aren’t gonna let him walk all over you.

“Are you gonna get out of your dress or did you want me to strip you out of it for you instead?”

His tone persists as he emerges from the bathroom to see you sitting on solemn. You glance up tiredly at the cheeky bastard who’s lips perk at your attention. You look away without a word at all before taking your dress off without further notice.

His throat clams up at the sight, unsure of how long his self constraint would last even for the night. The sight of your broadened narrow shoulders— bare and ready to taste— was something he was definitely not prepared for. His hands tremble as the damp towel between his fingers drops and you glance to look at him.

“Tempted?” You rasp in the most taunting voice you could fabricate. “Mind me, but you asked if I was going to get out of my dress, Seonghwa. I’m showing you that I can follow basic instructions, was that not what you asked of me? Of this partnership.”

He chokes on that, jaw clenched. “Pressing my buttons, honey, is not something I suggest you test.”

You hold your dress up back to your chest as you turn to face him. “I’m just letting you know what kind of wife you gambled to marry, my sweet husband.”

He nearly screams the moment you slam the bathroom door. Not realizing on both sides that either of you were ready to combust. You shower the anger, the resentment away and Seonghwa just lays back on his bed staring at the bathroom door.

He needs to stay away from you at any time possible. Until he learns to control himself at least. Living with a woman, a woman of his absurd dreams, was proving itself difficult. You weren’t just gonna give yourself up to him just like that either.

“Sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.” Is all he says before turning on his back when you shut the lights off.

You stare at it. Like the night before when he got in bed without even saying a word, feeling cold.

“J-Just me?” You ask propped still on your elbow in the dark.

“I have business to take care of in the city. You’ll have San and Yunho tomorrow.” His voice lulls deeper as he’s getting pulled to his exhaustion. “It’s training you have to endure just in case. Hongjoong informed me you never took part in your father’s extravaganza’s and I need to know my wife is safe while I leave.”

“You want me to learn how to fight?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

[itsthestutterforme]

Redeemed (Supernatural)

Redeemed Circuit 1/4

Y/N was previously tortured by Dean while he had the mark of cain. They thought she was a demon that worked for Abbadon. Turns out, she was just a human with an allergy to oil. A year later, Y/N was actually a prophet and the Winchester need her to find a way to trap Michael from the other world

Characters: Dean Winchester x POC!reader, Sam x reader, Castiel x reader

--

"Please, I'm telling you that truth!" Y/N begs as Dean scraped his ugly blade against her clavicle. Sharp stings littering her body and extends to every cut that he made. They speak of Abbadon and demons. At first she called them psychos and high off their asses if they wanted her to believe that demons were real. It wasn't until she saw Dean's eyes flicker black that fear struck her silent.

These cuts and oil burning have been going on for days, and at this point, she wanted to beg for death. "You're going to tell me where Abbadon is," "I don't know where or who Abbadon is, I swear."

Her throat scratches against itself of soreness from her long screams. She was barely able to keep her eyes opened. He grabs her face and pulls her inches away from his.

"You disgust me," he insults before leaving the room. She winced as he slams the door shut and tears pricked her eyes for the hundredth time. The door creaks up but she doesn't bother lifting her head.

Footsteps near her and hand touches her arm. She pulls away from his rough, calloused hands. "Wait a minute, these are- Dean!" "No, please, don't bring him back here." She pleads. "It's alright, honey, I'm so sorry I didn't catch this sooner."

"I'm starting to think she doesn't know anything, we should just kill her." Dean says, making her whimper lightly. "No, look. She's breaking out into hives. She's have an allergic reaction, she's not a demon." Sam says.

She looked up at Sam through swollen eyes as he pulls her wrists and ankles from their restraints. "I'll get the first aid kit," Dean says before leaving the room again. "I am so sorry." "No, let me.. leave me at the hospital." "At the severity of your wounds, you won't make it to the hospital," Sam explains. "I'll take my chances,"

"Listen, I'll.. how about I help you. He doesn't have to touch you." She shakes her head and pushes him away. "Take me to the hospital or let me die." That was the last thing she said before blacking out completely.

A constant beep of a monitor is the only thing she hears. Her eyes slowly peel open to see her brother, Y/B/N holding his face in his hands. He must of heard her sit up because his head shot up and met her eyes with his red, puffy ones. "Y/N? Oh my God," he stands from his chair and takes one of her hands into his.

"We've been looking for you everywhere. And everyone thought that you were.. I'm just glad you're okay." He wipes away his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. No words came to mind to say.

Ironic, really because her mind is blank but her body has plenty to say. Between the stitches, the IV and Dean's punches, getting ran over sounds like a dream right now.

**

Sam and Dean were tired of standing around waiting to find out when Castiel will find the new prophet that was called forth. They just came back from a hunt and settled down after taking their showers.

They need the prophet to translate the angel tablet they found in the other world.The world where Mary and Jack resided. Hopefully it will help defeat Michael who is definitely coming over here into this world. Castiel just came back from Heaven in search of the next prophet, and what do you know, it's Y/N.

Castiel sets the file down on the table in front of the Winchesters and they opened to see Y/N's picture. "Oh you've got to be kidding me," Dean says, running a hand over his face. "Wait, you know her?" "Yeah, she hates us." Sam says. "It doesn't matter, she has a duty as a prophet to provide what the Lord set out,"

"Believe me, she would rather jump off a bridge than help us." "I'll bring her here," "No!" Sam says, making Cas stop his movements. "Let me just. I'll pick her up. Just tell me where she is." "The last I sensed her, she was in Boise, Idaho," "Do you need any help?" "She won't go if you're there, Dean."

"I know, I just.." Dean trails off and his gazs falls to the floor. "Nevermind," he adds before walking off. "What happened between them?" Cas asks. Sam shakes his head and says, "You don't want to know,".

Sam packs a go bag and takes the Impala to get Y/N. He drives around bars and shops and finally found me walking out of the grocery store with brown, paper bags in my hand.

"Y/N," Sam says as he approaches her. She pulls her head out from under the car. When she sees Sam, her eyes widen and she pulls out her gun. She aims it at him and takes off the safety. "Whoa, whoa! I-I'm not here to hurt. I just need your help." She slightly lower her gun and look to the Impala for Dean.

"He's not here," he says and she puts the safety on before tucking it under her belt. "You okay?" Sam asks. She raised her index finger before reaching back into the car for a writing pad.

"Help for what?" She writes and showed him. "Did something happen to your voice?" "I made a vow," she writes. "Because of Dean?" he asks.

She didn't say anything but she pulls the writing pad closer to her chest. "Listen, there is something coming. Something bigger than all of us, an archangel. And he's coming here to lay waste to our world. We may have something to stop it but we can't read it without a prophet.

"I know. I've been having visions." She writes. He nods and she looks at him for a moment. Almost as if he read her mind, he says, "I will make sure that he leaves you alone." "He's your brother,"

"What we did was wrong, but this isn't about us. It's about the world." "I know," "So you'll help us?" She nods before writing, "I need to get my computer first,"

**

It's been weeks since she went to the bunker for the first time. Seeing Dean for the first time in years sent chills down her body. Everything that happened, everything that he did to her was still fresh in her mind.

She has nightmares every night and wake up. It took her months to make sure she didn't scream herself awake.

"I don't know, Dean." "Oh come on, I'm not going to do anything," Dean says. They think she plays music while have earphones on when she is translating the tablet on her computer. Well sometimes, she does.

Other times she just put it on to listen in their conversations. "You know how she acts when you even look at her too long," "We have to learn to work together, especially with Michael coming here,"

"What do you think she's doing? She didn't have to help us. She could have said screw you and left us to die. But she's pushing past things," "Sam, you're just going for a milk run. It's not that big of a deal. She'll be fine." Dean says.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoes through out the bunker. She hears Dean walks behind her and she could feel the hairs on her neck stand up.

"I know you can't hear me but, I have to say it. Words can't even begin to express how much guilt I have weighing on my chest. It's so heavy that I can't even breathe. I--" she stands up from the table and take off my earphones.

She locks eyes with him for the first time she got there. She shake her head and closed her computer before rushing into her room to lock the door behind her.

Why the hell do I feel bad for him? He's the one that made my life hell! He doesn't deserve my forgivness. She thinks to herself. She collapses on the bed and sigh when she heard her phone chiming.

She reaches over the bed and into the nightstand to look at who was it was. She clicked on her Y/B/N contact and opened a new message from him.

It was a man with glowing blue eyes mainly in the frame but in the very left top corner, she saw her brother beaten to a bloody pulp. The background seemed oddly familiar Fear shudders through her body and she could feel it starting to freeze over.

"DEAN!" She yells. That was the first time she spoke in two years. Heavy footsteps run towards her room and before she could stand to open the door, he kicks the door in.

She showed him the phone and his jaw clenches. "He has my brother," "He's already here. Did you find anything important on the tablet?" "Yeah, I'm practically finished. There's a scepter like weapon with angel grace in it. That's the only thing that kill him."

"Do you have no idea where it is?" "Not me, but your angel friend can," "Alright, pack a go bag and meet me in the garage in 10," She nods and pull open the drawers when Dean says, "And Y/N?"

"Yeah?" "We'll get him back." She doesn't say anything and continued to pack. They packed clothes and weapons before texting Sam her address to meet.

Within a couple hours, they arrived at her house and there was an eerie vibe about it. Dean wanted her to wait in the car until Sam got there but she couldn't wait while that son of a bitch was hurting her brother.

She ran inside and Dean followed her into went to the house. Blood was smeared all over the walls and windows. The house stenched of metal and rotting flesh. She found my brother with his skull cracked open in the kitchen.

She heart was barely able to take seeing him like that but when she saw her niece with bruises littering her neck, she lost it.

That son of a bitch strangled her to death. She must have been so scared. Y/N cradled her cold, limp body in her arms and smooth out her soft, curly hair. "I'm so sorry, honey." She stand up but her eyes don't leave the corpse. "I need a minute," "Whatever you need," he says before leaving the room.

Anger boils her blood and yells erupted from her chest. She rushed out of the room and kicked the couch forwards. She grabbed the lamp and throw it against the wall.

She picked up the nightstand and slamed it on the ground with a satisfying crack. She kicked the nightstand and into the corner and standing in front of the family portrait.

Her fist finds its way through the picture and she just kept punching and punching. She didn't care if the glass was piercing through the flesh of my hands.

Sam finally arrives at Y/N's house with Cas. "I'll check around the perimeter of the house," Cas says. Sam nods and asks, "Where's Y/N?" Right on cue, she yells out in anger.

"Y/N," Sam tries to walk into the house but Dean holds him back. "Give her a minute. She found the bodies of her brother and niece," Dean explains. Sam sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. "It's our fault," Sam says.

"I know. They would still be alive if she didn't help us," Dean says. "She's already been through enough," "He's gone. There's no trace of Michael." Cas says to them as he walks up the steps. "Damn it," Dean says.

Y/N is huddled in the corner with her bleeding hands. "Alright, Y/N, enough of this. There's only one thing left to do now." She stands up and walks out of the house. Their eyes fall to her hands and she noticed. "It's alright, don't worry about it." "We should at least cover it so it doesn't get infected." "I need to get this cleaned up," she says, motioning to the house.

"You don't have to do this alone, Y/N." "I'm used to it," she says, walking passed them and opening the garage. She pulls out a shovel and Sam gets in the way. "Y/N, please. Let us help," he explains.

"I know you feel guilty, but it's best if you leave. I'm not angry at you, I'm just tired of the people around me getting hurt." She looked from Sam to Dean and Dean steps closer to her.

"Well you're stuck with us. And we're all in." "Once I'm done here, I'm making sure Michael's head is on a pike. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Like I said, all in." Dean says. "Then start digging a pit at least a foot deep. We have to burn everything in that house." She says, handing them both a shovel.

"You've done this before?" Sam asks. "My brother did, and he told me in case something happened to him.." she trails off. "I'll get your hands cleaned up," Cas says, motioning to her hands. "Fine,"

[honeypwark]

[ Pad Thai ]

  ↳ Showcase: Star in US

       ↳ Kiryoung eats pad Thai. Yeonjun is distressed. Who knew Kiryoung is deathly allergic to peanuts?

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Thank you all so much for coming to our debut showcase, Star in US. Have you enjoyed the show so far?”

Soobin glances at Kiryoung and she nods encouragingly, giving no comments to show he made no mistakes. Soobin continues on with his scripted, English greeting as Kiryoung listens and eats from the takeout box of noodles in front of her.

Currently, the six members of TXT are on lunch break in the green room. Their show in Chicago is in two days, today being a tech rehearsal day and the next being a dress rehearsal as well as the day they’ll be going to see BTS. While the boys had been able to start eating right away, Kiryoung had needed to go to wardrobe and get her jacket refitted as it had been too big for the show in New York. Resizing is a typical thing with Kiryoung; she’s a lot smaller than the stylists expect which results in outfits that are too big.

The boys are finished eating, all but Soobin lying around the room lazily until they have to return to the stage. Kiryoung takes another bite of noodles before checking the time quickly. She gives her full attention to Soobin when she sees she has plenty of time to finish eating. She probably won’t even finish her whole box of food. One of the boys will eat whatever she leaves.

Suddenly, Kiryoung has a little difficulty breathing. She clears her throat, becoming aware of how hot she’s become. She grabs her water bottle and takes a sip but finds it does nothing to clear her throat. She feels herself growing dizzy.

“Bin,” she cut Soobin off, “What did we eat for lunch?”

“Uh, manager hyung said it was pad Thai, why?”

“Because pad Thai has peanuts on it.”

Soobin gets on his hands and knees to check Kiryoung’s food, “We got you one without peanuts, though.”

Even without moving any of the noodles around, Soobin can obviously see the chopped peanuts in the dish. Immediately, Soobin is on high alert.

“Soobin, I can’t breathe.”

“Okay, okay, okay, hang on.” Soobin stands and spins and several times, “Does anybody see Kiryoung’s bag?!”

The other boys look around.

“It’s right here; why are you freaking out?” Yeonjun says.

Soobin steps over Kai where he lies on the ground. He grabs Kiryoung’s bag from Yeonjun and start searching through is quickly, not offering an explanation to the older boy.

“Kiryoung, where is your epipen?!”

“Epipen?” Kai repeats.

“...man....manager......”

Everyone’s attention goes to Kiryoung as she goes into a coughing fit after attempting to talk. Soobin drops her bag and rushes back to her side.

“Kai, go find manager hyung and ask him about Kiryoung’s epipen.”

Kai hesitates confusedly.

“Now. Find him and come back as fast as possible, understand?”

“Y-Yeah, got it.”

Kai takes off running as Soobin uses the authoritative, leader tone he rarely ever does. Soobin situates himself so Kiryoung sits between his legs, letting her lean on him to stay upright.

“Kiko, you’re gonna be fine, just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing.”

Kiryoung has started coughing so much she can scarcely do just that. The three remaining boys in the room are all very concerned and confused. Yeonjun seems especially distressed at seeing Kiryoung’s state.

“What’s happening? Why is she- Is she okay?” Yeonjun asks.

“She’s really allergic to peanuts but she ate what was left probably because manager hyung is so good about not giving her anything with peanuts in it,” Soobin says. “We ordered one without peanuts so I don’t know why she got that one.”

Yeonjun feels his blood run cold. He’d taken the box of pad Thai without peanuts because he prefers the texture without them. He hadn’t known that it was for Kiryoung. Now his member is possibly dying because of him.

Kiryoung’s body is going into panic mode without enough oxygen getting in and she grabs around for something to hold onto. Soobin gives her his hand and she grabs onto it with both of her own. Moments like these are reminders of how small Kiryoung is compared to her members, both of her hands hardly able to cover one of Soobin’s.

Currently, Soobin is the calmest person in the room. He’s dealt with Kiryoung’s allergic reaction before. Though, admittedly, it wasn’t this bad last time. He also knows he needs to be as level headed as possible to take care of Kiryoung. He is still pretty freaked out by all this, though.

“Dammit, where is Kai with our manager?” Soobin curses.

Yeonjun has sat down on the couch with his hands clasped behind his head, incomprehensibly guilty. He is unable to watch as Kiryoung’s state gets worse by the second; he feels solely responsible for this happening to her.

The room falls quiet for just a moment as Kiryoung’s coughing fit stops. Soobin’s panicked voice replaces it.

“Kiko? Kiko! Dammit, Do Kiryoung!”

Kiryoung has gone completely limp against Soobin. Soobin situates her head against his shoulder so it will stay upright, checking her pulse under her jaw.

“What happened?” Beomgyu asks.

“Oh my god, did she just die?” Taehyung says.

“She can’t die!” Beomgyu exclaims.

“She didn’t die,” Soobin says, fake calm voice shaking, “I think she passed out because she couldn’t get enough oxygen; WHERE IS KAI?!!”

Seemingly summoned by Soobin’s bellow, Kai catches himself on the doorframe to stop his momentum. He stumbles over to Soobin and hands him an epipen, falling to his knees beside his leader, out of breath from running. Soobin rips the cap off with his teeth and jams the epipen into Kiryoung’s thigh without hesitation; she’d shown him how to use one.

For several long moments, the boys sit and wait in silence that is broken only by Kai’s labored breathing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When Kiryoung wakes, it’s in a hospital bed. She feels swollen and hot but no longer on the verge of suffocating. To her right is Soobin, his chair pulled as close to her bed as possible and his head resting on his arms on her bed. Out the window, the sky is dark. In the corner of the room, Kai sits in a chair while Taehyun and Beomgyu lean on him and the chair respectively, all of them fast asleep. To her left is Yeonjun, slumped down in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him and a hand holding his head up as he tries not to fall asleep like the others.

“Oppa.”

Kiryoung’s voice is a whisper, her throat hoarse and swollen from earlier. Regardless of how soft her call is, Yeonjun jerks awake, eyes immediately checking on her in the bed. He’s surprised to see her awake and blinks to rid himself of sleep.

“You’re awake!”

Kiryoung’s throat is sore and dry so she just gives a small nod.

“Time?” she asks simply.

Yeonjun checks his phone, “It’s, uh, three a.m.”

Kiryoung nods again and goes to shake Soobin awake.

“Wait.”

She stops when Yeonjun asks her to, turning her head back to look at him.

“I-... It’s my fault this happened. I took the pad Thai without peanuts because I didn’t know it was for you and I’m so sorry. If I had known you were allergic I wouldn’t have taken it. God, I’m so sorry. I give you crap all the time and I always pick on you and make fun of you because you’re short and easily flustered but you’re seriously such an amazing person and I appreciate being your friend and I would never intentionally hurt you in any way and I am so so sorry, Kiryoung.”

Yeonjun hangs his head like he’s ready to be scolded.

Kiryoung forgoes the discomfort of speaking in order to comfort Yeonjun, “You didn’t know, Yeonjun, and I don’t blame you.”

Yeonjun rubs his face with both hands and risks looking her in the eye again, “Thank you. I’m just- I’m really sorry. Why didn’t you tell us you were deathly allergic to peanuts?”

“It never came up.”

Yeonjun laughs, “God, I hate you.”

Kiryoung just smiles, “You okay?”

“I should be asking you that.”

She glares at him.

“Alright, alright. Yes, I’m fine. Soobin’s really mad at me, though.”

“If I’m not mad, he doesn’t have to be.”

“He’s all soft and caring with you but he can be scary sometimes. You should have seen him yelling at me earlier when I told him I took your food.”

“He’ll get over it.”

Yeonjun laughs, “Okay, but seriously. What kind of idiot doesn’t tell their group mates that they’re deathly allergic to something?”

And he’s back to his normal, teasing self.

[omnivorousshipper]

Can we have some Owen whump and angst please?

My time to shine 😈

Warning: chains, gags, sensory deprivation, imprisonment, kidnapping, slapping

~~~

Pain.

That's the only thing Owen could register as he tried to open his eyes. They felt almost glued shut as he pried them open, only to be met with pure darkness

He tried to swallow and found his throat swollen, sharp pain racing through his throat as his muscles tried to move. Taking a deep breath, Owen had the same result

He knew this sensation. It was the same one he felt when he had an allergic reaction

Blinking his eyes, Owen tried to recall what had happened and where he possibly could be

He had been out with a few friends at a pub, already a few drinks in. Their dinner had been brought out, but once Owen finished, he could vaguely remember his body breaking out in hives and his throat swelling

So it had been an allergic reaction

Moving his head around, Owen could feel that he was on a stone floor and not a hospital bed. A heavy and cold weight settled in his stomach as he took the information in

Someone had used his nut allergy to get him away from friends and into their greedy, little hands

But who did it?

With a quiet grunt of pain, Owen slowly rolled to his side, his limbs heavy and feeling almost disconnected. It was slow going as he finally got his arms underneath him and he sat up

Even though it was still pitch black, he could feel the world swimming. Biting down on his nausea, Owen reached his hand around him

A stone wall was behind him and nothing in front of him so far. Seemed like a typical cell to him

Leaning against the wall and trying to ignore the pain, the only thing he could do was wait

---

He had no idea how long had passed between him waking and the sound of a door creaking open

One moment he had been sitting in darkness, the ringing in his ears getting louder as the only noise he could hear was his ragged breathing. But then the next brought in shuffling and strong hands grabbing his arms

The pain and soreness running through Owen made him sluggish as he tried to fight the hands off

"You bloody bast- Mmph!"

Cold steel was shoved into his mouth and pressed down on his tongue. A strap was fastened around his head, pinching hair and skin as it was tightened

The hands were grabbing harshly at his arms and before Owen had enough time to react, they were being chained behind his back. His hands were placed on his elbows, thick manacles wrapping around his forearms

He struggled endlessly, kicking out at his intruders, but only receiving several slaps in response

With the gag in place and his throat still hurting, Owen found himself struggling to breathe. Lightheaded, his energy sapped, Owen's body fell limp in his captors' hands

A thick, metal collar was fastened around his neck and pulled tight until Owen stumbled back against a stone wall. He heard a finally click as the chain was connected to the wall

Immediately, Owen tried to pull away and found he could only move about a foot away from the wall before being choked by the collar

Panting harshly, Owen squinted through the darkness, but it was no use. He couldn't see anything

The cell had fallen silent again, save for his harsh breathing. But suddenly, the quiet shuffle of clothes joined in. Owen could sense someone in front of him and flinched harshly when a hand grabbed his chin

"We'll be having plenty of fun with you, Shaw." A deep voice rumbled, a note of dark amusement resounding through it. Owen suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine at the voice

The sounds of footsteps leading out for the cell were the last sounds Owen heard before the door slammed shut

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!

[harryff]

Sensory Overload

Your relationship Harry was relatively new less than year, over 6 months. A revelation during one of your dates he was into BDSM, you responded with interest.  Harry was a patient Dom, with you he took his time to teach  you all you needed to know to be a sub in general followed by being his sub. You almost regret saying that you were ready for Harry to hold nothing back, to  have his way with you the next time.  

It started the usual way undress get on your knees, followed by laying on his lap for spanks, today he bent you over to eat you from the back and when he felt that you were wet enough he added his fingers into the mix, you whimper and whine which resulted in more slaps to the ass telling you to be louder. You had been a bratty little sub earlier so instead of giving you what you wanted, he expected you to beg for it, make it up to him, and be a whimpering mess so he could have total control. 

Somewhere during the process your mouth is around his cock you don’t even remember getting back on your knees but here you are, deep throating the hell out of Harry. Hand in hair guiding you to his pace. Utters of ‘good girl’ escape his mouth often as his head tilts back. His groans and moans make you even more wet. There was nothing like hearing him express himself during pleasure.  The next thing you know you’re on your back and things were going good. Deep inside you teasing you bringing you to the edge then slowing down you were a blubbering mess. Until you felt the cold leather collar around your neck.

“Gotta teach yeh a lesson pet” he explains noticing your reaction. “Im sorry daddy” you apologize while you hold your legs apart as a good subby He leans down to kiss you before he straightens up,  his hand on the collar, he slips his fingers between  and pushes his cock deeper into you. He picks up his pace you feel an orgasm building once again. You moan in pleasure then there was the slap to the face. You’re on the verge of cumming but it takes you by surprise your hair is on your face so its not like Harry can really see your expression. He turns your face to the other side followed by another smack.

“Tell daddy you’re sorry” you can tell he’s reaching his climax too, but you can’t cum not until he tells you to. One time he didn’t let you so you’re hoping this was different “Im sorry daddy!” You scream it was all too much “Louder!” there was the third and final slap to the face “Sorry Daddy!” “Good girl cum on cum for daddy” and without a second to spare you release the fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

-

You wake up the next day next to Harry. Weren’t you supposed to discuss your experience post play? You didn’t even remember falling asleep. Harry was still asleep mouth ajar. You get out of bed and as expected your legs needed adjustment time. You drag yourself to the bathroom walk over to the toilet and pee, stand up to wash your hands when you glance at yourself in the mirror, your hands find themselves on your cheek why were they sore? You see a bruise on your neck and it hits you! You automatically tense up. Is this what it meant to be Harry’s sub? Before you delve deep into overthinking you shower. It feels like it brought you back to life. Although your hands couldn’t stay away from your face or neck.

Its not like the impact from the slaps were harsh or the neck too tight but they were also a shock to your body and had you not been submersed in sub mentality you would have shut it down. You examine your body, triggering memories of last night, the bruises were expected, but the slap, did you even like it? You walk into the room to find Harry already awake playing on his phone you smile and continue to walk into the closet.

“Yeh didn’t want to shower with me?” he asks sleep still laced in his voice, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around you  It shocks you, you were busy looking for a bottom to wear “oh no its not that you were sleeping” He was back to being his usual Harry not Dom harry He smiles and kisses your forehead “jus teasin let me go wash m’ass then” You blow him a kiss as he walks away.. -

The rest of the day goes without a hitch you also forget about the collar and slaps until you’re surrounded by Harry’s friends. A little get together and you were fine but the necklace Harry put around your neck was starting to irritate you. You play around with it swiveling it from side to side, but that wasn’t helping. You abruptly excuse yourself when it becomes too much and rush to the bathroom.

You take off the necklace and your hands shake you can’t help but scratch at your neck. It felt like the collar even though it wasn’t. It was lose and had a pendant on it. 

You take several deep breaths this shouldn’t be a big deal. You know Harry meant no harm or ill intent. It was sensory overload last night. You didn’t have enough time to process the slaps nor the collar. When you look in the mirror you swear you can see the bruise from the collar even though you covered it with make up. Those damn slaps they were good? Bad? What were they? You need to cry so you bargain with yourself a little bit then you clean yourself up. When you finish you fan yourself and then smile at yourself in the mirror to see if it was convincing enough, you agonize over putting the necklace on but you do.

Before you can finish there’s a knock “Pet yeh alright?” you hear his voice Damn this man you think to yourself before you open the door “yea! I just had to pee” you go to brush past him but he’s posted on the door frame smirking “what?” you ask looking at yourself He shakes his head and takes a step forward “Yeh look beautiful pet” he compliments “Oh thanks we should probably go back” He reaches over and brushes your hair away. He wanted to see all of you and he did along with the scratches on your neck “yeh okay? whats wrong?” he asks reaching for your neck with both hands gently, concerned, examining the damage “having an allergic reaction?” “No it was just itchy” He looks at you with disbelief you’ve worn this necklace before it wasn’t itchy then. “Come on!” he says grabbing your hand

Without a word from you he excuses both of you from the get together. Your drive to his place is silent you’re nervous. Was he mad at you? Should you say something? This isn’t like the many times you decided to be bratty and he got mad this was different. You follow him into his home and watch as he gets ice cream from the freezer. He remembers that being your comfort food. He makes it just the way you like it. Gently he places the bowl down in front of you. It wasn’t fair he could read you like a book.

“Need yeh to talk to me” “Uh….” you go to scratch your neck and Harry reaches over to stop you before reaching around and removing the necklace “S alright we are supposed to talk about these things remember?” he rubs his thumb over your hand You look up to the ceiling and draw in a deep breath before you blow it out as tears form in your eyes. Truth be told you were afraid, afraid he would drop you and get another sub, one who wasn’t so weak minded. It was just a few silly slaps.

“Pet” he calls to you, gently he grabs your cheeks making you look at him. He knew you all to well you were getting too caught up in your head. “Its just me yea? I wanna know whats wrong” “Why’d you slap me?” you blurt out you wanted it to be a more controlled delivery but it was not. Shaky voice and all “It wasn’t supposed to be punishment pet I just wanted to awaken other senses in your body” he explains knowing where you were going with this You eat a spoonful of ice cream to calm you down before you respond. “No I know that…. but why? Is it something you like to do? Slap during sex?” “Did yeh not like it?” You pause and take in another deep breath “I don’t know it was like I couldn’t even process then the damn collar” “Why didn’t yeh say the safe word? We agreed!” “I know we did…I said don’t hold back I was trying to be strong for you Harry” “But yeh don’t have to remember? Yeh don’t need to be strong for me” You sigh and eat another spoonful “we should have talked yesterday” “Tried to pet, but yeh were knocked out cold by the time I came back with the rag” “It was too much” you comment staring into his eyes “In a good way? or bad?” now he’s nervous. Nervous that you might think he was asking a lot of you “It was good Harry it really was I just didn’t think a slap to the face was one of your kinks” you shrug  “it just threw me off but i was on the verge of cumming and i wanted to cum so badly i don’t know”  “If yeh don’t like it pet I won’t do it” “No I don’t want you to think im complaining” “I don’t. Did I hit too hard?” he didn’t think he did. He has hit much harder in the past with past subs  “No it’s the hit itself” He feels embarrassed he should have known you weren’t ready with all the other subs he knew what they could handle. You were very confident in telling him to do all he wanted, which last night wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg “……..do you like the collar?” You snap him back to your conversation “yea I do actually” “Doesn’t it make you feel like you’re degrading me? Like a dog or something?”  “No collar play for me is all about total control over yeh but if yeh don’t like it… i don’t want yeh to feel like im degrading yeh” “Maybe not that for now I prefer your hands better”

He takes in a deep breath and releases slowly “Lets just table these things and revisit yea?” you reason with him you could tell he was becoming stressed He nods in agreeance “Sorry I guess I wasn’t ready for all of you after all. I should have known better” “No pet its okay come here”  He says pulling you into his lap “I care about yeh a lot. I want yeh to be just as happy if not more when yeh’re with me n think of me”

[mordoriscalling]

48 Weeks (2/4)

(Part 1)

Throughout the 48 weeks that Geralt and Jaskier spend apart, their relationship develops.

Aka, part 3 of the Singer and the Sailor AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. The events of this story happen after Stay or Sail Away but before Homecoming. Warnigns: some sexual content ahead!

Weeks 13-24

Week 13

He waits for Jaskier’s call impatiently, praying in his mind that this is not the time they’ve got the timezones wrong. He doesn’t even have five minutes to spare right now.

Finally, after the eternity of two more minutes, there’s an incoming call from Jaskier. He picks up and immediately says, “A storm’s going to hit us soon.”

He hears Jaskier’s shaky sigh.

“Okay,” Jaskier’s replies, his voice tight, “please stay safe.”

Geralt nods. Nothing wrong happens to the crew on his watch. He made that mistake only once.

Week 14

“Another storm’s coming.”

“What? What the hell, are we some kind of star-crossed lovers –”

“Jaskier. I have to go.”

“Right.” The glint of fear turn’s Jaskier’s eyes into a colour almost as pale as ice. “Send me a text when it’s over.”

It’s one of the worst storms Geralt’s even been through but there’s no way in hell he’ll let the sea take him or anyone he’s responsible for. They all have people to return to. The thought of his family gets him through it. Jaskier’s among them too.

Week 15

“You write those songs fast.”

“What can I say?” Jaskier answers with a disarming grin, “You’re my muse.”

Geralt snorts at the ridiculous notion but he can’t fight a small smile tugging at his lips.

He listens to the recording the moment Jaskier hangs up. The song is about longing, Jaskier’s longing. His voice is high-pitched, raw and vulnerable, and Geralt finds he can’t breathe.

Week 16

When he tries to thank for the song, the “thank you” refuses to go through his throat. “Siren,” he says instead, “I miss you too.”

Jaskier smiles, a tiny, soft thing. His blue, blue eyes sparkle and somehow, Geralt feels seen.

Week 17

“Have I told you about that time me and Rozalia tried to teach chickens how to fly?”

“You what.”

Jaskier laughs. “Yeah. When we were little, we often spent the summer holidays with our grandma back in Poland. She kept chickens and well... I remember when I was maybe eight years old, me and Rozalia noticed that Amelia, who was little then, loved to watch how the chickens try to fly up in the air.”

“So, Roza suggested that we try to teach them how to fly, and I came up with the idea of creating a... chicken launcher.”

“A chicken launcher?” Geralt repeats.

“Yes,” Jaskier answers with a chuckle, “it was a really crude thing that me and Roza built out of some random planks and bricks we found in the shed. But it worked! It launched the chickens some six feet in the air. Amelia was delighted.”

“What the fuck, Jaskier.”

“I know, okay? We didn’t hurt the chickens, I swear! Though none of them wanted to be placed on the launcher for the second time, wonder why.”

Geralt laughs and laughs, and laughs, the sound coming deep from his chest and loosening the tension in his body. He keeps cackling hysterically – because fucking chicken launcher – and comes to realise that he doesn’t mind Jaskier’s ridiculousness at all.

Week 18

Geralt quickly picks up on the fact that something’s off about Jaskier, no matter how much Jaskier tries to hide it.

“Why are you sad?” he asks.

For a moment, Jaskier says nothing, but then replies, “Valdo called me yesterday.”

Geralt frowns, surprised. “Valdo Marx?”

Jaskier didn’t fail to mention how much of a “backstabbing motherfucker and talentless swine” Valdo Marx is.

“Yeah,” Jaskier confirms with a wry smile. “I know he’d call, we’re in the same city coincidentally.” He sighs heavily. “I knew he’d be drunk. He usually calls when he’s drunk.”

Geralt stays quiet and Jaskier goes on.

“When he calls me, he just... reopens this fucking wound, saying all those things. How he loves me still, how he’s never stopped loving me, how we should meet and try again... but then he’ll start petty drama on social media to gain publicity and call my music shit because that news sells, and I–” A sharp exhale. “I wish it was simple. I wish I could only hate him but... Well. The problem is, we were something else together.” Jaskier laughs bitterly. “And yet, fame tore us apart.”

There’s a pause. Geralt doesn’t speak again, trying to process all of he’s heard. Eventually, Jaskier breaks the silence again.

“And now I’m touring, and he’s touring too, and everyone thinks we’re rivals, and it’s just getting so old. I have better things to do.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that, so he only says what he knows from experience. “In the long run, it’s harder to hold on than to let go.”

“That’s –” Jaskier starts, then cuts himself off. He stares at Geralt through the screen with wide eyes. “That’s... true.”

Week 19

“Two songs?”

“I have no idea how I do that either. At this point, I’m convinced that I just can’t die. Sleep deprivation should’ve killed me long ago but here I am, alive and kicking.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. His worry comes off as anger but most of his emotions do. Jaskier doesn’t seem deterred. Geralt has a suspicion that he literally has no self-preservation instinct. Still, he tries to stare Jaskier into compliance. “Go to sleep.”

Jaskier obliges after some theatrical complaining.

When Geralt plays the recordings after going to bed, he’s surprised how different the songs are. The first one is an enticing call for sharing an adventure, luring him towards thoughts of what’s beyond the empty vastness of blue, towards what’s unknown to him. It’s all Jaskier, whereas the other song is not like Jaskier at all. It has none of Jaskier’s usual energy; it’s just a call for help, a cry of deep sadness that Geralt knows very well. He hates that Jaskier knows it too.

Week 20

Geralt listens to Jaskier strumming his guitar idly and no words come to him even though he knows he should say something. He sees that Jaskier needs it but his throat refuses to work. The wolf signet is a heavy weight in his pocket and he almost curses the day he let himself have this.

He was aware from the start that he shouldn’t have. After so many years at sea, he’s almost grown an allergic reaction to getting attached like this; he knows it hurts like bloody hell. He had no idea that he’d be called for this deployment back then though, and Jaskier was there, irrationally familiar and safe. His eyes sparkled in the light of the room during that birthday party, his elegant hand was warm underneath his own, and Geralt gave in. He regretted it mere minutes later and he almost regrets it now.

This would’ve been so much easier without Jaskier. Loneliness is what he knows and waiting for Jaskier isn’t easy like that, especially not when he isn’t doing enough to have Jaskier stay.

He tries to think of Ciri’s laugh to cheer himself up but in the end, it makes his chest ache even more.  

Week 21

When Jaskier’s face shows up on the screen, his eyes and grin almost scream mischief.

“Hello, dear,” he purrs, “What a sight for sore eyes you are.”

Geralt knows that tone very well. His body responds to it with a thrill of anticipation before he can form a single thought. Then, Jaskier stretches his arms, “accidentally” lowering the camera of his phone to show his naked, hairy chest, and any thoughts fly out of Geralt’s mind.

“No shirt on?” he asks, his mouth dry.

“I don’t have anything on,” Jaskier answers in that raspy voice which drives Geralt mad.

“Show me.”

“With pleasure, darling.”

Week 22

“The audience was wonderful today,” Jaskier says dreamily.

Geralt rolls his eyes. “You always say that.”

He’s been saying that very often ever since he’s started touring in North America two months ago.

“That’s because you got to say that,” Jaskier replies, “I have to make my audience feel special. I mean it this time, though. There was magic in the air.”

Suddenly, a heavy feeling settles in Geralt’s gut and he can’t help wondering if Jaskier truly means the words he says.  

Week 23

In the past week, the sea has been moody, there have been several small but bothersome damages to the ship, and Ciri’s caught a nasty cold. Generally, nothing’s going like it’s supposed to, and Geralt is tired. He sees that Jaskier’s noticed.  

They’re quiet, only looking at each other through the screen. The silence between them seems impassable but then it’s broken by Jaskier’s quiet question.

“Why is your hair white?”

“I won’t tell you,” Geralt snaps, because the very idea of talking about it sets his teeth on edge. Jaskier flinches at his harsh reaction. Geralt tries to amend it by adding, “Not yet.”

It’s a promise which he isn’t sure he can keep but Jaskier accepts it with a slow nod.

“Will you tell me how come you joined the Navy, then?” Jaskier asks quietly. “In detail, please. When I asked before, you only said that you didn’t have anything better to do.”

“That’s how it happened.”

“Geralt.”

“Fine.”

And so, Geralt tells him. He was twenty-three and still hadn’t dealt with having been abandoned by his mother and dumped by Yennefer, who he thought to be the love of his life at the time. He hated it so much that he decided it was his turn to abandon, and he quit everything.

Their adoptive father never suggested for them to follow in his footsteps but at the time, the Navy seemed a career good as any. Geralt and his brothers, not related to him by blood but still his brothers even before Vesemir took them in, truly didn’t have any plans too. Nothing kept them on land.

Now as he looks at Jaskier listening to him carefully, he thinks it’s funny how things have changed.

Week 24

“We’re halfway through.”

Jaskier sounds tired and Geralt heaves a sigh. The room is light but it suddenly appears very dark. He’s almost forgotten home and missing his family has got less painful but there’re still days when it chokes him, like today.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tells Jaskier.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s fine if you’ve changed your mind.”

Geralt hears Jaskier release a shaky breath.

“Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” Geralt replies, looking at Jaskier finally, hoping to be seen, “I want this.”

Jaskier smiles softly. “Good,” he says, his voice warm, “because I want this too.”

Geralt wants to call him an idiot but it would sound far too fond.

The day ends with another storm.

Part 3

***

A/N:  The story about the "chicken launcher" is what me and my younger brother did one day when we were kids. I think it's definitely something the horror sister Rozalia and the wild brother Julian would do to amuse their nasty angel baby sister Amelia.

[avengerofyourheart]

Flour Girl {12} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count:  2.2k

A/N: Y’all ready for some FLUFF!?????!? I’m excited. :D Finally Bucky is Bucky and now he can be the perfect cinnamon roll we all know he can be. *swoon* I’d love to know your thoughts on this part, any and all feedback is appreciated! I love you guys. <3

<<Part 11   Part 12   Part 13>>  

Flour Girl Series Masterlist 

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_____________________________________________________

Repetitive buzzing rudely breached your cozy cocoon of sleep, causing you to stir. Each movement made your muscles ache and head pound. The buzzing was relentless, though, so you finally sat up in bed with a sniffle and threw your legs over the side to stand. Shuffling toward the sound, you were within reaching distance when it went silent. Of course it did.

Exhausted from even walking that short distance, you leaned against the door a moment and closed your eyes to stop your head from spinning when a loud knock from the other side startled you, making you jump.

“Who is it?” you called out in a hoarse, nasally voice as you peered through the peephole.

“It’s Bucky, open up,” a male voice spoke through the door.

Squinting at the distorted image, it was indeed the tall brunet with a mop of perfect hair whom had been your nemesis…until recently? In your ill state, you were almost positive last night had been a fever dream and Jimmy—or Bucky—had never showed up to help you with your baking. The idea still seemed absurd. Realizing you hadn’t responded yet, you cleared your throat, or attempted to, followed by a cough.

“Um…what do you want?” you croaked warily.

“I heard you were sick so I thought I’d check up on you,” he replied, his words now muddled.

Peering through the peephole again, you saw that he was eating something. Something familiar…

“What’re you…is that one of my cookies?” you nearly cried out, finally turning the lock and opening the door.

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a smile, popping the last piece of cookie in his mouth and then continuing to speak with his mouth full. “You were right, these Dark Chocolate Pistachio are amazing, especially with the sea salt on top? So good!” He nearly sang the last two words as he nudged past you into the apartment, leaving you standing there in the doorway, confused.

“Uh…okay. Thanks?” you replied as you closed the door and stepped toward him. “So you stopped by the bakery?” you asked, reaching for a tissue in your bathrobe pocket and blowing your nose.

Bucky chewed a few times before swallowing. ���Yup. I didn’t see you at the Nest this morning and Clint said you’d be late with delivering, so I finished mine and thought I’d see what was up. Wanda told me you’re sick? Does that mean you’re actually taking a day off?” he asked in surprise while taking a look around your small apartment, which was now littered with tissues and dirty dishes. You hardly had the time to clean lately and now you just didn’t have the energy.

“Unfortunately, yes. No one wants to see this…” you gestured to your current state, “around food. I did the morning baking for the pastry case and extra for at least part of the day. Wanda offered to do the deliveries, which was sweet of her. She’s only done it a few times and it takes her a bit longer, but I was able to do the extra baking and open the shop before she shoved me out the door to ‘rest and heal’,” you told him using air quotes before another coughing fit took over. Covering your mouth with your sleeve, Bucky took a few steps back, but tried to make it look like he wasn’t dodging your germs.

“Well, good for you,” he declared with a lopsided grin. “You have some drugs or something? Orange juice, all that?” Bucky asked as he took the liberty to open your fridge without asking, knowing that all he would see the empty shelves.

“Hey! Get out of there! I…okay, so I haven’t been to the grocery store in a while,” you admitted, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s fine, I’ll go tomorrow. And yes, I have some cold medicine. I’m waiting for it to kick in so I can finally sleep,” you answered, gesturing to the off-brand over-the-counter box of soft gels.

Nosy once again, Bucky picked up the box and looked at the back which resulted in a low whistle from him. “You’ll be waiting a while, then. This expired 6 months ago, I doubt it’ll help any,” he said, tossing the box on the counter.

Face flushed and feeling dizzy, you now felt like even more of a failure at life. You just wanted him out so you could rest. “It’s fine, Bucky, they just might not be quite as effective, now will you please go so I can sleep?” you demanded and opened the door for him with a sweeping gesture of your arms.

“What’re you going to eat? Isn’t it feed a cold, starve a fever? Or is it the other way around…” he trailed off, pulling out his phone.

Exasperated, you let out a sigh. “I have some ramen, so please just—

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“What?” That caught you off guard. “No, I…you think this is an allergic reaction? It’s just a cold!” you shouted, followed by a sneeze.

“Okay, geez,” he muttered, still focused on his phone as he walked out the door and into the hallway.

“Hey, you forgot your—“

“I’ll be back,” he grinned, walking outside and letting the door close behind him before you could respond.

Frozen in place, you tried to make sense of the past few minutes of interaction. What the hell was that about? Did he just say he was coming back? For his pastries? His behavior was getting more bizarre by the minute. Head foggy, you knew it wouldn’t make any more sense until you kicked this bug, so you shut the door and shuffled back to bed.

Hearing your phone ding, you searched your mess of blankets and finally found the hidden device to see a text message on the screen.

B: Hey, there, Franny. :) Did your day improve at all yesterday? I sure hope so.

A smile stretched across your face, despite the headache creeping behind your right eye.

FG: It did, actually. Got some help from an unexpected source. Sick day today, though. :( How’ve you been?

B: I’ve been good. Busy, but in a good way. I’m so  sorry you’re sick! Isn’t that always the way? The stress passes and the body decides to shut down. Hope you’re getting some rest and TLC! Get better soon.

Feeling an ache in your chest, you decided to put your phone away and bury your head in the pillows. Whether the ache was from coughing or the latent heartache from your almost-meeting, you weren’t sure. B still seemed as sweet and kind as ever, which made you all the more curious about why he would stand you up. If he didn’t want to meet you, then why maintain the charade? Head sore from thinking and illness, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, the buzzing returned. You rolled over with a groan, annoyed because you had been almost at the edge of sleep. Between a stuffy nose and coughing fits, there was no comfort to be had. Rolling out of bed, you traced your steps to the door and pressed the intercom button.

“What?” you barked.

“Whoa. Hello to you, too,” the familiar voice squawked through the intercom. “I said I’d be back, remember?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you leaned against the wall and pressed the button again. “Yeah, but you never said why. I’ll toss the pastries out the window for you,” you threatened before stepping away.

“Hey! I want those intact, thank you very much. Buzz me up,” he requested, but your bed was beckoning so you neglected to answer. After a moment of silence, Bucky spoke again in a sing-song voice. “Oh, Y/N…I have some drugs for you….”

Eyes wide, you ran to the intercom. “Shh!!! What if someone heard you? I have to live and work around here, you know. Ugh, fine,” you relented, pressing the release button for the building’s security door. Within 30 seconds, he was knocking on your door and you let him in.

“Could you not mention drugs around my tenants, even if they’re just for a cold? I have a reputation to uphold…what is all this?” you cut yourself short to see the grocery bags in Bucky’s arms.

Bucky had waltzed in and placed the bags on your small kitchen table. “The cure for the common cold,” he replied with a smirk as he unpacked the bags. “Orange juice, non-expired cold medicine, cough syrup, fancy tissues, and soup,” Bucky declared, looking proud of himself.

“Fancy tissues?” you questioned, allowing yourself a small smile at the sweet gesture.

“The kind with the lotion in it? Keeps your nose from getting all red and stuff. Totally worth the money. I hope you like Chicken Noodle, I know it’s a cliche, but it works,” he continued to putter around the kitchen, finding a spoon in a drawer and also grabbing a fork for some reason. Producing a glass from the cupboard, he poured you some orange juice and placed it on the table. “Sit.”

Narrowing your eyes, you stood still in your confusion. “Why are you doing this?”

Heaving a deep sigh, he pulled out the chair for you and gently held you by your shoulders until the back of your knees hit the chair and you sat. “I’m really not the asshole you think I am. At least, not entirely. I do have friends and roommates and a family that seems to tolerate me. I’m sure you don’t believe any of that and I’ve given you plenty of evidence to the contrary, but I really can be a good guy sometimes. Taking 10 minutes out of my day to make sure you don’t die from taking expired meds and that you actually eat something substantial won’t kill me. Now, eat up,” Bucky urged you as he took a seat across from you.

You watched him open the bag of pastries he brought on his first trip and produce a small brown box that he proceeded to open. He stopped his motions then, noticing you still weren’t eating. Bucky set down his own food and stuck a fork in it, then opening the styrofoam container of soup and pushing it toward you. When you still didn’t pick up your spoon, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, staring you down. The soup actually did smell kinda good.

Finally giving in, you begrudgingly ate a spoonful of soup as a wide smile appeared on the brunet’s handsome face. The warm broth eased your sore throat as you swallowed and you then realized how hungry you really were. Satisfied, Bucky dug into his own food, lifting a forkful of the very cinnamon roll you had made the night before to his lips.

“If you microwave it for 30 seconds, it’s even better,” you muttered to him between bites.

“Oh yeah? Well, I guess you’d be the expert.”” He accepted your suggestion and walked over to the microwave above the stove. As the device dinged and he returned to the table, you opened the box of medicine and swallowed the recommended number of pills with orange juice. “Mmm. Hell yeah,” he groaned after taking a bite of warm cinnamon roll.

You let out a laugh, to both of your surprise. “Glad you’re enjoying the fruits of my labors,” you teased, drinking the broth straight from the container. Only a few noodles remained. You had apparently been hungrier than you thought.

“Better?”

You nodded while swallowing. “Much. Thank you, Bucky,” you told him genuinely, holding his gaze.

Bucky maintained eye contact a moment longer before he placed his palms on the table and stood. “Well, I’ll leave you to rest. Hope you feel better soon. Oh, and you might want to shower,” he mentioned, then seeing the offended expression on your face. “No! I just mean…you look fine, it just helps to freshen up and put on clean clothes, you know. Get rid of the germs,” he yammered on, holding the box with half a cinnamon roll inside.

Crossing arms over your chest, you offered a nod. “I’ll take it into consideration. At least let me pay for the…”

“Nope!” he quickly interrupted and threw the door open. “You’ll have to catch me first,” Bucky said with a wink and then he was gone.

Once again, you were left staring at the closed door, more confused than ever. What was up with him? Was he really just trying to make up for his past behavior? It still felt a little jarring, but you had to admit that you were grateful for the food and medicine. You hadn’t coughed in a short while and your sinuses had cleared a little bit. Sleep might even be possible, you thought as you put the orange juice in the empty fridge.

Crawling back under the covers, you heard another ding from your phone, pulling it out of your bathrobe pocket.

B: Being sick sucks, so here’s a picture of a cute dog. Feel better! :)

Chuckling at the adorable picture and attached message, you remembered to plug in your phone to charge before finally falling into a deep slumber with a smile on your face.

_________________________

Part 13>>  

___________________________________________________

Sooooo????? How freaking adorable was that?? :D Ugh, I know. Bucky is just the sweetest, but still, I don’t blame her for being suspicious! Do you agree? Oh gosh, I totally wish I had someone come forcibly take care of me when I’m ill. ;) How about those texts, though?? B is still just such a cutie. She still hasn’t connected the dots yet, but who would have thought Jimmy the Jerk could be the one sending such lovely messages?? heh. This part was so fun to write, I love their banter. I’d love to know your thoughts, any and all feedback is appreciated! I adore you all. Thank you. 

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[starryikesen-blog]

boyfriend! nobunaga

CONFESSION

- nobunaga never really seemed like someone you’d come to like, now that you think of it - your first impression of him was mixed— you thought he was rather a interesting person, assertive, yet quick witted, also holding this unusual gratefulness towards you ever since you saved him - you didn’t really think much about it, and it didn’t even occur to you that you were attracted to him until you started to worry over him - of course you do worry over him, because he always had someone out trying to kill him, but it’s become a constant plaguing thought - and from all the times he’d outwardly flirt and hit on you, you brushed it off with a eye roll at first, but since when did you felt this strange fluttering in your stomach? - you tried to give answers to yourself, until mitsuhide discreetly dropped the hint that you liked nobunaga romantically - you were in denial - you simply could not believe that you had fallen for nobunaga, although it was indeed a highly possible thing to happen - in fact, you thought this was some allergic reaction and was asking ieyasu’s help to whip up something for you - but now that you thought of it, it might be true, given how you checked through every single parcel delivered anonymously to nobunaga - it was the best way to ensure his personal safety, and he himself gave you the permission to - you would find suspicious things that happen to be dipped in poison, thanks to the silver clips you had that detected them - even hideyoshi didn’t get to this extent, and you did all this voluntarily - you didn’t tell him either, in case it dragged down his spirit and would affect the battles he had (although he would’ve laughed it off easily) - but still, even if you did habour feelings for him, this is nobunaga oda here, devil king of the sixth heaven, and there was no way he would reciprocate your stupid feelings - it would mean that he was constantly busy, and always planning or at war, and you weren’t so sure if you could hold up well watching your boyfriend go to war often, with a chance of never returning - these thoughts kept you up late till the wee hours of the morning, before the cogs in your brain finally gave up and stopped turning - it proved itself to be a grave mistake, for you felt like giddy and unfocused the whole day - it happened that you had many duties as chatelaine, and you couldn’t push them away because of your own mistakes - one of them was to check through the parcel that’s arrived - this wasn’t new, and it depended whether it was a gift from rebels or from innocent townspeople - your fingers worked clumsily from your drowsiness, and ran across the fine fabric of a red kimono - of course, until you felt something sharp prick your index finger - you knew at an instant what it was— a extremely tiny needle, inserted into the folds of the fabric and peeking out a little so that whoever who wears it suffers from whatever’s coated on it - it was no doubt poison, and ignoring the light bleeding on your finger, you disposed of it quickly, before anything could happen to you - the poison was a speedy one, causing your vision to blur and your hearing to diminish while you felt a surge of something rush to your mouth, and the next thing you knew, your light pink kimono was stained scarlet with your own blood - you blinked, trying to get up and at least inform someone, but your legs gave out on you too quickly - the next few things happened too quickly for you; you were slipping in and out of consciousness, and your cheeks were pressed against a sturdy chest- hideyoshi? - or when you realised that you were lying on a futon in a room that smelled of herbs (ieyasu’s, no doubt), grinding sounds filling your ears - when you at last woke up, your eyes were squinting from the sunlight coming from outside, and your head throbbed tremendously, and it just felt like you had been trampled on by an elephant - your throat was painfully sore, and you couldn’t move a single limb— you simply didn’t have the energy to - “this is my fault. i should not have given her the job.” - nobunaga? - “my lord, you are not at fault. whoever is behind this will pay with their lives for endangering you and hurting azuchi’s princess.” - “enough, hideyoshi. assist mitsuhide in uncovering their identity. i shall spend some time alone here.” - “understood, my lord.” - a sliding of the doors, and the room basked in silence and light again - you considered yourself lucky, for your head was facing the opposite side, and nobunaga couldn’t catch you awake - somehow, you sensed that he was going to say something alone, or to you, and you didn’t want to interrupt that - “how could you rush in to save me even when you carry so much fatigue? i don’t deserve this.” - a large, warm hand ran over your cheeks, and your hair, before nobunaga sighed - you’ve never heard him talk with so much regret, and yet, his voice was laced with traces of love and tenderness - “these blood-soaked hands don’t deserve to be touching you.” - “yes, they do.” - you croaked out, willing all your energy to turn you head, your eyes meeting nobunaga’s wide ones - the slightest flush were on his cheeks, probably from the revelation that you heard his words, but that didn’t stop you from saying more - “nobunaga. you deserve the whole world.” - it was short, but effective, and for once, nobunaga was at a loss for words - but his carnelian eyes betray his emotions, flashing with grief, but at the same time unexplainable happiness - “this isn’t your fault. didn’t you always tell me that it wasn’t my fault that you got hurt? the nobunaga oda we learnt in history wasn’t a hypocrite.” - that left him speechless, for despite your weak form right now, you had that blazing look of extreme determination, and that made him realise with a start, once again, just how strong you were - “fireball.” - “hmm?” - “i love you.” - the words tumbled out of his mouth, but he didn’t regret it; his voice held pride, and nobunaga definitely felt proud for loving a respectable person like you - you laughed, a breathless and soft one, a smile forming on your slightly flushed face - “i love you too.” - (let’s just say that nobunaga took such good care of you until you fully recovered that it left ieyasu jobless.)

CUDDLING + KISSING

- as mentioned briefly somewhere above, nobunaga is a busy man - given that, he won’t have the time to bump into you in corridors and give you a few minutes of making out, absolutely not - cuddles and kisses are reserved till the night and usually in his room - if there’s a war coming soon, he’ll return pretty late, and just basically gracefully collapse onto your lap - he really likes to rest his head on your lap; and it gives you a chance to make him relaxed by running your hands through his dark hair, or softly singing to him until he falls asleep - you’ll have to try and shift him onto the futon afterwards, good luck! - but worry not, nobunaga once mentioned that he can go on without sleep for many days, so it’s unlikely that he’ll be so tired to the extent that he can’t even muster the energy to kiss you - it’s just that both of you know that once you two start, there’s a chance you won’t stop for a while, so it all depends on you - once you decided that it wasn’t time for that, and forced him to relax while you sang him a lullaby your mother always did when you were young - nobunaga didn’t know if he should be in awe over your voice, or the comfort of it, or he should’ve just kissed you instead because great, now he’s more in love with you - there are times where you just stay awake and stare at him while he’s asleep beside you, and he just swings one arm around you and brings you closer to him unconsciously - these suffice for the cuddles during wartime - but when it isn’t, nobunaga will make sure to shower you with love - he’ll kiss every inch of you, leaving you yearning for more, and mark you again and again all over to reclaim his “territory” - it’s been scientifically proven that one spends 98.65% of the time under nobunaga as his lover while he does his… things - his kisses may be everywhere and anywhere, but they’re just like him; confident, straightforward, and assertive - each kiss is a reminder of how you’re his and he loves so much - it’s hot and sweet at the same time that you melt in his hands every single time - earlobe kisses are a huge thing between you two, because there’s something about kissing the softest parts of the ears that leaves both of you wanting more - but it’s a form of reassurance for nobunaga too, when he’s down and you kiss his earlobe softly, he won’t feel that bad anymore

EMOTIONAL

- there are times where nobunaga feels down too, after a particularly hard war when his men get hurt in large numbers - you understand his dream of unifying the country; to wage war so that it can end; and usually he’s so confident and driven about it, but when he sees that so many people are losing lives and families because of it, he starts to doubt himself - it’s a really bad thing, as you could say that his vision and his aims led him to who he is today, and doubting that would be like doubting his entire life - at these times, it’s always obvious for you— his eyes go ice cold, and it’s such a stark contrast from the usual fire burning in his red orbs that you know it immediately - and you’ll sit him down outside his room, where the moonlight cast its silver veil on your surroundings that you hold his hand firmly, whether or not he does the same - you know that he needs support at this time, and you’re always there beside him - he might not talk, and honestly silence is preferable, because nobunaga is someone who is clear-headed, and he can sort out this existential dilemma by himself - in fact, if you tried to talk, it might get worse, as he can’t focus and eliminate those pervasive thoughts - but when he’s done, you sort of just see this pile of ash light up again with the faintest glow, and you know that your nobunaga is back - here’s when you start talking, telling him about the nobunaga that’s in your history textbooks, all the good deeds he did, and reminding him that this path of his isn’t a mistake at all - it’s a lonely path, and you make sure you’ll walk down it with him - when you’re upset, however, nobunaga has three steps: pamper, question, kill - to put it in words, he’ll make sure you’re happy and emotionally stable enough before asking anything - whether it means showering you with kisses or spoiling you with konpeito or anything else you ask for, he’ll do it just to see that smile he loves so much on your face again - and then, he’ll interrogate the hell out of you - i do not exaggerate when i say that. - he’ll ask for the smallest of details, however trivial it may seem, nobunaga wants to make sure he gets a clear view of this issue before handling it - normally nobunaga sums up problems with a sentence or two, but he’s always given extreme thought and consideration before coming up with a plan and relaying it to others in the simplest way possible - if the problem was a person, then you might not ever see them again for a long, long time - if it was regarding your personal feelings, expect more digging— again, not because he’s being nosy, but he wants to fully understand before giving you advice, or comfort - nobunaga’s brute honesty, while it sounds unpleasant, is legitimate and useful - and you’re definitely thankful for that

DOMESTIC

- let’s just say that being an extremely busy man, your try your best to make everything convenient for him - need a new supply of konpeito? no problem. make sure hideyoshi doesn’t ever find it? hard, but you’re on it - it’s these little things that give him immense comfort, and he makes sure he rewards you for it - as for the rewards… it’s up to your imagination to go wild - you always try and convince him to bring you to the war, keeping you at the rear, helping with the wounded and all since you’re efficient and gentle - it depends on his mood, but he knows you do your job well, so it also depends on the scale of the war - a huge war that may or may not result in defeat? he’ll let you tag along; you’re his lucky charm and he doesn’t want to lose in front of you, giving him the motivation and energy to kick whoever’s ass he has to - and another pair of hands helping the casualties wouldn’t hurt, if anything - besides, it’s an unspoken rule among the warlords that the rear troops and army shouldn’t be attacked - wartime aside, on normal, peaceful days, you’ll take good care of him, bringing him food, cleaning the room, giving him massages, etcetera - at night, it’s likely he’ll take you out somewhere, whether if it’s to the kitchens to steal sweets, or to a nearby field of wild flowers to appreciate the moon, or just chilling outside the room - it’s also nights like these that nobunaga lets his walls down and tells you everything, how much he loves you, and how much he couldn’t bear if he lost you - you two could be married and it wouldn’t make a difference

FINAL VERDICT

- nobunaga’s usually a tough nut to crack, but he’s willing to do so around you without feeling like he shouldn’t, because he trusts you a lot, and loves you too much to be hiding anything away from you. extremely protective and wild, yet unexpectedly gentle at times.

[outtacommission]

everybody, please believe I’m fine

hello i have the soren sickfic!!!!!! (no pairings, just sibling h/c)

Ao3

If there was going to be a day for this to happen, it would happen to be this day. Soren wakes up to a dark, cloudy sky, cold rain pattering against the window, and a splitting headache. He doesn’t realize how bad it is until he sits up in bed only to have a bolt of pain spear through his skull. He drops his head into his hands with a hiss and pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. It takes too long for the throb to lessen enough to look up again, and when he does, it becomes apparent that the headache isn’t the only discomfort plaguing him at the moment. Pressure is already building in his sinuses, and his throat is itchy and sore when he swallows.

Soren freezes. Is he… Is he sick? He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way.

He groans in frustration and rakes a hand through sleep-matted hair. Is this because I didn’t wash my hands with soap before lunch a few days ago…? Or maybe it’s the universe’s way of getting back at him for laughing at Claudia that one time when she fudged a spell and accidentally gave herself a rash.

Either way, a cold can’t get in the way of his responsibilities. He’s a strong, tough guy. In all honesty he thought he was beyond getting sick at all. The last time he was ill was…probably as a child. There was one instance in his early teen years when he had an allergic reaction to some weird edible plant he ate on a dare, but he doesn’t really count that.

It’s weird that he’s suddenly experiencing these symptoms now, when his body is in such excellent condition. Guess it can’t be helped. The day has to go on, and he can’t spend it in bed.

He skips breakfast. Out of all the days to do so, this is probably the worst one, but he can’t really seem to work up an appetite. In fact, the thought of porridge or pastries makes him a little nauseous. That’s also unusual, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He’ll make up for it with a large lunch—surely he’ll be feeling better by then.

The castle seems draftier than normal and his armor sits heavy on his shoulders when he puts it on. His muscles ache as he reaches up to secure his pauldron. He willfully ignores it.

Claudia catches up to him in the corridor on his way out to meet with the rest of his troop. “Mornin,’ Sor-bear!” she says loudly, running up to his side. “I didn’t see you at breakfast!”

Soren tries not to wince when the volume of her voice causes another spike of pain in his head. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t really feel like breakfast today, so.”

“You…didn’t feel like breakfast? That’s weird.” She reaches up and pokes his cheek gently. “You feel like breakfast to me!”

He only laughs softly in reply.

Claudia frowns. “You okay, Sor-bear? You seem…quiet.”

“Ah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiles, internally grimacing at how utterly unconvincing he sounds. “Just a little tired. Didn’t sleep well, I guess.”

His sister purses her lips and places a hand on his shoulder. “Then take it easy today, okay? You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Including Dad.”

Soren starts a little at that. He and Claudia have always been close—closer than most siblings, he thinks—and sometimes it seems like she can read his mind. Truthfully, he’s not entirely convinced that she can’t, since magic doesn’t make much sense to him. It can be a little unnerving. And Claudia is terrifyingly smart and perceptive when she wants to be.

And, well, maybe it’s a little bit true that he carries himself like he’s got something to prove. But when you’re the youngest member of the king’s army, ever, and the son of the High Mage, it’s hard not to feel pressured. Eyes are on him all the time, and no matter how skilled he is with a blade, he can’t help but wonder if people look down on him for not being talented with magic. And by people, he specifically means his father. Not that Viren has ever given him much reason to think he’s disappointed in his lack of magical ability, but when Soren watches him and Claudia together, he can’t stop the idea from passing through his mind.

He’s never admitted that before. It’s just a nagging little thought that he usually stuffs deep, deep down under bravado and confidence, and that works pretty well.

Damn Claudia for bringing that up now. Damn her for noticing it in the first place. Soren is not insecure. That’s just not a thing. And he certainly doesn’t think this deeply about things. Feelings and emotions and worrying about not meeting expectations are not a part of who he is.

“I’m not—I don’t—” Damn it. He stutters to a stop as his face screws up, and before he can stop it, he sneezes. Forcefully. The ache behind his face flares and he groans.

“Bless you!” Claudia says, surprised.

Shit. Soren sniffles wetly, dragging the back of his hand under his nose. “Thanks.”

His sister comes to stand in front of him and crosses her arms. “I’m serious, Soren. Don’t push yourself today.”

With one last sniff, he straightens up and puts on his best smirk. “I’m fine, Claudia. I’m not gonna keel over or anything.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, but then cracks a smile and shakes her head. “Okay, well, I’ll be around. If you happen to need anything.”

He smiles back and nods before turning and continuing on his way.

—

Training is… Well, it goes a lot worse than he had anticipated. The floodgates open ten minutes in and he's instantly soaked through, and training in wet gear is miserable enough on its own. But on top of that, his armor is so heavy and each swing of his sword takes herculean effort. He doesn’t understand. He’s never had this much trouble. Armor isn’t light, exactly, but it’s never weighed him down like this, even while wet. He’s never struggled so much to get his footwork right. His movements are sluggish and clumsy and it takes far more concentration than it ever should merely to keep his balance while his sparring partner deals offensive blows. And despite the constant movement, he's freezing. Courtesy of the rain.

It’s when he’s finally knocked on his ass that he admits to needing a break. He stows the wooden training sword and makes his way to the water pump around the corner of the courtyard, where he takes a moment to press his forearm to the wall and rest his head on it. His body is so weak and drained of energy. He definitely shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, but even now the thought of eating makes him feel ill.

He growls in frustration. This is so inconvenient.

A cough suddenly bursts from his throat, forceful and dry. He’s been having the urge to cough since he got his heart-rate up, but hasn’t allowed himself more than a quick clearing of his throat until now. Now, the cough completely takes over and his lungs heave as he hacks, feeling how much the illness is settling into his throat and chest and head.

Why can’t the day just be over already?

No sooner had the thought entered his head than a distant clock chimes twelve, and he groans again as the coughing tapers off. Lunchtime. And then he’s supposed to have swordplay training with the step-prince. He usually enjoys being Callum’s instructor, even if the kid is no good with a blade, but today just thinking about training is exhausting.

That, and he still isn’t hungry. Either he forces himself to eat and potentially vomits from it, or he continues on with an empty stomach and drains what little energy he has left and pray that he can keep pulling strength from somewhere.

Neither option sounds good.

Technically he could always admit to not feeling well and take the rest of the day off, but that’s not going to happen.

He pushes himself upright and takes off for the training ground again. But after a few steps, the blood suddenly drains from his head and his legs lose strength completely. He stumbles to the wall again, feels his shoulder slam against it as his vision starts spinning and morphing into bright shapes and a rushing sound fills his ears. For a few moments, he’s completely cut off from the world and his own body as he can’t see or hear, and can only feel a dull tingling, trembling sensation.

When he finally comes back to himself, he’s lying slumped on his side in the grass not five feet from the water pump. His hands are shaking, he’s covered in cold sweat and rain, and his head is absolutely pounding.

What…just happened…?

Fear starts burrowing into his consciousness as he comes to the realization that he’d just passed out.

Oh, not good, not good, not good, not good.

He’s got to get up before someone sees him like this.

His first attempt fails miserably. As soon as he sits up and tries to get to his feet, his muscles scream in protest and dizziness overwhelms him, knocking him right back down. He pants roughly, the air making his throat ache. He’s weak as a newborn foal, and probably looks about as graceful as one. Oh, this is so bad. What if he can’t get up? What if he has to call for someone to help?

No, he can’t. He’s stronger than this. He’s got this. It’s just a stupid cold.

He removes his pauldron, gorget, and breastplate, and it’s a little easier to breathe. He leans his head against the stone wall and focuses on drawing oxygen into his lungs. This is because he skipped breakfast for sure. He really should try to eat something for lunch, even if it’s just a piece of bread. And maybe he would, if he felt steady enough to stand.

After a while, his hands stop shaking quite so badly and the dizziness recedes, leaving just the terrible headache and utter exhaustion in its wake. Soren takes a deep breath, begs his body to cooperate, and slowly climbs to his feet. Thankfully, this time, his legs are solid enough to hold him and he doesn’t get knocked back down by vertigo. Good enough. He coughs again into his elbow and makes his way back out to the training ground.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle now, hardly enough to notice, but everything—including Soren’s hair and clothes—is still wet and cold. He shivers.

Surprisingly, Callum is already there on a bench with his head bent over his sketchbook. He looks up when Soren approaches.

“Hey,” he greets. “I was wondering where you were.”

Soren’s brow furrows. “Why? Training’s not ’til one.”

“Uh, it is one.” Callum tilts his head, raises an eyebrow. “Where’s the rest of your armor?”

It’s…been an entire hour? There’s no way. He couldn’t have been sitting by the water pump for a whole hour, and he hadn’t heard the clock chime. He’s not…

“Hellooo? Soren?”

Callum’s waving a hand in front of his face.

Jeez, he’s out of it. If he can’t get his head on straight maybe he really shouldn’t be swinging a sword around, even if it’s a wooden one. “Sorry. What was the question?”

Callum frowns at him, confused and maybe a little concerned. “Are you alright?”

Soren blinks. It’s getting a little hard to breathe again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Because you’re missing half of your armor.” Callum’s shrewd green eyes linger on his face for a brief moment. “And you look really pale.”

Panic rises in Soren’s breast. He totally forgot about his discarded armor. His chest heaves. “I was just—sparring. That’s what…what a good workout’ll do for you. You should try it sometime.” He stretches his arms out in front of him and bends sideways, ignoring the persistent ache in his muscles and praying the kid will just take the explanation.

Of course, he does not. Callum puts his sketchbook aside and stands. He’s decently shorter than Soren, but something about being sized up makes Soren nervous and he unconsciously backs up a little. “Are you…sure? You really don’t look too good, Soren.” Something lights up in the prince’s eyes and he rubs the back of his head. “You know, you shouldn’t train with me if you’re not up to it. I don’t mind missing a day—”

“No, no, no.” It’s no secret that Callum doesn’t like sword-fighting, or any type of fighting, but Soren’s taken that as more of a personal challenge. He was entrusted with teaching the step-prince how to fight, and it’ll reflect badly on him if Callum is unable to at least defend himself in battle. “Nice try, but we’re not skipping training.”

“But you—”

“You should be focused on yourself.” He goes to retrieve the sparring swords and tosses one to the prince (which is dropped and clatters on the cobblestone). Soren rolls his eyes and tries to convince himself he’s feeling alright. He’s not—he still feels worryingly out of breath, his nose is running, he needs to cough, his body is almost unbearably heavy and every inch is in pain. Maybe he’ll cut their training short today, but he can’t allow either one of them to just skip it.

They work on offense. He shows Callum the proper footwork and techniques and they run through them together over and over again. Soren wonders if the prince can tell how sluggish and uncoordinated he’s feeling. It’s only gotten worse since that morning. But if Callum does notice anything, he keeps his mouth shut.

He’s demonstrating another technique for the fourth time when he feels it again. An uncomfortable chill creeps up his neck and down his arms, causing him to break into a cold sweat, and his head starts getting light. No, no, no! This isn’t happening again. It can’t. He is not about to faint right in front of Callum. He’ll…he’ll be alright if he just ignores it. If he keeps moving and powers through, it’ll go away. He thinks.

He pulls up out of his thrust and turns to the young boy, panting. “Okay, now…now you try it.”

Callum looks unsure, but he makes a pathetic attempt. As if anticipating the scolding Soren would give him for messing up again, he grimaces and sighs. “I just don’t really get how the steps work. Like, I could never remember where to put my feet if I was actually fighting someone, you know?”

Soren’s breath comes in ragged pants. No matter how much he wills it away, black spots are clouding up his vision and the rushing sound is coming back. He’s gotta do…something.

“Sorry if it doesn’t make sense to me that when you’re in battle you’d basically just start dancing with the other person, but I really don’t get why—uh. Soren?”

He’s aware, on some level, that he’s just staring into space. At some point he’d put his weight on his sword, leaning on it like a crutch, and the fact that he doesn’t remember doing so is kind of alarming. He needs to answer Callum, but he has no idea what the kid had been talking about and he’s far too preoccupied with focusing on not falling over.

“Soren?” Callum appears in front of him, big eyes wide with worry. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

A little bit of clarity comes back to him. “I’m—I’m okay.” He puts a hand on Callum’s shoulder in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but when he tries taking a step he ends up putting most of his weight on the prince’s small frame.

“Whoa—Soren—!”

His strength leaves him and suddenly he’s on his knees with his face buried in Callum’s tunic. He reaches up a shaking hand and grips his jacket. Tries to tell him that he’s fine, he just needs a minute, but soft gasps are all that come out of his mouth before he’s coughing violently.  

And then, somehow, he’s on the ground again. Callum is hovering over him and shouting something that he can’t make out.

He feels absolutely terrible. Easily the worst he’s ever felt in his entire life. As soon as he’s down, all interest in putting up a front and powering through his illness vanishes without a trace. All he wants is his bed. And his mother.

Things go dark and hazy for an indeterminable amount of time. The next thing he’s aware of is a cool hand on his face and voices above him. Something is pressed to his lips and then there’s liquid trickling into his mouth. It’s sweet, and he can’t help but sputter and cough when it makes its way past his tongue.

“Come on, Sor, you need to drink it.”

That voice has him prying his eyes open. “C…Claudia?” It’s still hard to see as his head hasn’t stopped spinning, but her long, dark hair is unmistakable.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He thinks she smiles a little. “You’re alright. Think you scared the daylights out of Callum, though.”

He tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a pathetic groan.

“Try to drink some of this, okay?”

More liquid is poured into his mouth, and now that his body actually recognizes what it needs to be doing, he manages to swallow it.

“Good, Sor.”

In the back of his mind, he’s aware that he’s still on the ground in the courtyard, undeniably making a huge scene with his sister there holding up his head and helping him drink. He’s never going to live this one down. At the moment, though, he can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed, even if he would like to get in bed as soon as possible.

When Claudia lowers the vial, he coughs again. “Wh—what happ’ned?”

His vision is slowly clearing, and he can see a look of sheer worry come over his sister’s face. She looks at the prince, who’s still hovering, but over her shoulder now. “Callum?”

“I don’t know, he just…passed out. He was really pale when he showed up. I knew he shouldn’t have been training and I told him that but he didn’t listen.”

Claudia looks back down at Soren and sighs. “You’re such an idiot. I told you not to push yourself too hard.” She presses a palm to his forehead. “You’re running a fever, Sor-bear. Ready to go to bed now?”

He can’t do much more than moan miserably in agreement. What an awful day this has turned out to be.

“Alright. Callum, help me get him up.”

And it isn’t over yet, he soon learns, as they help him get upright and walking. The lightheadedness comes back almost instantly and his body sags, like there are weights tied around his limbs and torso. He gasps at the pain that spears through his head.

“He’s heavy,” Callum groans.

Soren almost feels bad for the two of them. He’s not much more than dead weight, hardly able to lift his legs and shivering all the while. When the cough comes back, he tries to lower his head out of courtesy. His throat is killing him.

They make their way through the castle corridors slowly. Claudia murmurs soft encouragements to him the whole time, even when he tells her he needs to stop and rest (which is more often than he wants to admit. He blames the weakness on the apparent fever). At the edges of his consciousness, he is aware of the servants and guards who stop to ask if he’s alright, and it’s absolutely humiliating to have his fellow guardsmen see him in such a state. He wishes he could just sink into the floor.

When they’re almost back to his chambers, a new voice pipes up down the hall. “Callum! There you are. I was looking for… Uh, what’re you doing?”

Soren likes Prince Ezran, even if he doesn’t always understand the kid. He’s sweet and curious and more clever than a kid his age should be. He can’t say that’s a trait he appreciates right at the moment, though.

“Getting Soren back to his room,” Callum replies.

Quick little footsteps echo on the walls as Ezran comes closer. “Eugh. What’s the matter with him? He looks like he’s about to puke.”

“He’s not feeling well. Hey, would you mind getting the door?”

The hinges creak when Ezran pushes it open, and the relief Soren feels at the sight of his own bed is absolutely immense. His body turns to jelly as soon as he’s able to sink onto it. His head misses the pillow, but that doesn’t matter. He closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh.

“I sent for the court physician,” Claudia says as she begins removing the rest of his armor. “And Dad.”

That has Soren picking his head up again. “Dad…?”

“Well, yeah.” She looks at him like she doesn’t understand why that would be a problem. She probably doesn’t. “He’ll want to know what’s going on.”

He groans, letting his head fall back forcefully. Of course, his father would find out what had happened eventually, but he’s definitely not thrilled about having the man here at his sickbed. If he even bothers to come, that is. Honestly Soren isn’t sure which he’d prefer.

When the armor is off, Claudia steps back with a satisfied breath and turns to the princes. “Okay, you two, you can run along. I can handle him from here.”

Callum gives a hesitant nod. “Um, sure. Feel better, Soren.”

“Get well soon!” Ezran says, lifting his little toad creature above his head and scurrying out after his brother.

He gives a little wave in thanks and instantly feels better as the door shuts behind them.

Claudia gives his shoulder a nudge. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He patiently allows her to help him change. She’s the only one he would ever let do it.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” she asks as she holds out his nightshirt for him to slip his arms into.

“Dunno.” He coughs gently as she pulls it over his head. “Thought I could make it through the day.”

She huffs, exasperated. “You know, for a knight, you don’t really have a good sense of self-preservation.” She pulls back the bedcovers and helps him get situated under them, fluffs up his pillows, and pulls the sheets up to his chest like their mother used to do when they were little. “I wish you’d just told me earlier that you were feeling sick. I’m your sister.”

“You would’ve stopped me from going to training.”

“Yeah, and maybe then this wouldn’t have happened!” She sits on the side of the bed and gently pushes a lock of sweaty hair back from his face. “You look really awful, Sor. You gotta take better care of yourself. You didn’t eat breakfast and you—” She stops abruptly, a horrified look coming over her face. “You haven’t eaten at all today, have you?”

He looks away, wincing in guilt.

“Oh, Soren—no wonder you collapsed! You’re such an idiot.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Well, it’s worth repeating.” She gives him a sad look that makes his heart clench painfully in his chest. “I heard Callum yelling for help out in the courtyard and when I saw you on the ground…”  

His cheeks burn with something more than fever. “I’m sorry, Claudia. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Her bright green eyes wander over his face for a moment before she sighs. “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re okay. But, please, don’t do this again.”

He gives her a small smile. “Won’t. Promise.”

“Good.” She ruffles his hair and stands up. “The doctor will be here soon. I’m gonna get some food sent up in the meantime. Is there anything you want? Soup? Jelly tarts?”

“Soup is fine.” He still feels sick at the notion of eating anything, but he definitely doesn’t have a choice in the matter now. There haven’t been too many reasons over the years for Claudia to mother him like this, but she sure is good at it. And he wouldn’t admit it, but just having her looking after him has already made him feel ten times better, at least mentally and emotionally.

Once she’s spoken to a few servants, she returns to his bedside with a basin of water and a cloth. “So how are you feeling? Be honest.”

Soren shrugs. “Exhausted, mostly. My head and my throat hurt a lot. And I'm really cold.”

Claudia hums sympathetically. “That's the fever. You’re burning up.”

He grunts unhappily. “This is pathetic.”

“No, it's not. Everyone gets sick sometimes. Even you.” She wrings out the cloth and presses it to his forehead.

“Dad's not gonna be happy with me.”

She pauses for a brief moment, some emotion passing through her eyes that he can’t quite recognize, and then resumes wiping down his face. “He knows it’s not your fault.”

Even in his feverish state, he doesn’t miss the fact that didn’t disagree with him.

“Try not to worry about that,” Claudia says. “Just focus on resting and getting better.”

“Okay.” Hopefully he can fall asleep and just forget about this whole day. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll even wake up feeling well again.

Just as he closes his eyes, though, an itch flares up in his sinuses and his breathing hitches a few times before he sneezes. The force makes him groan.

“Bless you,” his sister says, gently wiping under his nose. “Poor thing.”

He gazes up at her through stinging eyes. “Thanks for taking care of me, Claudia.” He really doesn’t know what he’d do without her.

She smiles warmly. “You’re welcome, Sor-bear. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[mycrazylittleship]

Could you write a fic about hpcu-au s post about Theseus going into anaphylactic shock? I'd do it myself but my writing sucks (believe me, I tried)

funnily enough, I have written Theseus going into shock in the wizarding world. I’ll write another based off the post, but here is this in the mean time:

Title: Pears

Characters: Jacob, Newt, Michael (OC), Theseus (✔️), and a doctor

Newt and Jacob, whom he'd brought to give him a little taste of what the ministry was like in London, where he was welcome, as long as he was accompanied by a wizard; mostly for safety reasons, were in Theseus' office waiting for his 'visitor' pass to come in. Newt was sitting on Theseus' desk, staring down at his case as he waited, while Jacob was smiling and watching the paper doves fly in and lay documents on Theseus' desk.

"wow.." Jacob giggled and watched the files move around, jumping from one box to another and opening up to allow other documents to fly in, "that.. is so cool."

Newt was amused by Jacob's reaction to things, liking his laugh, "you're very easily excited."

"Hey, you would be too if you were a.." he made a face "watcha guys call me? No-Maj.. mag..mig.."

"muggle."  Newt smiled behind his bangs, "just muggle."

"muggle, right." he laughed again, "Things don't usually fly around like this. We gotta file this by hand." His eyes had a sparkle to them.

Michael came in first with his cup of coffee and smiled at them, "morning." he nodded at Jacob, "Mr. Kawalski, ya? Michael," He put out his hand, "It's nice to finally meet you." he looked at Newt, "he talks about you all the time. Well, you and.. Tina.." He winked at Newt, watching him blush.

"Jacob." He shook his hand then smiled at Newt, "aw, thanks, Buddy." He looked a little touched.

"Yes, well.." Newt looked away and fixed his coat, "This is my brother's partner.. and friend."

Michael smiled warmly, "I served with Theseus, and known Newt since he was about 5." He took a picture off his desk of the three of them, right after they got home from the war, "I went to Hogwarts with Theseus, same year."

Jacob watched the moving picture with aw in his eyes, "Newt, this picture is moving!"

Newt was glad for the distraction, "He's still new to all this..."

Michael nodded in understanding, putting the picture back, "Things are a bit different here than New York, I'm sure you noticed."

Jacob huffed, "ya. Yous guys don't mind hanging around muggles. I don't get as many dirty looks around here." He still smiled, not really offended either way.

"We find that muggles tend to be more accepting when they've fallen in love with a witch or wizard. They'll keep a secret for those they love. As long as you keep our secret, we have no problems. We marry muggles all the time." He shrugged and stood up straighter, "where is Theseus?"

As if on cue, the door opened, "sorry, The minister pulled me aside." He handed Michael a file, "We have another problem." He looked at Jacob, "Yes, Hello." He handed Jacob a sheet of paper, his whole demeanor seemed rushed and stressed but hidden behind a wall of a soldier,  "I'm sorry I can't tour you around, but we just recieved~"

"you're busy, I get it." Jacob nodded, "Catch up over dinner?" he looked at Newt, who was glaring at him slightly.

"Perhaps another time," Theseus gave a sympathetic smile, then turned to Michael, "there's been another breach." He quickly took a sip of his tea that was on the desk, before kissing Newt's forehead and rushing out, with Michael on his heels.

Newt looked confused and sniffed the air, brows furrowed.

"you alright?" Jacob was giving him a half smile half confused face, "I know you're not a fan of... What are you doing?" He huffed and raised an eyebrow at Newt, who was now sniffing Theseus' teacup.

"What does this smell like?" He shoved it in Jacob's face, half startling him, "Umm... Bergamont, citrus.. is this earl grey?" The look on Newt's face told him to keep going, silently telling him it's correct "oh uh... honey?" he took the cup, assuming this was important to Newt, "I can't really put my finger on it, but something else.." He looked confused, "like apple.. or.."

Newt took the tea back and sniffed it, "pear?" he almost looked panicked, hoping he was wrong.

"ya!" Jacob nodded.

Newt's face fell and he dropped the tea, the cup smashing and tea everywhere, before hopping over the desk and frantically looking through draws, "where is it!"

"Woah, Newt... what's wrong." Jacob was concerned after a reaction like that, "what are you looking for."

"Theseus is highly allergic to pears." He started to look panicked.

"like.. shock, bad?" Jacob went over and started going through drawers too, "THis?" it was a black bag.

Newt grabbed it, "Yes!" and sprinted out of the room, Jacob on his heals, "THESEUS!"

**

The moment Theseus left the room, he started to feel a bit warm, "He wants us to check the records room again," he cleared his throat and started moving his tongue around his mouth, feeling odd.

Michael glanced at him, then did a double take, "woah... " They were already halfway down the hall by now, "You're flushed.." He made Theseus stop walking and put a hand on his forehead, "do you have a fever?"

Theseus coughed a bit off to the side, "I felt fine.. a minute.. ago." He started wheezing, not able to breathe.

"Shit shit.." Michael caught him as he fell, Theseus clutching his throat, "NEWTON!" He yelled down the hall while holding Theseus upright.

Michael could see Newt running, holding the black bag, "THESEUS!"  

He slides down onto the floor, noticing how red and splotchy Theseus had become in such a short time.

"he can't breathe." Michael tried not to sound as freaked out as he was, "He hasn't eaten anything.. how?"

"The tea.. it had pears in it." Newt uncapped the pen and stabbed it into his thigh, "breathe, 'Seus.. breathe."

"What?!" Michael looked furious, "how did.." he stopped when Theseus started coughing, medicine working, "You're ok.. just breathe." He helped Theseus sit up and let him lean against his chest.

Theseus coughed into Michael's chest. A doctor came running in and began to check him, putting a mask over his face to help him breathe, "you're alright, son.."

Michael looked at Newt, "find out how that happened. It has to be related to the breach."

Newt eventually found out how pear got into his tea, the secretary had been duped, distracted by a man while another changed out the cups. She felt horrible about it, but they found the man, a Grindelwald supporter.

Theseus was out of the hospital wing within the hour, able to breathe, but his throat was sore and he couldn't speak very well. Red patches ran along his neck and chest, face pale and lips slightly swollen.  Michael had him laying down on the couch with a cold cloth on his eyes, hoping it would make him feel better.

Newt came in a few minutes later, volunteering to help with the case while his brother got some rest.

Theseus pipped up, "How did you know?" His voice was barely audible, but newt heard him.

"When you kissed me," Newt shrugged, "you smelled like pears."

Theseus took off the cloth to look at him, confused, "what?"

Michael stood up and nodded at Jacob, knowing these two needed a minute to themselves.

"I didn't even notice the pear taste in the tea, and you could.. smell.. it?" He coughed a bit into his fist, sitting up and turning towards him, wincing as his leg was a tad sore.

"I don't like pears.." Newt looked down, head turned slightly away from Theo, "I was 13.. when you found out."

"Mom brought home pears, we'd never had them before." Theseus nodded.

"dad didn't like pears-"

"and when he left, mom made everything he hated." Theseus came closer, "You never liked pears after that."  He was starting to understand where this was going.

"You were ok.. then you just~" Newt shook his head, "you just fell, and your face went blue."

"and that really scared you..." Theseus Knelled by his chair, "you could smell the pears, and it brought back that memory." When Newt nodded, he opened his arms and hugged his little brother, "you saved my life."

"stop needing saving." Newt hugged him back, gripping his shirt, "check your food." he sounded so small

"I promise." Theseus didn't know Newt was so scared from that reaction, having not thought about that day in years. He had an allergy, but it never really came up as pears were an easy thing to avoid, "everything's going to be ok."

Newt nodded and let go, still not a fan of hugs, but he did put a hand on Theseus's chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath, "as long as you stay away from pears."

Theseus chuckled a bit, "ya, little one." Theseus ignored the face he got for using his childhood nickname, "as long as I stay away from pears."

[nabongsunny]

감염 ( self para 6/? )

sunny really wasn’t feeling good at all, this had just grown over the last few days. the girl tried swallowing but her throat seriously hurt. she felt so tired, but at the same time she was far too hot to even think of sleeping. but what bothered her the most was she felt like she couldn’t go near jaebum. and the thought of it made her cry, and she’d curled up in the bed because she’d forced herself to stay away because these symptoms were getting worse, it had been almost five days and she felt 100 times worse than she had four days before.  if she had a cold, or the flu she definitely couldn’t and wouldn’t go near him. she didn’t want anyone to catch it, let alone jaebum and minho. which was why she’d slept at her father’s apartment. she’d dragged herself there after she’d closed the bar four nights before texting minho to tell him she had a cold and would see him and their son in a few days. 

 she felt her chest heaving as she  rolled over in the bed, the light shining through that tiny patch where the curtain was open caused her to flinch and she instantly covered her eyes a whine leaving her. pulling the blankets up over her head, the girl whined again when she moved, this was too much. she felt achey, and sore, and every time she moved it was like someone was stabbing her. she squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a breath as she rolled over again. she needed to stop moving. but she also needed to get up and do something or she’d end up laying there for days.

she felt freezing, her neck felt so stiff especially when she sat up. it was like she couldn’t even look down.  but the moment she’d sat, she felt herself heave and she she wet her dry lips and pushed herself off the bed and slowly made her way to the door. making it to the bathroom. where she vomited, she clung onto the toilet and  groaned, nothing else coming up after five minutes and sunny got up. and  it took her lifting her arm to notice the blotchy rash and she frowned staring at it for a minute. shit. what was happening? the minute she opened the bathroom door, sunny’s head began to ache and she closed her eyes briefly the light hurting her eyes. the girl just ached all over. she wanted to go lay back down but she needed to try and eat. she didn’t want to eat, in fact the thought made her feel sick. but she had to at least try, she hadn’t eaten in days. 

she opened the fridge to find it empty, cursing in korean sunny made her way back to the room and she got dressed. once she was she headed out and she made her way to the small store not too far from the apartment. she entered, despite feeling hot, she kept herself bundled up and she looked around, picking up some instant ramen. she hoped this was a cold, she could sweat it out with spicy food. but deep down she knew it wasn’t a cold. she just.. she didn’t want to accept it.  “sunny?” a voice came and she turned her head, the light causing her again to flinch and she focused, confused for a minute. seeing sam, grinning at her. “hey, tiny. how’s it going?” he asked. the girl tried her hardest to muster up a smile. “ hi sam.. fine i’m fine.. how are you?.” she breathed. the boy looked her over, furrowing his brows. “are you... you don’t look so good.” he told her. 

sunny swallowed and she shrugged. “i think i’ve got a really bad cold.. you should stay back.” she offered a small smile. he didn’t smile back at her he shook his head. “sunny that does not look like a cold. you look like death.” he frowned and he looked around as sunny adjusted the sleeves covering her arms and sam looked at her arm. “sunny..” he trailed off and she wet her lips looking at him and then at her arms. she thought for a minute he’d seen some scars but he must have been referring to the rash. “oh it’s.. i don’t know...i’m okay, i think.. i’ve taken an allergic reaction to something.” she sighed. sam took hold of her covered arm and pulled him with her. 

he picked up a glass and she frowned instantly feeling the cool glass against her skin and the girls eyes closed and she sighed, feeling a S L I G H T relief. she frowned when she heard sam curse and she looked at him. “what?” she asked and he pointed putting the glass down. “the rash isn’t going away, that’s not a good sign. i think you should go to the hospital.”  he breathed and sunny shook her head. “i’ll be fine. it’s just a rash.” she sighed covering her arm back up. “can you tell maisy i’ll call her?” she asked and sam went to open his mouth to speak but sunny had already taken off. 

clenching his jaw, he followed behind her. it wasn’t just a cold, or the flu, because she wasn’t moving as quickly as she usually was. in fact by the time he’d gotten outside behind her, sunny had pressed herself against the wall. panting as if she’d just ran for two miles.  he could see from the door that sweat had formed on her forehead and sam moved over to her. “hey..” he breathed and she shook her head. “i’m fine.” she whispered her sweaty forehead resting against the concrete wall. “sunny you’re not fine, okay? you need to go see a doctor.” he sighed and she whined as he touched her shoulder, trying to shrug him off  but she slumped against the wall, eyes closed and chest heaving. frowning even more sam saw no option but to lift her up. she felt so light as he held her, he knew she was small but that.. didn’t feel right. “come on. we’re going to the hospital.” 

sam put sunny into the car and by the time he’d gotten in, the girl was now slumped against the window in the car as he drove and eventually he got to the hospital, lifting sunny up onto his back, her arms more or less dangling over his shoulders. sam frowned, she’d completely passed out and  just as jae was walking out, sam entered and jae stopped. “sam?” he asked confused. “is.. that bongsun?” he asked him and sam nodded. “yeah.. i don’t know what’s going on. she’s got a really bad rash.. she’s sweating.. she.. she uh looks just.. really bad. her breathing is really bad.. she can’t look at the light. she fainted outside a store,  she wasn’t going to come here but.. i had to more or less pick her up and bring her.” he trailed off and sam looked over at jae and he nodded. 

“i’ll go get a doctor or a nurse, just.. stay there.” jae turned on his heels and he walked off. “appa..” sunny murmured, more than a few times, her head lolling against his sam’s shoulder and he frowned. he was becoming increasingly worried about her but before long jae had come back with a doctor, two nurses and a stretcher. jae gently lifted sunny from sam’s back and she whined at the contact, it caused jae to frown and he gently placed her on the stretcher and the doctor wheeled her off. jae wasn’t sure what was going on, but he and sam both took a seat. he was only heading home to get a change of clothes anyway so it could wait until he knew what was going on. 

“how long has it been?” jae muttered to sam and the other man sighed. “around two and a half hours.” he responded and he sat back against the chair, jae cursed. he should really call minho. just as he pulled his phone out, the doctor came out and walked over to them, perking up the minute his name was called jae stood, sam following and standing and the two men listened as he explained and jae puffed his cheeks out. as the doctor  explained that sunny had bacterial meningitis and they were lucky she’d been brought here and that she should be fine, telling them that she’d be able to be seen soon and they’d take her once she was all hooked up and ready,  and the doctor quickly walked off, jae shook his head.

 “jesus fucking christ.” he sat back down and ran a hand through his hair. “can you stay here a few minutes? i’m gonna call minho.” he breathed. sam nodded. “yeah of course.” jae headed out the door, lighting up a cigarette he leaned back against the wall, dialling his best friends phone number. once he was put through to the voicemail and the beep came through jae spoke, and once he was done he hung up and headed back in.  the doctor led both of them to the room and they entered as jae text minho the number and he took a seat next to sam, the two sitting. everything silent except from the beeping from the machines. 

[crammingforyourcollegecalamity]

Deciding if it's time to go to the doctor

This one isn't so much of a list post, just a general "don't be stupid" post.

Okay guys, you're living on your own, nobody around you is a real adult, and there is no one (save the med students, luck help them) who is experienced enough to self-diagnose what you have. luckily if it's obviously just something stupid like a cold or something there's no point in going to the doctor.

Even if you are vomiting that doesn't necessarily mean it's doc-O'clock. I suggest waiting two days, and if you symptoms have not let up at all and you are still vomiting or being ill in other ways then maybe getting a diagnosis is the smart move and don't just push it off like "it's just the flu" because you need to remember the flu still kills. Legit one of my classmate's mother died of the flu this year because she waited too long to go to the doctor and became dehydrated to the point of no return.

The need to go to the doctor still ranges out for more than just losing your lunch, it can be for SO MANY reasons. For instance trip in the quad and now your ankle is turning purple or black? You probably fractured it, go to the doctor. Strange rash that might just be heat-rash but also might be and allergic reaction? Go to the doctor. Throat feels swollen but you think it's just sore? Could literally be anything from asthma, to allergies, to strep to tonsillitis. If it persists for more than 2-3 days go to the doctor.

Ladies! Feeling unclean down town? If it burns and is swollen, it's almost certainly a yeast infection and those can very easily be treated with over-the-counter treatment found at any local drug store BUT if you've never had a diagnosed yeast infection before I reaaaallly, recommend getting it diagnosed at the doctor first before using the medicine found at the store just to be really sure it's a yeast infection because it may not be. It could be an allergic reaction, an early warning sign of an STD or even just the product of an unclean environment. Also, if you are constantly getting yeast infections (more than 2 in a month really) see a doctor because it can be a warning of SERIOUS underlying problems.

Last but not least! Do you remember having that one-night-stand after a party a few weeks ago? Hey that's okay, plenty of college kids do it, no judgment in university! But you also need to think of the consequences that could arise from your fun-without-the-sun. Chances are you were probably just a little drunk or tipsy or maybe a little stoned or maybe you were perfectly sober and just got so caught up in the moment you can't remember everything clearly. Did you use a condom? Is one of you on some kind of protection? Are you REEALLLY sure? Even so if you're starting to feel a little funky, ya know unexplained nausea, swollen ankles, even more fatigue than usual try a disposable pregnancy test (or urge the person you had the fancy frolic with if you notice these in them or suspect they may be pregnant) and see for yourself. If it comes back positive definitely go to the doctor, get a definitive test, and start talking about a pre-natal care (this is me assuming abortion is illegal where you are because it is almost everywhere. I'd never do it but your life is your life man) plan. Any thing you decide after that is up to you and the other parent.

If it comes back negative, GO TO THE DOCTOR ANYWAY! Disposable pregnancy tests are not 100% reliable and can give a false negative, or the symptoms you've been seeing can also (believe it or not) be indicative of an STD so go and get that treated ASAP!

I'm sure you're good at judging for yourself at any other point of when you need to go to the doctor but remember better safe than sorry kiddos! Stay safe out there!

Also if you don't know how to Schedual an appointment or don't think you can afford it I'll address that in a separate post later so keep an eye out!!

[sufferthesea]

Hi again! Could you please do another scenario with Genma with a shy reader that's not a ninja and it's there first date but she ends up getting sick and he surprises her by coming to take care of her?

This was perfectly timed because I always get sick in October-November. Now if only I had a cute ninja boy coming to take care of me while I sat on the couch and watched movies all day. /sigh/ 

Thank you for the request!! I had a lot of fun writing this!! Please let me know if you think my scenarios/headcanons are too long! Also I literally just figured out how to write Genma, idk how he’d text 😂 I did my best. 

Words: 3.144Rating: General Pairing: Genma x Reader

Thiswasn’t how it was supposed to go. When Genma asked you out twoweeks ago you had been so excited that you were near to crying - butyou were also incredibly nervous. Genma was one of the mostinteresting guys you’d ever met, and you felt as if you were theequivalent of a talking potato sack. Not to mention you weren’teven a ninja so why onearth he’d even bother with a civilian was beyond you. Someone ofhis caliber should really be looking for a girl just as strong andknowledgeable and brave and outgoing ashim. (You’d barely managed to squeak out a “yes” when he askedyou to dinner, and it took every ounce of strength just to look himin the eyes when he spoke to you.) He must’ve read the confusion onyour face because almost immediately after asking you out, he said:

“You know, you’rereally cute when you act shy. And I figured if I didn’t ask youout, we’d never get anywhere.”

You’dthought about that for the last fortnight, your face bright red and ashy giggle falling from your lips whenever his face appeared in yourmind. But among the excitement was a bit of fear and the typicalinsecurity you often faced. You’d never really gone on a datebefore and certainly had never been asked out by someone like Genma.He’d suggested something simple - just a small dinner at a curryshop outside of the village. He said it was a cute little place andhe was sure you’d like it because it was out of the way and fewpeople went all the way out there to eat. It was nice of him to thinkof you like that, but there was still so much pressure. Would youlike the food there? What if it was too spicy? What if he thought youate too much? Or not enough? The thought of someone watching you eatwas a little overwhelming. And what if - did you dare to evenentertain this thought so early in the relationship? - what if at theend of the night he tried to kiss you? What if he kissedyou and you had curry breath? You’dabsolutely die on the spot.

Unfortunately,stressing out for the last fourteen days had done the exact oppositeof helping your health and you woke up the day of the date with asore throat, runny nose, and pounding headache. You had somehowstressed yourself into a cold,and now you were even more miserable than before. (Of course itsurely had nothing todo with the fact that you’d left open the bedroom window the nightbefore and had kicked off your blanket in the middle of the night…)

“I can’t go on adate l-like this,” you shuddered, pulling a thick woolen blanketover your shoulders and sneezing into a tissue. “I can’t l-lethim see me like this.”

Forlornly,you looked towards the clock hanging on the wall and your heartdropped. It was already noon; six hours until you were supposed tomeet Genma at the gates so he could walk you to the restaurant. Thiswasn’t good. It’s not like you could take some magic pill to getbetter immediately, and you were certain that if you decided to go onthe date then something mortifying would happen - you’d sneeze onhim, or go into a coughing fit while eating, or you’d get himsick. You couldn’t risk it - not when you’d somehow managed tograb his attention in the first place. You weren’t going to ruin itby being grossly sick all over him in a restaurant. There was onlyone option, and it killed you to even think of it.

You’d have tocancel the date.

It’d be a lie tosay you didn’t cry for a few moments as you convinced yourself thatit’s what was best. Did you want to cancel the date or did you wantto show up and gross him out?

Gathering whateverremaining strength you had, you dug your phone out of your sweatpantspocket and went through your list of contacts before you foundGenma’s number. He’d given it to you when he asked you out, butyou hadn’t texted him before. Would your first text to him reallybe canceling the date? Sometimes the universe sucked.

Steadying your handsenough to text out a legible message, you pressed send and waitedwith bated breath, the pressure behind your eyes and in the bridgeof your nose growing.

Genma - can’tmake it. im sick. rain check?

Itwasn’t good to sit there and wait so you placed your phone on thefarthest part of the coffee table and curled up on the couch, feelingawful. Everything was starting to ache and you weren’t sure whatyou should do to feel better. Going to the hospital was out of thequestion - you weren’t dying,you just had a cold. And you didn’t want to be a burden on anybodyelse by asking them to come over and take care of you. So you werestuck with the only solution - suffer alone until you were better.

Your heart jumped atthe sudden buzzing of your phone vibrating on the table and you leaptup to grab it, hands shaking as you eagerly read the message fromGenma.

That sucks. We’llreschedule. Hope u feel better soon

He hoped you feltbetter soon?! That was so nice of him! Before you could finishgushing over the simple text, a second one came through.

Let me know ifthere’s anything I can do to help

Yourfingers moved quickly to type that he didn’t have to do anything,but then you stopped. He was asking - offering - to help you throughthis dreadful time. Would it be ruder to accept his invitation andpossibly get him sick, or to decline it and spare him the vision ofyou stuffed up and snotty? It really didn’t matter if you were at arestaurant or at home, you didn’t wanthim to witness you blowing your nose or hacking or just looking likeyou’d crawled out some Pit Of Disgusting. You hated to admit it,but you got kind of whiny whenever you were ill and it was prettyembarrassing. With a little bit of heartache, you finished the textand sent it.

No, that’s okay- thx tho. I appreciate it

Almost immediately,another response sent your phone buzzing in your hands.

Anything for you;)

Youvaulted the phone away quickly, your body instantly burning hot, asurprised laugh escaping your mouth. “Wh-What? What was that?”you wheezed, pulling the blanket up to your face and staring inelation at the phone now lying on the floor across the room. “He -He put a - a winking face! What does th-that mean? Does he … oh mygosh.” Hiding under the blanket, you allowed yourself to gigglechildishly and closed your eyes tight. Genma’s perfect face wasthere - a smile gracing his features. He put a winkingface! That was good, right? Andhe’d said “anything for you”. Anythingfor you. Anything for you.How did he mean it? Would he really do anything for you? Your stomachgrowled and you grimaced; maybe you should have asked him to bringyou something to eat …

The phone buzzedagain and you practically threw yourself across the room to grab it,scrambling to clutch it close your face and read the message.

U allergic toanything?

Confused, you rereadthe message and checked to see who it was from. Genma had sent it,that was certain but … Did he think you’d called off the datebecause you had had an allergic reaction or something? Or - did hethink you’d canceled the date because you were allergic to curry?You were legitimately sick and this boy thought you were skipping outbecause you didn’t like his taste in food?

No - im good. Notcurry!! hahaha I was looking forward to eating there /:

Thatwas good enough, right? Assure him that you weren’t avoiding himbecause of that little restaurant, and that you actually didwant to go with him.

Same. Oh well.Maybe next week.

Then, a secondlater:

What r ursymptoms? Like are u coughing and sneezing? Sore throat? Or somethingelse?

Was he concernedthat your illness would still be there by next week when you actuallywent on your date? You shifted on the ground, resting on your elbowsas you thought over what to say. The point of canceling the date wasto keep him from knowing what you were going through at the moment.

Youtyped slowly, regretting every letter of your text: headache,sore throat, runny nose, congestion, sinus, everything hurts!!! ))):I feel like death tbh

Five minutes passedof absolute silence and your chest twisted in embarrassment. Had yousaid too much? You knew it - you’d messed this up. No good. Genmawould surely ditch you and go for some girl with a perfect immunesystem who looked absolutely glamorous even when she was suffering,and certainly didn’t complain about it. When another five minutespassed without a response, you pulled yourself back onto the couchand cuddled under your blanket and sighed heavily. Why did it have tohappen now?! Today of all days.

The phone buzzedagainst your chest and you yelped, jolting upwards and dropping it tothe ground. Fumbling around for it, you grabbed another tissue fromthe nearly empty box on the table and dabbed at your sore nose.

Grape or orange?

Nowthis was getting weird. Your response was only: what?

Genmaswiftly replied: Do you prefer grape or orange? Or cherry??

Uh… I don’t …care????? What is this for?

Insteadof answering, he simply asked: did u still want to go tothe curry place next week? I’ll pick u up next time. What’s uraddress?

Stumped, you staredat the glaring screen in your hands. What was going on? He was actingstrange. But your cold-infested brain wasn’t willing to work withyou to figure out what he was doing so you merely texted back youraddress. He stopped responding and you wondered if it was a mistaketo tell him where you lived. It was almost one o’clock and youreyes were feeling the weight of your illness. Sniffling into yourhandful of tissues, you curled up on your side and let yourself fallasleep.

An hour later youwere woken up by heavy knocks at your front door. It startled youawake and you rolled off of the couch, dazed and utterly lost as towhat was happening. Scrambling to your feet, you wiped drool off ofyour face and ambled over to the door, your voice croaking in pain asyou muttered, “Coming …”

Groggily, you pulledopen the door and looked blearily out into the bright world. Youshaded your eyes and squinted at the shadowed figure filling yourdoorway.

“You look as badas you said you feel,” came a voice.

Your eyes widenedand you dropped your hand, finally realizing that it was none otherthan Genma standing at your door.

“Wh-What are youd-doing here?!” you shouted, throwing your hands up to coveryourself although there was nothing to be covered. You were alreadydressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, and although your hair waswild and uncombed and your nose was as red as the swirl on Genma’sjonin jacket, you weren’t indecent. Still it was almost shameful tobe standing before such a beautiful man looking like you’d climbedout of a dumpster recently.

“Aren’t yougoing to invite me in?” Genma asked, a small smirk playing on hislips.

Youglanced back at your small apartment and you could almost feelyour cold lingering on the air. He didn’t want to go in there. “Uh… you’ll … you’re gonna get sick -!”

“Don’t worry, Igot it covered.” Genma reached into one of the half dozen bags hewas carrying and pulled out a white surgical mask, using one hand tomaneuver it onto his face. You’d only just now noticed his senbon was nowhere to be seen. “See? Now I won’t catch whatever youhave. Heh, do I look like Kakashi now?” 

“What?”

“He… you’re not a ninja. Right. You’ve probably seen him around.Kind of weird … got hair out to herethat’s silver, always has a mask on, always reading that orangebook.”

“No, I - I knowwho you’re talking about. I m-mean … What is all that?” Youmotioned to the different bags Genma was carrying and he grinned fromear to ear (not that you could see it).

“Well I figuredsince you weren’t up to going out tonight, we could have a nightin. Is that alright?”

“What? Really?”

“Sure.” He heldup a few bags with a local market’s logo across it. “This is somemedicine - I got three different kinds, since none of them coveredall of your symptoms. I also got you some tissues - it sounded likeyou’d need them.”

You looked away andblushed, trying to stealthily dab at your running nose with acrumpled tissue. “Th-Thanks.”

“Noproblem. I also got us dinner - or lunch, I guess.” He held up two paper bags from arestaurant you’d passed by before. “I wasn’t entirely sure whatyou eat, so I got a few different things.” He then shook a fewother bags strung along his arm, “And then I grabbed us somedrinks. Nothing alcoholic, though. Didn’t think you needed to betipsy and sick. Iwouldn’t make you wake up tomorrow hungover with a cold.” 

You stared inabsolute awe at the man, a happy smile spreading across your face. “W… Wow! That’s so n-nice of you! I d-didn’t think … I thoughtyou’d …”

Hecocked an eyebrow and showed you the bags again. “Listen, Iappreciate the thanks but canI come in? I’ve walked all over the village with these.”

“Oh! R-Right.Sorry.” You stepped aside to let him in and he glanced around yourapartment.  

“This is cute. Youlive alone?”

“Y-Yes …”

“Good. I don’twant anyone disturbing our date.” He dropped the bags onto thecoffee table and looked back at you. “Actually, I just don’t wantto share my food with anyone but you.”

A dry, croakygiggle jumped out of your throat before you could stop it and youcovered your face in shame. Genma gave a soft laugh himself and wavedyou over to the couch.

“Don’t beembarrassed; you’re sick. Come on. I also bought tea leaves to makeyou something hot to drink, since I’m sure you could use it. Whydon’t you put a movie in and I’ll get started on making the tea?”

Defeated, youcrumpled to the floor in front of the small media cabinet that yourtelevision was sitting on. You only had a few DVDs and you’dwatched them all to death, but if picking a movie meant you’d getyour date after all then you’d bite your tongue and suck it up. Youchose one of the more exciting films - something you’d seen once inthe village’s theater and had liked enough to purchase - and pushedthe disc into the DVD player. By the time you made it back to yourseat on the couch, Genma was arriving with two mugs full of hot tea.He handed you one and your entire body warmed with the heat of thecup. He pushed the edge of your blanket out of the way and sat downnext to you, setting aside his cup and digging through the plasticbags on the table.

“Here’s themedicine,” he said as he deposited one bag into your lap and pulledanother bag closer.

Whenyou looked through it you found three different flavors of cold syrup - orange, grape, and cherry. So that’swhat he was talking about.

“And here’s thetissues.” He then opened the two paper bags and pulled out steamingtake-out cartons. “Just tell me what you want and you can have it.”

Silently, youadmired the man beside you as he shuffled around the cartons and setup a line of bottled drinks. He caught your eye and raised aneyebrow, and you could sense the questioning smile hiding behind thesurgical mask.

“What?”

“Noth-Nothing!”You held your cup tighter and brought it to your face, breathing inthe earthy scent of tea. “I just … really appreciate this.Th-Thank you.”

“No problem. Iwasn’t going to pass on an opportunity to go on a date with you.Even if it’s …” He motioned around the apartment and shrugged.“I didn’t really feel like walking all the way out to that curryplace tonight anyway.”

Feeling a bit bold,you gave him a serious look (which was made fairly intimidating withthe deep bags under your eyes and the raw skin around your nose) andsaid, “Well don’t think - uhm - that you’ll get out of t-takingme there one day … You promised me a-a date there … and I expectt-to go there.”

Genma pulled downthe mask to reveal his broad grin, his eyes locked on yours. “We’llgo when you feel better. Promise.”

You smiled back andpressed the rim of the hot cup to your lips. “You know - you didn’thave to go through all of this for me.”

“I said anything,didn’t I?”

“Huh?”

Genma pulled out apair of disposable chopsticks and broke them apart, handing you oneof the take-out containers. “I said I’d do anything for you,right? I meant it. Mostly. Some things I wouldn’t - … Anythingwithin reason, I guess. This was no bother. This the movie you wantto watch?”

He changed thesubject so quickly your foggy brain had a hard time keeping up. “Yeah… uhm, thank - thank you.”

Genma gave you asideways glance and a small smile pulled at his mouth. “You’dbetter stop talking before you lose your voice. We won’t be able totalk when we go out next week. Then what’ll we do?”

Shrinking into thewarmth of the blanket, you nodded. “Uh - oh, well … What if I’mnot feeling better by next week?”

“Oh, you will,”Genma said as he relaxed into the couch, kicking his legs up onto thecoffee table. “I’m gonna take care of you until you feel better,so you’ll have no excuse for canceling our next date.”

Blushing hotly, younodded and smiled down into your tea. You were starting to think thatmaybe being sick wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[crispychrissy]

Shrink - Chapter 32

Summary: When patients of a psychiatrist that caters exclusively to hunters start going crazy and dying, Sam and Dean Winchester investigate what might be causing these bizarre episodes. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Ellen Barnes Word Count: 1277 Warnings: None, bit-o-fluff and Cas being adorable A/N: My first fanfic! This is going to be a series, probably over 30 chapters total. Any feedback is appreciated, I am a newbie!

Ellen smiled at Sam, her eyes welling up when she noticed his eyes were bloodshot from tears. Sam's expression instantly hardened as he reached behind him and pulled the demon blade out from his back pocket, holding it out in front of him at Ellen. "Whoa...whoa, relax. It's me." Ellen raised her hands in surrender, her eyes flicking back and forth between Cas and Sam. "It is true, she's not a demon." Cas said, squinting his eyes. "But I don't understand. How are you alive?" "Joshua. He gave me a choice. I could stay in Heaven or return to my body and continue my destiny." Ellen shrugged and motioned to her body. "I guess you know what my answer was." "But, why? You were in Heaven. Didn't you want to stay?" Sam asked as he sheathed the knife again. Dean looked at Ellen in the rear view mirror before sneezing twice. "Bless you." Ellen chuckled before turning back to Sam. "My work is too important. I'm one of a kind, as Joshua said. My passion is where my patients are, and I can't help hunters from Heaven." Ellen said, absently picking at the pilled fabric of the blanket on her lap. "That is very honorable, Ellen." Cas said, helping Ellen shift her legs off his lap and turn forward in the back seat. "One person can have such a profound affect on millions of destinies, and I am positive you alone will have a large impact based on the work you do."

"What if I wasn't alone?" Ellen said, causing both Sam and Cas to tilt their heads in confusion. "I mean, what if I trained other psychiatrists to be able to handle hunters? The more there are, the more hunters we could help. It could be a network or therapists and psychiatrists scattered across the United States. We could do referrals and-"

"Slow down, Doc. You just got brought back to life. Take a breather." Dean said, smirking at her in the rear view mirror before sneezing once again. "Sorry, bless you again." Ellen chuckled. "I guess being brought back to life makes you have a different perspective on how little time you really have." "I hear that." Sam mumbled. "I'm glad you're alright, Ellen. Do you feel okay?" "Yeah, I'm a bit sore...but otherwise I'm fine." Ellen smiled and patted Dean's shoulder. "At least I didn't have to dig my way out of a buried coffin." "Ha. Ha." Dean said sarcastically. "I was cleaning dirt out of my ears for months." "Well, at least I have my answer now." Ellen smiled. Sam turned around, leaning his arm over the back of the front seat, smiling. "Answer to what?" "What my heaven is like." She patted Sam's arm and squeezed his hand lightly. Dean sneezed once more and groaned in the front seat. "What the hell is going on?" "Are you okay, Dean? Did you catch a cold?" Ellen asked carefully pressing the back of her hand against the top of Dean's forehead. "Hey, driving here! I'm fine." He swatted Ellen's hand away. "I only sneeze like this when there's a cat around." Ellen's eyes went wide and she began digging around, shoving the blanket from her lap and onto Cas, causing him to grunt in confusion. "Oh my GOD!" Ellen's voice squeaked as she reached down to the floor next to rear driver's side door. She pulled a very scared green-eyed Maine Coon into her lap and began stroking it's fur. "Where did you get a cat?" Cas asked, staring at the creature. "Purrito. He was my cat in college. Died when my apartment caught fire. He was in my heaven." Ellen scratched between his ears, causing him to purr louder. "I guess Joshua has a soft spot for cats." Dean sneezed again, his eyes starting to water. "Feline resurrections aside, we're going to need to get another car. I can't drive if my eyes are watering and I'm sneezing every twenty seconds." "Dean, here." Cas reached up and pressed two fingers to Dean's head. Dean shook his head, slapped Cas' hand away, and furrowed his brow. "People touching me! Knock it off! What did you do to me?" "You are no longer allergic to cats." Cas stated, looking at the cat crawling on Ellen's lap. Ellen caught Cas' sideways glance and smiled, picking up Purrito and placing him on Cas' lap. "Really Cas? All this time I've been allergic to cats and now you decide to get rid of it?" Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I was...not aware...you were allergic...until now." Cas stammered as the cat kneaded it's paws on his legs and laid down. Ellen giggled at how uncomfortable Cas was, before she reached out and moved the angel's hand to Purrito's head. "Scratch between his ears like this." Ellen moved his fingers over the area between the cat's ears, causing him to purr loudly and lean into Cas' fingers. "It's...vibrating. Why is it vibrating? Am I upsetting it?" Cas stopped scratching and looked at Ellen with concern. "He's purring, Cas. It's a sign of contentment, pleasure, or love. He likes what you're doing. Some humans like it, too." Ellen reached up and ran her fingernails through Sam's hair and scalp, causing him to groan softly and close his eyes. "Alright, Doc. Keep your hands to yourself, please. I don't want to hear those noises coming from Sam." Dean said, motioning to the area between them. "I remember from when I was human how pleasurable it was to scratch an insect bite I had received. I can understand Sam's reaction." Cas said, still awkwardly scratching the cat's head. "So where are we headed?" Ellen asked. shifting in her seat. "We were heading back to the bunker to burn your body, but...well...you're alive now...so..." Dean said, shrugging. "Yeah." Ellen chuckled to herself. "I'll give you directions to my house. The case is closed, so you don't need me anymore, right?" "Sure. I'm sure you have a lot of patients to see." Sam cleared his throat. "We'll stick around and help you clean up the office and get a new receptionist if you want." "We will?" Dean asked, looking at Sam. "Yes, Dean. All the stuff she does for hunters...it's the least we can do." Sam said through clenched teeth. Dean raised his hand in surrender. "Alright, alright. Where to, Doc?" "I live in Broken Arrow. It's southeast of Tulsa. If we're heading toward your bunker in Kansas, you're going to have to turn around." Ellen said, peering out the windows to look for highway signs. "We're on 35 North, a good hour and a half away from Tulsa. We can turn around at the next exit up there." Sam pointed to an exit sign that indicated it was one mile ahead. "Sounds good. Thanks guys." Ellen smiled before feeling Cas tap her arm. "Ellen. Why is he biting my hand? I thought he was enjoying the scratching?" Cas said as Purrito continued to bite and scratch at Cas' hand, softly growling. "If you scratch too long, it upsets them. If he stops purring, you can remove your hand so he falls asleep." Ellen laughed as Cas tried to pry his hand from the grip of the cat. "Such complicated creatures. Maybe we could have one in the bunker." Cas said, smiling at the cat in his lap that was currently on his back with his paws up in the air, swiping at Cas' hand. "No." Dean and Sam both responded at the same time. Ellen laughed and looked out the window as Dean pulled off the exit to turn around back toward Tulsa.

[whiskeyworen]

Things about me.

Feel free to skip this. It’s just personal stuff about me that I kinda want people to know about. It’s not a need, unless you ever meet me. See, I just finished reading a very long, powerful post chain about allergies, and the importance of listening when someone says “I’m sensitive to X” or “I’m allergic to Y” no matter the degree of said sensitivity and allergic reaction. My first reaction was to continue the chain, adding my own to it...but then I realized that compared to the ones I’d read, mine are exceedingly minor, and I might actually incur backblast from people forwarding the rest of the chain, because they might view me as ‘not taking it seriously’ when I actually very much do. So I decided to make this post, and put my stuff below the Keep Reading, so as not to clutter up people’s feeds or make them read something they don’t wanna. Feel free to take a gander if you’re curious, but again, it’s not a need-to-know. Not unless you ever have the (mis)fortune of meeting me in person. LOL

1: Lactose Intolerance. This is kinda generic for me. I don’t have a particularly bad reaction to milk, dairy, cheese, etc... but I do have one. It’s almost on a meter scale; the more I have, the worse I am off later. I can tolerate dairy...to a degree. I can have my ice cream, my milk, my cheese. Just not loads of it. A Cheese pizza will make me feel very sick later, even while I eat it. If I have ‘too much’, I start feeling tired, and develop head cold symptoms. Aches and pains all over, stuffy headed, and the ‘raccoon eyes’ look. If I have way too much... well, anyone with full blown LI who has a reaction knows the rest. It’s not pretty or pleasant. I didn’t know I was LI until several years ago. I only realized when I ended up cutting cheese and milk out of my diet, and I started feeling WAY better. Everyone had thought I was perpetually sick, but it turned out I was having one long, continuous reaction to my diet. The irony is, my LI reaction actually put stress on my last relationship, though neither of us knew at the time. We’d go out for dinner, or make dinner at home, and my ex was a cheese-a-holic. Cheese on everything. Lots of dairy. Just loved it. And I’d go along because, well, I too like cheese. But my body simply didn’t. And once a reaction started... You can see how it’d put a kibosh on things if a romantic dinner at home ended in one person feeling sick and just not into anything. LoL. And to be perfectly honest, if I started reaching my limit when it came to dairy and cheese, I always find myself involuntarily gagging. My body literally starts rejecting input and is like “Nope. No more dairy. Take a break. A long one. Go lie down while we sort this out.” 2: Lilies. Easter Lilies specifically, and ALL products using Lily extract, Lily oil, Lily ANYTHING. This is actually a pretty bad allergy. Once again, a case of ‘why do I feel so sick all the time’ only just around Xmas or Easter. Found out why one Easter when I brushed a hand against the pistil of an easter lily, and within a few seconds a painful welt had raised. Couple that with the fact that if I was within 20 feet of one, I’d start wheezing and gasping, my sinuses would fill and lock off, and I essentially went blind when my eyes swole up so badly and were so painfully sore. Sufficed to say, I avoid them at my workplace like the plague when the season is around, and I don’t attend church anymore. I also carefully check perfumed items for Lily extracts, as well as test them if I recieve them as a gift. If I get a reaction even once, I don’t use whatever it was I got. As a result, I don’t tend to wear strong colognes or use strongly scented soaps. It’s hard to feel good about smelling good when you can’t see properly, or your skin hurts, etc. No amount of pain is worth someone possibly maybe almost kinda noticing ‘Hey, you smell kinda nice.’ I can handle light stuff though, which is what I use. So I don’t smell like a damned yak, or a ‘I only smell like what the human body is supposed to smell like ‘ person. Bleah. 3: Aloe Barbadensis: This one was a surprise, but every encounter I’ve had with the moisturizing miracle plant has left me with sore, cracked, aching, bleeding skin. Apparently something like 10% of the population has a reaction to the stuff that’s the opposite of what does for the other 90%. I realized I was allergic to it when I was offered a hand lotion for dry skin, and it made my skin even drier, made it swell slightly, and go painful. Thinking back, I think of the times I had sunburns and someone gave me aloe gel to cool and soothe those burns...and the burns would instead feel like millions of needles after a few seconds, and were painful to AIR travelling over them. Moreso than when I stopped using the ‘coolant’ gel. I don’t ever want to think about what it’d do to my throat if I drank Aloe drinks... I know I’ve sampled some without realizing, and it made my esophagus extremely itchy. A full drink would probably make it swell shut and I’d be in the hospital. These days, I check every soap and shampoo and lotion I get for ‘Aloe barbadensis leaf juice’ and if it has it... I don’t use it.  A shame that 90% of stuff people get me out of the goodness of their hearts as gifts end up having the stuff in it. 4: Mushrooms: Not the ‘oh boy fun time’ mushrooms, though I’d probably be allergic to those too. I’m talking about Fungi in general. I’m badly allergic to grass mould, so when there’s a snowmelt outside, I gotta dose up on anti-allergy meds pretty hard. I’m also allergic to your garden variety (literally) eating mushrooms. This sucks, because my family loves things like porkchops with mushroom sauce, or steaks with sauteed mushrooms, or chili with mushrooms in it, and things like that. And it REALLY sucks for me because... I LIKE Mushrooms. When properly done, I absolutely love them. I love them in stirfry, in sautees, on pizza. But holy hell, do Mushrooms not love me back. If I eat them, I will enjoy them. and then I will have to cancel my plans for the next 18 hours, starting at the SAME HOUR I ATE THEM. Because the reaction is that fast, that brutal, and that painful. How painful? I want you to picture a spiked ball about the size of your fist. Make it nothing but glass shard spikes. Just unrelenting, fractal arranged glass shard spikes in the vague shape of a ball. Now imagine that very SLOWLY dragging its way through every inch of your gut, starting at your stomach. Over hours. People who have had kidney or urinary tract stones will know what kind of pain this is like. I can make that comparison at least, because I’ve had a stone or two in my time when I was really ill. To that spiked ball, imagine it moves one inch per hour, rotating slowly as it does so. It feels like something with claws, fangs, spikes, and blades is lacerating its way through you. I have cancelled plans because of this. Had entire days just nullified because I accidentally ate a handful of mushroom slices, or something else I ate was marinated in like, a truffle oil or had the oil from sauteed mushrooms on it or in it. At restaurants, I gently ask my server if they could find out what the source of their gravy (particularly for fries and stuff) is from. Like, specifically is it Beef or meat-based, or is it vegetable based. Most of the veggie stuff tends to use mushrooms which clearly is not good for me. They usually oblige me because a lot of places are intensely careful about allergies as long as you announce them. Sadly, I’ve had to stop Poutine-ing up my fries at my favorite restaurant, and I don’t get the gravy with my fries at work anymore, for that reason. Both are veggie-base gravy. I can handle a very small amount of mushroom or mushroom oil, but not at all much. And I don’t like trying to figure out just how much, because I don’t like feeling like I’m being eaten alive AND turned inside out by razor hooks. There are GODS out there that have heard my desperate pleas, and turned a blind eye to my plight. None of these allergies, with the exception of perhaps the Lily extract or ingesting Aloe, will ever kill me or nearly kill me. But they make life sometimes unbearable or unworkable, and always painful. Some might say I’m exaggerating my allergies, and that they aren’t that serious. Which, ironically, is especially intolerant of my support of THEIR allergies and desires to let people know how important theirs are to monitor. This has been.... stuff about me. I’m surprised if you read this far. Congrats. you now know more about me than half of my real life friends.