#ill just sleep it off and everything will be fine. probably.

[verycoolsnails]

My no.1 hobby is messing with my ocs. Specifically 🎭they're so funny.

[connormoving]

its so embarassing likee. going to talk abt a feeling you have but you already know ppl will be like Oh that sounds like depression lol and its like. well yes . i know . trust me i am so aware i am depressed . but its still like a thing ive been thinking abt and wanting to talk abt but ik itll just be like Ok hun 👍. idk idk what response i would want tho ig FNFNFNF

[davepetea]

.

[puppysdog]

having a whats the point of it day

[vunblr]

Even the Tallest Pines

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Slight Angst.

Summary: Bucky is used to pushing through, working until the ache fades, going on until his body just starts functioning as it should again. But when illness knocks him down this time, he learns that even the tallest pines need someone to lean on.

Word Count: 5k.

note: Part of the Roots and Branches AU

Bucky barely had time to turn away before the sneeze hit him like a damn freight train.

“Fuck!” He braced a hand on the workbench, sniffling hard as a shiver made his body tremble.

“Jesus, man.” Sam’s voice came from across the workshop, charged with equal concern and disgust. “That was violent.”

Bucky grumbled something unintelligible, rubbing a rough hand down his face. His head felt stuffed with cotton, his throat was raw, and his joints ached like he’d been thrown off a roof. He ignored it. There was still work to be done.

But five minutes later, another sneeze ripped through his body, and it was so forceful it made him stumble.

“Alright, hell no.” Sam dropped the plank of wood he was carrying, pointing at him. “Get your plague-ridden ass outta here.”

“M’fine,” Bucky muttered, grabbing a rag to wipe his nose.

Sam stared at him like he had finally lost his damn mind. “Man, look at you. You’re dripping. Ain’t nobody tryin’ to catch whatever biohazard you got.”

Bucky sniffed hard, straightening. “I can still work.”

Sam let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You sneezed so hard just now I thought you were about to bust a damn lung.” He crossed his arms. “Go home, Buck. Before I make you.”

Bucky scowled, tensing his shoulders. He hated being benched, hated feeling useless. But the fact that his knees were actually wobbly was probably a bad sign. He exhaled sharply, mumbling, “Fine,” before turning and grabbing his things.

As he trudged toward the door, Sam called after him, “And text somebody when you get home, man. Let ‘em know you’re still alive.”

Bucky just lifted a hand in half-assed acknowledgment, pushing the door open and stepping into the cold. The wind hit him like a slap to the face, and he bit back a shiver.

He wasn’t telling anyone shit.

With heavy steps, he made his way to his truck, already planning his next move, go home, take a scalding shower, pour a generous glass of whiskey with lemon and honey, and then sleep the damn flu off.

No need to make a big deal out of it.

-----

He slumped onto the couch the second he got home, his body throbbed with exhaustion. His muscles ached, his joints felt stiff and useless, and his head pounded in time with his pulse. But the worst part -the absolute worst- was his arm.

It always acted up when he was sick, a cruel reminder that no matter how much time passed, it still was going to give him trouble, and always will. The ache ran deep, seeping into the tendons mingled with metal, an uncomfortable weight that pulled at his shoulder, making everything feel wrong. He rolled it absently, wincing when the dull throb sharpened and radiated up to his neck.

He sighed, dragging a hand over his face, trying to muster the energy to move. He still had to shower and still had to set up near the fireplace since his bed would feel like an icebox tonight. But first-

He pulled out his phone and sent her a text.

Doing alright?

Simple. Normal. No reason for her to suspect anything. He knew if she heard him, she’d know immediately that something was off. His voice was half-gone already, scratchy and hoarse, and he wasn’t about to deal with her fussing.

A second later, his phone vibrated with her reply.

Yeah, all good! You?

Bucky smirked faintly, already knowing what she’d say if he did tell her the truth. Come over. I’ll make you soup. You need medicine, Bucky. Have you even taken anything?

He exhaled through his nose, typing back:

Mhm. Just sitting by the fire.

Not a lie, technically.

She sent a heart emoji in response, and Bucky huffed a small laugh before mirroring the action and setting the phone aside. He pushed himself to his feet, groaning when his back protested, and forced himself into the bathroom.

The shower helped, but only a little. The scalding heat loosened his stiff muscles, and let some of the aches drain away, but the fever still burned beneath his skin, making him feel both too hot and too cold all at once. He stood under the spray longer than necessary, pressing his forehead against the tiles, letting the steam work on his stuffed nose.

Eventually, he shut off the water, wrapping a towel around his waist as he padded into the kitchen. His body craved sleep, but first, the whiskey.

He grabbed the bottle from the cabinet, pouring a generous amount into a glass before adding a squeeze of lemon and a spoonful of honey. It was an old habit, something he’d done back in the war when there weren’t fancy medicines to knock out a cold. The honey soothed his throat, the lemon cut through the congestion, and the whiskey? Well, the whiskey made sure he wouldn’t be awake long enough to care about how miserable he felt.

Drink in hand, he moved to the fireplace, tossing another log onto the dwindling embers before settling onto the floor. His mattress would feel too big tonight, too cold, too empty. The fire would keep him warm enough, and the heat might help with the damn chills.

He downed half the glass in one go, and the burn spread down his throat and settled deep in his stomach. His body thanked him for it moments later, as the tension eased just enough to let his muscles relax.

The last thing he remembered before the sleep took him was the way the fire crackled softly, and how its warmth flickered over his skin, lulling him into heavy, dreamless oblivion.

Somewhere in the night, his phone vibrated from the coffee table, once, twice, three times. Then, his battery went dead.

----

She was finishing her morning coffee when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” she greeted, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder as she grabbed a slice of toast.

“What’s up?” Sam replied. “Hey, is Bucky with you?”

She frowned. “No, why?”

“Because he left his wallet at the shop yesterday. I’ve been calling him, but he’s not answering.”

She straightened in her chair. She thought back to the night before, he had texted her like he normally did if he was tired, and nothing seemed off… but now that she thought about it, he never responded when she sent a goodnight message.

“What?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “He didn’t go to work today?”

Sam let out a short huff. “Nah, I sent his ass home yesterday. He looked like hell, sneezing all over the damn place. Told him to rest up.”

Bucky hadn’t told her.

Of course, he hadn’t.

“I’ll go check on him,” she said, already pushing back her chair and reaching for her jacket.

“Yeah, do that,” Sam replied. “And if he gives you any attitude, knock some sense into him for me.”

But she barely heard him as she shoved on her boots and grabbed her keys.

Bucky was sick. His phone was off.

And she knew damn well he wasn’t taking care of himself.

---

Before driving to Bucky’s place, She made a quick stop in town to gather supplies. Vegetables for soup, jelly powder in case his throat was too sore for real food, and a few non-prescription meds to help with the symptoms.

Stubborn man.

Still reluctant to show vulnerability, still keeping things to himself, using his own damn words, don’t wanna be a bother. Like he hadn’t spent his entire life carrying burdens that were never meant to be his alone.

She suspected it had everything to do with what happened after he was discharged. The arm, the way people looked at him, the other things he never talked about. Being abandoned, discarded, and left to figure it all out on his own. No wonder he still acted like needing help was some kind of failure.

Her grip strengthened on the steering wheel as she pulled onto the winding road leading to his cabin. She exhaled slowly, shaking off the frustration. No use being mad at him for something so deeply ingrained in his brain. She’d just have to remind him, again, that he didn’t have to all alone.

When she finally reached the cabin, she pulled into the driveway and immediately noticed the curtains were drawn, but his truck was parked there. So, he was home.

She knocked first, out of courtesy.

No answer. Not that she expected one.

With a sigh, she pulled out her spare key and let herself in.

The moment she stepped inside, she was hit with the heavy warmth of the fire, the thick scent of whiskey in the air. Her stomach twisted as her eyes landed on him.

Bucky was sprawled out on the floor near the fireplace, tangled in a mess of damp sheets, his bare body slick with sweat. His face was flushed and his brow was furrowed even in sleep. And beside him, within arm’s reach, was an almost empty bottle of scotch.

She exhaled through her nose, setting the bags down before crouching beside him. “Jesus, Buck…” she muttered, brushing her fingers over his burning forehead.

His skin was scorching, his breathing deep and heavy, completely dead to the world.

She sighed, shaking her head, but there was no real anger behind the gesture, just worry.

Stubborn idiot.

She took a moment to think about her next move, rubbing a hand over her face as she glanced between Bucky’s fever-flushed body and the mess of his living room floor.

First things first, his bed.

She made her way to the bedroom, flipping on the lamp. As expected, the sheets were still mostly untouched, a little rumpled but nowhere near as messy as they should’ve been if he’d actually been using them. A few pieces of clothing were scattered over the mattress, along with some clutter, proof that he’d been avoiding the space -again-.

With a sigh, she got to work. She stripped the bed, shaking out clean sheets and pulling up fresh blankets, making sure the space was comfortable enough for when she dragged his stubborn ass in here. Once that was done, she grabbed a glass of water, filled it to the brim, and placed it on the nightstand along with the medicine she bought. At least that would be ready when he finally woke up.

And now, for the hardest part, getting him up.

She stepped back into the living room, crossing her arms as she stared down at him. He hadn’t moved, still deeply asleep, with sweat clinging to his skin, breathing slow and heavy.

Alright, big guy, she thought. Time to move.

Crouching down beside him, she reached for his shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

“Bucky,” she called, keeping her voice gentle. No response.

She shook him again, a little harder this time. “Come on, Buck. You can’t sleep on the floor like that.”

A low, irritated grumble escaped his lips, but he didn’t open his eyes.

She sighed, pressing her lips together. She patted his cheek lightly, and her voice took on that patient but no-nonsense tone. “Bucky. Wake up.”

Another grumble, and this time, he shifted slightly, furrowing his brows even deeper. His lips parted as he let out a hoarse, barely coherent, “Wha’?”

She huffed. “You need to get up and go to bed. Come on, I’ll help.”

He cracked one eye open, bleary and unfocused, before immediately shutting it again. “M’fine.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, sure. You look fine,” she deadpanned. “Come on, darling. Work with me here.”

Bucky groaned, clearly not interested in cooperating, but when she tugged at his arm, he didn’t resist. Slowly, sluggishly, he let her pull him upright, and his body swayed slightly as he fought to keep his balance.

She gritted her teeth, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”

He let out something between a grunt and a sigh, leaning into her more than he probably realized. “Jus’ lemme… stay here,” he muttered, his voice scratchy, heavy with sleep.

Y/N rolled her eyes, adjusting her grip. “Yeah, no chance, love. We’re moving.”

And with that, she began the slow, grueling process of getting a fevered, half-conscious Bucky Barnes to the damn bedroom.

After the titanic effort of getting him into the room -half-dragging, half-guiding his deadweight frame down the hall- she finally managed to shove him onto the bed with one last push. He landed with a tired grunt, barely making the effort to adjust himself before his body sank into the mattress.

She wasted no time pulling the blankets over him, making sure he was tucked in

She didn’t question him. Instead, she exhaled softly and said the only thing that mattered.

“You should have told me, Bucky.”

His brows pinched slightly, and his lips parted like he was going to argue, but before he could get a word out, she pressed an ibuprofen pill into his palm and handed him the glass of water.

“Only water for now,” she said, firmly but gently.

He hesitated for a second, then averted his gaze, clearly catching the meaning behind her words. She didn’t have to spell it out. He swallowed the pill with a slow sip of water, then rested the glass on his chest, staring up at the ceiling. A beat of silence passed before he muttered, “You should go.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“You’ll get sick,” he rasped, his voice was barely above a mumble. “No point in both of us feeling like shit.”

She let out a small, knowing huff. Typical. Even half-dead, he was still trying to push her away, still convinced he was protecting her from something.

“Oh, we can be miserable together,” she said smiling, as she smoothed the blankets over him. “It’s kind of romantic.”

Bucky barely opened his mouth to argue before a violent sneeze tore through his body, making his whole body jolt. He groaned, sniffling, then cursed under his breath when he felt the dampness sticking in his beard.

She handed him a box of tissues and then smoothed a hand over his burning forehead, brushing damp hair away from his face. “I’m gonna make you some soup,” she said softly.

“Jus’ leave it in a tupper or somethin’ and go,” he muttered with exhaustion.

She exhaled through her nose, leveling him with a look. “You know, the more you try to play the lone wolf, the more I want to stick around. So, you won’t convince me.”

She felt his chest rise with a deep inhale, like he was about to protest, but he didn’t. Whether it was the fever, the exhaustion, or maybe the smallest part of him that liked having her here, he just let out a rough, wordless hum instead.

Satisfied, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze and stood. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

----

As she chopped the vegetables, she let out a low chuckle, shaking her head at the ridiculous thought that had crept into her mind.

All those soapy romance novels and cheesy TV dramas always had that moment, the fevered guy, burning up and vulnerable, somehow managing to get miraculously horny while the female lead doted on him. It always led to a heated, unhinged sex scene, full of fever-induced desperation and raw passion.

She snorted, slicing through a carrot. Yeah, right.

Her gaze flickered toward the bedroom, and her thoughts drifted to the bear of a man she had as a boyfriend. Bucky, miserable and feverish, half-buried under blankets, sweaty and grumbling like the world had personally wronged him.

Meanwhile, he was in the bedroom, barely clinging to consciousness. He hated being stuck in bed, hated the way his limbs felt like lead, the way his head swam every time he moved.

But maybe -maybe- if the ibuprofen kicked in soon, he could get up, stand on his own two damn feet, and make it to the main area. He wasn’t about to let her see him as some bedridden pussy. He’d take that damn soup at the table like a normal person, even if it killed him.

And that was the origin of the predicament he was facing now.

The moment the scent of the soup hit his nose -warm, rich, comforting- something in him refused to stay in bed. His body ached, his fever still burned, but the thought of being stuck under those damn blankets while she took care of everything? No fucking way. Because if he let it happen, if he let himself indulge in such fussing, eventually she…

So, he forced himself upright.

The first step was shaky, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving, dragging himself toward the main area like a man on a mission. His vision swam slightly, and his balance was off, but he ignored it.

Until he couldn’t.

The dizziness hit hard and fast, and his stomach lurched as his knees buckled. Instinctively, he threw out his left arm, pressing his palm against the nearest wall to catch himself-

And fuck.

White-hot pain traveled through his shoulder, down to the metal joints of his arm, making his grip faltered. His breath hitched, his muscles locked up, and before he could stabilize himself, his weight slipped out from under him.

The next thing he knew, he was on the damn floor. The loud thud echoed through the cabin, sharp and jarring against the crackle of the fire.

From the kitchen, she startled, nearly dropping the spoon she was holding. “Bucky?” she called, alarmed.

No answer.

Just a sharp inhale, followed by a muttered curse.

He was on the floor, with one knee bent awkwardly beneath him, and his right hand gripping his bad arm, his face was tight with pain. His breathing was uneven, and for a moment, he just sat there, blinking sluggishly, like his body was still trying to process what the hell had just happened.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands already reaching out to him. “Jesus, Buck,” she breathed, scanning him quickly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He clenched his jaw, shifting slightly as he tried -and failed- to push himself upright. “Was tryin’ to get to the table,” he muttered. “Didn’t wanna be-”

She cut him off with a sharp look. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

His lips pressed into a stubborn line, but he didn’t argue. Mostly because he was too damn exhausted to fight her on it.

She sighed, brushing a hand over his damp forehead before gripping his good arm. “Come on, big guy,” she murmured. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

It took effort -more than she’d admit- but eventually, she got him standing, letting him lean into her body as she guided him down the hall. He was heavy with fever, and his movements sluggish, and by the time she finally got him onto the bed, he all but collapsed into it, as his muscles gave out completely.

His tired eyes flickered open just a little, hazy and unfocused. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a rough exhale.

She folded her arms, fixing him with a look that left zero room for argument.

“Listen here, James,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “You are going to remain in that bed and will only leave it to go to the bathroom. You got it?”

Bucky scowled. “But it’s-”

“No.” She cut him off before he could even try. “You’re going to stay right there, I’m going to bring you the soup, and I’m going to feed you. And you’re going to eat all of it without protest. Do you understand?”

His tired brain lagged for a second. Then his brows furrowed, and his fever-flushed face twisted in disbelief. “Feed- what?”

“Yes, feed,” she said, matter-of-factly. “You’re going to open your mouth and let me feed you that soup like a little bird.”

His jaw dropped slightly, and indignation flashed across his exhausted features. “Dammit, woman, I-”

“Do you want me to call Dr. Roberts?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head. “Hm?”

Bucky froze.

She could see the war happening inside his fevered brain. On one hand, his pride was taking a massive hit. On the other, the last thing he wanted was for the town doctor to come poking around, fussing over him worse than she was, to surely stab in his rear with an injection.

With a long, suffering sigh, he dropped his head back against the pillow.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

She sighed slowly. “Baby, I know that because of reasons you have a hard time letting yourself be seen vulnerable, but I thought we had passed the stage where you hide that from me. Why is it so bad to let yourself take a break and let me take care of you?”

She reached for one of his hands and squeezed it softly. He averted his gaze, and tensed his jaw, clearly wrestling with something. He was tired of hiding things, things he knew he should have told her but still didn’t know how to address.

She was right.

He was dragging ghosts from the past into their relationship, letting old wounds dictate how much of himself he allowed her to see. And it wasn’t fair to her. So, he forced himself to open up.

“I was engaged once,” he said, still not looking at her.

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden confession. Well, she hadn’t expected that.

Bucky kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, and his fingers twitched slightly in her grasp, but he didn’t pull away.

“For about a year,” he continued, and his voice was hoarse, whether from the fever or the weight of the memory, she wasn’t sure. “Back when I got out. Thought… I thought I was doin’ the right thing. Settling down. Moving on.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t exactly work out.”

She stayed quiet, letting him talk at his own pace.

“She stuck around through the first couple of surgeries,” he said, finally glancing at her, but only briefly. “But the pain, the therapy, the… the way I was back then…" He shook his head. "She didn’t sign up for that.”

“She left?” she asked softly, gently squeezing his hand.

Bucky swallowed, and his eyes went dark with something old, something raw. “Didn’t even say it to my face. Just a note on the counter when I got home from PT one day.” His fingers curled slightly around hers. “Said she couldn’t watch me waste away. That I wasn’t the man she fell for. That… that was hard for her.”

She felt something twist uglily in her chest.

“And… ever since then,” he went on, voice quieter now, “bein’ sick, bein’ hurt, feelin’ weak, it all just… reminds me of that. Of how easy it was for someone who supposedly wanted to spend the rest of her life with me to walk away when I wasn’t at my best.” His breath was shallow like he’d just finished a fight. But he didn’t let go of her hand.

She exhaled slowly and deliberately, trying to rein in the sharp flare of anger on his behalf. “Bucky,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You know I’m not her.”

His gaze finally met hers, and she could see wariness there, the part of him that wanted to believe her but was still bracing for something else.

She reached up, brushing a few damp strands of hair away from his forehead.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” she said. “Not your strength, not your worth, nothing.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m here because I love you. Not just the good days. All of you.”

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a breath he must’ve been holding onto for years. When he finally opened his eyes again and met hers, some of the resistance had faded. “I- I know. Objectively, I know. But my mind doesn’t seem to care about that, and… I just shut down.” His throat worked around the words, and his jaw tightened before continuing. “And it’s not just-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I keep thinking… If I’m not strong, if I’m not useful, people leave. And maybe that’s fair.” His fingers curled into his free palm, and his knuckles paled. “After everything I’ve done -after all the good men who never made it home- why should I get to be taken care of?” His voice went quiet, rough. “They deserved to come back. Not me.”

“Never say that, Bucky.” Her fingers clenched around his hand. “You carry so much weight on your shoulders, and you are such a kindhearted man. We haven’t talked about… certain aspects of your past, but I know you. I know that even if it pains and haunts you, you did what you had to. Not because you wanted to, but because there was no other choice. And I refuse to believe that anything you did was out of anything but survival.”

Bucky swallowed hard with an unreadable expression, but his fingers tightened around hers this time, like he was afraid to let go. “I’ll try to remember that,” he finally said, finding her gaze with a tired smile.

She pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Will you let me feed you like a little bird, then?”

He huffed, drifting his gaze to the side. “…If you wanna.”

“Oh, I want to,” she murmured, with a teasing lilt in her voice. “I want to feed you, maybe help you shower, tuck you into bed…”

He let out a dry chuckle. “What’s next? Powder my ass? Stick a pacifier into my mouth?”

She smirked. “Well, smart mouth, I happen to have two pacifiers you seem to enjoy a lot.” With that, she guided his hand to her chest, letting him cup her breast from underneath it.

Despite the exhaustion weighing his body down, his eyes darkened with interest. “Fuck, if I could move, I’d show you not to tease like that, sweetheart.”

She smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze where it rested, making him press his fingers harder against her flesh. “Too bad you can’t,” she teased, to gently pull away, standing up with a stretch.

Bucky let out a grumble but didn’t argue, only watching as she disappeared into the kitchen. He could hear the clatter of dishes, the faint bubbling of the soup as she stirred it. The warmth of the cabin, the scent of vegetables and broth, and the sound of her moving around the kitchen settled something nice inside him, soothing him.

When she returned, she was carrying a steaming bowl of soup, and a spoon in her other hand. He was still propped up against the pillows, looking a little more awake but no less exhausted. His fever-flushed face softened when he saw her.

She sat down beside him, shifting closer until her thigh pressed lightly against his. Without a word, she dipped the spoon into the soup, blowing on it before bringing it to his lips. He opened his mouth without hesitation, letting her feed him.

“There we go,” she murmured, pleased. “See? Not so bad.”

He hummed in response, swallowing slowly. The warmth of the broth must have felt good because some of the tension in his shoulders eased a little. She scooped another spoonful, repeating the same slow, careful process, and he let her. The action of feeding him, tucking the blankets closer around him between bites, brushing his hair back when it stuck to his damp forehead, it was intimate in a way that went beyond anything physical, and he had to admit he liked it. A lot.

By the time the bowl was nearly empty, his eyelids were starting to droop. The fever was still there, but the soup, the warmth, and maybe even the comfort of letting someone care for him were doing their job.

She set the bowl aside and brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek. “Get some rest, Buck,” she whispered.

His hand found hers on top of the blankets, giving it the smallest squeeze. “Would you stay, darlin’?”

She smiled gently at him. "Alright, just... let me change into something more comfortable, hm?" She didn’t wait for a response, already making her way to his closet. Pulling out one of his old flannels, she quickly slipped out of her clothes and into the worn fabric, relishing his lingering scent on the soft material.

By the time she climbed into bed, he had already shifted toward her instinctively. The moment she settled, he let his head rest against her chest, half-draping himself over her like she was his personal pillow. She knew this position well, when he was overwhelmed, when the weight of his mind pressed too hard, this was how he found peace. But tonight, it felt different. Less about fighting distress and more about simply wanting closeness.

She adjusted against the mattress, lacing her arms around him as her fingers traced slow, soothing circles along his broad back. His long, damp hair clung to his scalp, and she combed through it gently, and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head. “Comfortable now?” she murmured.

He hummed in response, nuzzling just a little closer. “Mhm.” A beat passed before he mumbled, “You always smell nice.” His voice was thick with exhaustion.

Her hand kept caressing his head, threading her fingers through the strands of hair in slow, gentle strokes. He let out a long exhale, loosening his grip on her waist as the sleep started claiming him.

“Sleep, handsome,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And this time, he didn’t fight it.

Permanent taglist: @civilbucky

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[moondustbaby]

A Little Surprise

Blue Collar Husband!Rafe x Wife!Reader

Summary: You’ve been feeling off for weeks and find out you’re pregnant with your first child. It wasn’t planned, but with Rafe’s support, they’re both ready to take on this new chapter together.

⸻

It was supposed to be just another day. Another busy day at the middle school where you worked as a secretary. The days seemed to blur together lately; you were running on autopilot, completing tasks while trying to keep your energy up. The end of the school year was always the busiest, and you had been working late hours to help the teachers wrap up grading and paperwork. Your job was demanding, but it was fulfilling. But lately, the exhaustion was getting harder to ignore.

At first, you thought it was just stress. Being married to Rafe Cameron, the blue-collar guy who worked sunup to sundown at his construction company, meant your life was never slow-paced. And when it was, there was always something else—like taking care of your house, making sure dinner was on the table, and keeping track of the bills. But recently, something felt different. Something that you couldn’t shake.

Your stomach had been off for weeks, and it was starting to become more than just the usual fatigue that came with being a wife and working woman. Every now and then, you’d feel a wave of nausea, a dizziness that caught you off guard. The worst part was the exhaustion. You felt so tired all the time, no matter how much sleep you got. And there was the small thing you kept pushing aside—the fact that your period was late.

But you told yourself that it was probably just the stress from everything going on, the endless paperwork, the chaos of managing a school office. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready for something as big as a baby. Rafe and you had talked about it a little, but you always ended up pushing it out of your mind. The idea of becoming parents scared you both, even though the love between you two was unshakable. You didn’t know if you were ready for all the changes.

Still, the nausea wasn’t going away. You tried not to pay attention to it, swallowing down your discomfort with each passing day. But then one morning, you woke up feeling especially ill. You had been working late the night before, finishing up last-minute forms for the teachers, and had barely gotten any sleep. When you tried to get out of bed to make breakfast, the dizziness hit you so hard that you had to sit down for a moment, holding your head in your hands. You could barely keep your eyes open.

It wasn’t until you were sitting at your desk later that morning, staring blankly at the pile of papers in front of you, that you felt the familiar symptoms all over again: nausea, dizziness, a constant feeling of fatigue. This time, it wasn’t something you could push aside. You pulled out your phone and did a quick search on the symptoms you were feeling.

Early signs of pregnancy…

A list popped up that sounded too much like what you had been experiencing: nausea, missed period, fatigue, dizziness.

You stared at the screen for a moment, your heart beating faster. Could you be… pregnant?

It was too soon for you to know for sure, but you could feel a pit forming in your stomach. You weren’t prepared for this. Not yet. Rafe had been working so hard lately, and you both had been busy enough just managing life. But the thought that you could be pregnant sent a whirlwind of emotions through you.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming text from Rafe. “How’s your day going? Kids okay?”

You blinked at the text, trying to shake off the overwhelming thoughts flooding your brain. You typed back: “Tired. Kids are fine. Busy day at school. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

Rafe responded almost immediately: “You should try to rest tonight. I’ll be home early. You deserve it.”

You smiled softly at his message, but the words of the pregnancy search kept echoing in your mind. How were you supposed to tell him? Could you tell him? Were you ready?

You couldn’t ignore it any longer, so during lunch break, you ran to the store and grabbed a pregnancy test, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of being pregnant made your hands shake as you paced back and forth in the bathroom, the test in your hand.

You stared at it, your thoughts racing. You didn’t know how long you stood there before the result showed up, clear as day. You blinked at the two lines, feeling your heart drop. You were pregnant.

You blinked again, letting the information sink in. It felt surreal. Was this really happening? You suddenly felt a rush of emotions—panic, excitement, fear. You thought you’d have more time before taking this step, before becoming parents.

After a few minutes of standing in the bathroom trying to calm your racing heart, you decided to text Rafe. “I need to talk to you when you get home.”

His response came instantly: “Of course. What’s going on, baby?”

You chewed your lip, unsure how to respond. Should you just say it now? Or wait until he was home? You didn’t want to worry him too much, but you needed to tell him—he had to know.

When Rafe finally got home, you were sitting on the couch, your hands in your lap. He kicked off his boots and came over, sitting beside you, his brow furrowed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I…” you started, hesitating for a moment. You couldn’t believe you were about to say it out loud, but the words spilled from your lips anyway. “Rafe… I think I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he processed what you’d just said. His eyes softened, and then a small, almost incredulous smile crept onto his lips.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice a mix of shock and excitement.

You nodded, feeling your heart race again. “I think so. I’m pretty sure.”

Rafe sat back, rubbing his hand over his face before he let out a low laugh. “Well, damn. Guess we’re in for a ride, huh?” He reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly as he looked at you with a mixture of emotions.

“You’re not mad?” you asked softly, still nervous about his reaction. You didn’t know why you were, but you needed to hear him say it wasn’t a mistake. That you hadn’t messed everything up.

“No,” Rafe said, shaking his head. “Of course not. I’m just… surprised. But I’m excited. I’ll admit, I didn’t think it’d happen so soon. But we’ve got this, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. Rafe had always been there for you, and he was here now, in the middle of this unexpected, crazy moment. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

“I know you are, baby,” he said, his voice soft. “But we’ll do this. We’re in this together.”

You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you. Suddenly, the worry faded just a little bit. Maybe you weren’t ready, but you could do this—together.

And just like that, the fear and uncertainty began to melt away, replaced with a quiet, overwhelming sense of joy.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this was sooo cute to write 🥹 i love them together, should i write more of them in their early years of marriage or some more with their first baby??

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

[bkgml]

MORE EX BF BAKUGO STUFFS PLSSSSSS

actually my fav trope it’s an illness 🙈

*incoming call from kirishima*

is the notification lighting up your screen.

it’s 3am, is what the clock is telling you as you crack an eye open while groaning.

“fuck.” you whine as you grab your phone, sliding your thumb to the answer button.

“hello?” you croak, still tired from sleep.

you hear an uneasy sigh from the other line.

“uhm. hey yn. it’s kirishima.” he says.

you can hear the urgency in his voice even though he’s desperately trying to hide it.

“hi kirishima. why are you calling me?” you say as politely as you can for it being 3 in the morning.

“i know it’s late, i’m sorry. bakugou got in an accident, it’s bad.” he says and your heart drops.

“that sucks, i’m sorry. we’re broken up though. so uh… what does this have to with me?” you ask timidly.

“is that her? let me fucking talk to her!” you hear the voice of your ex boyfriend in the background.

“i don’t want to talk to him.” you say calmly.

you hear a sigh from the other end followed by a ‘hang on’.

“i know. the situation is complicated though, can you let me explain?” he asks and you can hear the pleads in his tone.

you pause before speaking.

“…alright fine.” you breathe.

“thanks. bakugou man im going in the bathroom for a second!” he calls to katsuki.

you hear rustling and shouting before the click of a doorknob.

“okay. he needs you.” he says slowly, cautiously.

“kirishima-“ you frown.

“i know.” he cuts in.

“we got attacked by villains today and he got hit with a memory loss quirk.”

“so… what does he remember?” you whisper.

“pretty much everything important. except…”

you stay silent while you wait in anticipation for his response.

“the breakup.”

your breath hitches.

“kirishima, open the fucking door! i need to talk to her!”

you can hear the pounding.

the pounding on the door.

along with the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“yn. he needs you. i know this is awful to ask of you. we don’t know how long this will last and in his mind, the love of his life is refusing to see him after he’s been injured. please come. please.”

the pounding continues.

“yn! baby, can you hear me? what did i do?? just let me talk to you. kirishima let me talk to her!”

he’s pleading through the door. like he was on your last night together.

“fuck. fine. i’ll be there in ten but i want all of you to delete my number after this.” you say as you rip the covers off your body in annoyance.

you walk up the stairs of your ex boyfriends apartment building, where you left your heart six months ago.

you knock on the door and kirishima half opens it, restricting you from bakugou.

“hey. thank you for this.” he says, quietly.

you switch your weight on your feet and glance at you hands.

“yeah… what do i need to do exactly?” you sigh.

kirishima clears his throat awkwardly.

“well. knowing him he will probably kick me out so it’ll just be the two of you. since he has no memory he’ll probably act however he would after a fight with you.” he replies.

“so he’s going to kiss and hug me?” you frown, raking a hand through your hair.

kirishima sighs before the two of you hear loud footsteps, barreling towards you.

“baby?! hey, what did i do? hm? come inside.” bakugou mumbles out, reaching for your arms.

you smile weakly before you’re being pulled into the apartment by your wrist.

he brings the two of you to sit on the couch and you look at kirishima.

“act natural!” he mouths to you.

“hey, suki.” you softly say, nickname foreign on your tongue.

“did we get in a fight?” he asks.

you gulp, playing with your fingers.

“yeah. kind of.” you reply.

he huffs to himself.

“i cant fucking remember. i still cant. damn quirk should’ve worn off by now.” he glares at his coffee table, arms crossed.

you hesitate but eventually place your hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles into his skin.

he looks at you softly.

“can we fight tomorrow when i remember? just wanna sleep with you.” he whispers, frown present on his face.

you sigh, taking a moment to think to yourself.

“okay, katsuki.” you smile wearily.

he leans forward to press soft kisses to your lips.

you exhale into the kiss, bringing your hand up to cup his face.

he shift to kiss down your neck before nuzzling into it.

“okay guys, i’m still here.” kirishima says awkwardly.

you laugh lightly and katsuki frowns at him.

“are you stayin over?” katsuki asks. he’s familiar with kirishima needing to stay the night after dangerous missions. his own home seeming too empty and dark.

kirishima nods and katsuki stands from the couch, pulling you with him.

“night.” the boys say to each other as kirishima settles on the couch and katsuki pulls you to his room.

you look behind you and kirishima sends you a comforting smile.

as soon as the door shut behind the two of you, you felt katsukis hands under your arms until he tosses you on his bed.

you laugh lightly, your mind feeding you bittersweet memories of moments just like this one.

katsuki crawls up the bed until he reaches your stomach, flopping down onto you and burying his face into your shirt.

“hi.” you say sweetly.

soon your shirt is lifted and he’s pressing open mouthed kisses into your skin.

“hi. ‘m sorry we fought. love you.” he mumbles, lifting himself on his forearms and crawling higher up on your body.

you nod. failing to reciprocate his love.

he frowns and sucks the skin under your collarbone.

“love you.” he repeats again, frown on his face.

“kats-.” you whine, voice breaking.

“what’s going on? was our fight bad?” he soothes, rubbing circles into your cheek with his thumb.

you feel your tears bubble over as you nod.

going to wipe your tears before he could see them. he beat you to it, kissing them away then pressing a warm kiss to your temple.

“it’s over now, yeah?” he asks.

you whimper and tuck your face into his neck.

“i want it to be but when your memory comes back you’re gonna leave me again.” you cry, fisting his shirt while tripping over your words.

he shushes you, bringing a hand to the back of your head and scratching your back.

“it’s okay, sweet thing. we’re okay.” he whispers against your neck.

“just go to sleep, yeah?”

you nod hesitantly and katsuki rolls onto his back with you clinging on.

you cuddle up sweetly on his chest and he scratches your back until you drift off.

“are we broken up?” katsuki asks shakily.

kirishima turns to see katsuki standing in the doorway.

“uhhhh. i don’t think you and me were ever together.” kirishima laughs uncomfortably.

“you know what i fucking mean.”

kirishima groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“i’m trying to stay out of this.” he frowns.

bakugou clenches his fists.

“i deserve to know.”

“katsuki?” you call from the bedroom.

“you’re telling me tomorrow.” he frowns at kirishima.

kirishima nods in reply and katsuki walks back into the bedroom.

“hi sweets.” he smiles, climbing into bed with you and kissing your neck.

you scratch at the base of his hairline in appreciation.

“why’d you go?” you ask softly.

he knows you’re trying not to sound scared.

even though you both know you were a little tense.

“my memory’s still gone.” he smiles, giving you soft kisses.

“just needed some water.” he says against your lips.

“mmm.” you hum into the kiss, relief washing over you.

“let’s lay down, yeah?”

“let’s lay down, yeah?”

“i cant.” you sputter, gasping through sobs.

his hands are on your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

you shake your head while stepping back, using your hands to push at his chest.

“baby.” he reasons.

“you can’t call me that.” you whine.

“i love you so much, just sleep here with me.” he pleads.

you wrap your hands around his wrists and tug his hand from your face harshly.

“is that you talking? or the commission?” you say coldly.

his face turns solemn, allowing his arms to drop.

“i just want you to be safe.” he whispers.

you fist his shirt.

“you keep me safe.” you cry, tears flowing freely.

he wraps his arms around you, tightly.

“the commission doesn’t think so, sweets.” he replies, his own eyes filling with tears.

you watch as the love of your life’s memory comes back.

and he watches while yours fill with tears.

you grab onto his shirt with the tightest grip you can muster.

“please don’t go, katsu.” you whimper.

his face morphs into the familiar face that plagues your dreams.

“no.” you plead.

“no. no. no.”

he drops his head so his face is in your neck.

“i need you safe. you’re not safe when you’re with me.” you feel tears on your neck.

“i don’t wanna be safe. i want you.”

he brings his head up to look at you.

“i want you too.” you smile through your tears at his words.

he kisses your cheeks softly.

“but we can’t be together, baby. at least not for now.” he says, pressing his forehead to yours.

the two of your cry together, entangled in each others embraces.

until you fall asleep, dried tears on your faces and his lips on your forehead.

part 2

[2-shots2-thehead]

- I try to picture me without you but I can’t -

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Summary : Basement Gerard era loser x reader headcanons bc I love that little creature

Pairing : Basement!Gerard Way (MCR) x GN!Reader (use of Y/n)

Warnings : Mentions of physical affection, slight angst if you squint ?

A/N : Sorry for not filling requests ring now !! I have a bunch in drafts but I’ve been feeling really burnt out and can kinda only manage headcanons like this- My illness (??) is getting worse now

- asdjkfjdjdhvsifnwnek

- i love him so much

- you guys met through mikey

- i mean, how else would you? this man never leaves his room (which is just his mother’s basement)

- the first time you came over to mikey’s house, he gave you a ‘grand tour’ of sorts, which included the basement

- gerard wasn’t home that day, but you took note of every interesting, quirky thing about his room

- Star Wars bedsheets, comics everywhere, action figures on little display shelves, and a few expensive-looking Lego sets

- you met gerard the next time you visited, but didn’t talk nearly as much as you wanted him to

- but that’s just because he was nervous

- it’s like that meme- he fell first, and harder

- so rightly, when you were over at his house, it was nerve wracking

- eventually he confessed..accidentally

- less of a confession, more..snooping

- you, mikey, and gerard were hanging out in the basement but he ended up leaving his diary open on the nightstand

- you didn’t mean to read it, of course, but..you couldn’t help yourself

- “they’re honestly amazing. everything about them holds a kind of beauty i’d never witnessed before them. y/n l/n. the one i unfortunately fell for, and have absolutely no chance with”

- after a very long discussion, excluding mikey, you guys started dating

- you have to reassure him a lot because he will kind of never not be convinced you could do way better than him ☹️

- can you blame him, though ? (i love hyping up my readers so much)

- you guys sleep over at each other’s houses a lot

- which is perfectly fine ‘cause, no matter how worried he was, your mom loved him

- it’s not like you brought home some punk bad boy

- just a nerdy little guy who can’t go ten minutes without referencing one of his favorite comics, or a new video game he just played

- a lot of said sleepovers consist of pizza and a classic horror movie

- it was a cheap option, and it was fun !!

- you guys slept at the same house more often than not, but the pizza and horror films were a friday night routine

- whenever you do stay at his house, he’s a little embarrassed because of his room

- 1. it’s just kinda always a mess, no matter how much effort he puts into cleaning it

- 2. all his decorations are nerdy, and surely you would never go for someone like that, right ?

- wrong !!!

- one of those reassuring times where you need to explain that he’s your boyfriend because he’s himself, and you love every nerdy thing about him

- this man owns like…a billion sweatshirts

- so if the weather is even remotely chilly, you’re probably wearing one (let’s be honest, you just want an excuse to show it off)

- he always gets really excited when you wear his clothes

- it’s not so much a turn-on like you see in fics, he just gets really happy because it shows that you’re not embarrassed of him

- and it makes him feel like he’s being helpful, and he strives for that

- he’s not big on pda, but he loves hand/ finger holding

- when you’re not in public though..

- this man just constantly wants to do everything he can to show how much he loves you

- and a lot of that is just kisses

- his main love language is quality time, id say, but he’s also very big on physical affection in the confines of one of your guys’ homes

- he remembers just about every single thing you tell him about yourself

- he’s never forgetting your favorite color. i mean, it’s important information !!

- you guys take Polaroids together all the time

- ^^^ mostly just him taking pictures of you

- not an insecurity thing, he just loves finding any possible way to ‘capture that beauty’

- you guys never really go on fancy dates, cause you don’t need to

- you’re both content with your cuddly hangouts

- but, when you do go out, it’s something fun like an arcade or record shop

- COMIC. SHOP. DATES.

- he loves just walking around the store with you and pointing out certain comics while spewing off a billion random facts

- long story short, he takes every geek-out chance he gets

- because he’s learned by now that you don’t mind it and, in fact, encourage it

- many a stay-in day spent in bed with him ranting effortlessly for hours while you just nod and play with his hair

[artvscvntymullet]

THE THINGS YOU CARRY - GEORGE CLARKE

content warnings : past toxic relationship, degrading comments, small mental spiral, panic attacks, light alcohol consumption

A/N : i'm not sure what it is with me and angsty shit, this starts off quite heavy, but does get lighter, i promise and PLEASE ignore the unusual character interactions, i am trying but the layout is a bit shit icl, but ill blame it on this not being proofread

masterlist here !!

The day started fine - normal, even. You’d laughed at something Liv sent in the group chat. You were walking with headphones in, weaving through crowds, thinking about what to wear to Simon and Talia’s tonight. It was fine.

Until it wasn’t. You were turning a corner near the station when you saw him, your ex.

You froze. You wanted to believe it wasn’t him. Maybe just someone who looked like him. But no — he smirked, and your stomach twisted. It was him. “Well,” he said, looking you up and down, “didn’t think you’d still be walking around like you own the place.”

You hadn’t seen him in months, at least not since your breakup. Not since he called you clingy and ungrateful and said loving you felt like “dragging a dead weight.” Not since he twisted your softness into something shameful and your kindness into something weak.

“Just leave me alone,” you said quietly, stepping to the side.

But of course he followed. He always did. “You look rough,” he said. “You sleeping okay? Not that anyone’s probably noticing anymore.”

You winced.

“Still dressing like that, too? Jesus, no wonder I got bored.”

There it was — your throat closed up, breath hitching. You used to cry in the shower about that stuff. About how you never felt pretty enough, never felt good enough. You told him those fears at 2AM, the ones that kept you awake. He’d kissed them off your skin and now he was flinging them at you like knives.

You didn’t remember walking away. You just remembered the cold, the blur, the echo of his voice pounding behind your ribs.

By the time you got to Simon and Talia’s, the house was already buzzing. Music floated through the open windows, laughter spilling into the street. People you knew, your friends were already inside.

Flo and Talia waved from the kitchen - both nursing drinks. Chris and Freezy were arguing about something by the window. Chip was doing shots with Television while Liv rolled her eyes fondly at something Bach had said.

George was there too and he caught your eye immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you — the kind of smile that reached his eyes. Your chest ached.

You tried to act normal, you made it maybe twenty minutes. You laughed at something Sabina said. You sipped whatever drink Liv handed you, but everything felt off. Like you were watching the night through a window, like the world was underwater.

Then, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, he was there. Your ex who was fucking leaning against the wall like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t torn you apart this morning and left the pieces in the street. He clocked you immediately and smirked.

Your body went rigid. Every nerve in your body screamed to run, to hide, to disappear. You turned sharply and ducked down the hallway, trying to get to the bathroom. Your vision blurred, you couldn’t breathe and panic slammed into your chest like a tidal wave.

You found a corner. Somewhere dark and somewhere small. You collapsed onto the floor, hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry. Couldn’t move.

Someone was calling your name. You couldn’t respond. Then a new voice. “Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you. You’re alright. Just breathe.”

George. He knelt beside you, voice calm, soothing and grounding. “Can I touch you?” he asked gently. “Just your hand, just so you know I’m here.”

You nodded - barely.

He took your hand, warm and steady, anchoring you. “You’re safe, you’re not alone. I’ve got you, okay?”

But your panic didn’t break. He looked around, clearly torn, then called out without letting go of you: “Talia? Someone come help please.”

Talia appeared first, then Liv. You heard murmurs, soft, worried. Someone closed a door as another dimmed a light. Talia was on the phone, asking Simon and JJ to get your ex the fuck out of the flat.

You still couldn’t speak. You were trembling, sweating. Your whole body betrayed you.

George stayed the entire time. Not once did he let go.

Eventually, the storm began to ease. Your chest still ached, but the waves weren’t quite drowning you anymore. You were exhausted and embarrassed, but ultimately relieved.

“Hey,” George said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah? Come home with me, you can sleep. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me take care of you.”

His flat was warm, quiet. You sat curled on the edge of his bed, hoodie pulled over your knees. He gave you water and let you change into one of his big shirts. He didn’t ask questions, and thank god he didn't, otherwise you may have just crumbled there and then.

“Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll take the couch.”

But your voice finally returned, a croaky whisper: “Can you stay? Just, I don’t want to be alone.”

His expression softened. “Of course.”

He climbed into bed next to you, careful to keep space between you until you shifted closer seeking out the warmth, the safety that he held. You felt his arm wrap around you, careful, protective.

Sunlight streamed through the window as you blinked awake slowly and quite disorientated.

George was still there looking handsome as ever with his eyes closed and face peaceful. His arm was still around you, your head on his chest. You listened to the steady beat of his heart. And then it all came rushing back.

You sat up quickly. He stirred, eyes fluttering open. “Hey,” he said, voice deep with sleep. “You okay?”

“No,” you whispered honestly. “But better.”

He sat up too, concern etched into every crook of his face. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.”

But for once, you were. You told him everything. Not just about the panic attack. About the relationship, the manipulation, the shame. The way your ex made you feel like loving you was a burden and about how hard you’ve tried to unlearn that.

George was silent, jaw tight. His eyes shimmered.

“Sorry,” you added. “That was a lot.”

He shook his head, “Don’t you ever apologize for that,” he said, voice cracking. “God I don’t know how anyone could treat you like that. You’re… you’re kind. And funny. And brave as fuck. I see how you light up a room, and he tried to make you think you were too much?”

He looked at you like you were something sacred. He leaned in. You met him halfway. "We don't have to do anything yet," he mumbled, in between kisses, "you don't have to do, or say anything. I'll just be here."

By the time you both made your way to Simon and Talia’s that afternoon, you were still trying to push past the heavy fog of insecurity your ex had planted. George, however, was a constant — you hadn't talked about the kiss but he was always present, always there when you needed him. He kept a quiet, steady hand at your back as you walked through the door, his presence grounding you in a way that made the chaos of seeing everyone feel far less intimidating.

The moment you stepped inside, Simon was the first to notice you. His gaze flickered between you and George, a questioning look on his face. Everyone else was chatting, most of them stayed over the night before, but their eyes were quick to fall on you too, like they were waiting for some kind of sign that you were okay.

“You alright?” Simon asked, voice low but filled with concern. He wasn’t used to seeing you this quiet, and the way you’d left the party last night hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I’m okay,” you replied, your voice just a little too thin. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to burden them. “Still a little shaken.”

Talia and Liv immediately crowded around you, their arms warm and welcoming. Talia gave you a soft smile. “You don’t have to be okay right now,” she said. “But we’re glad you’re here.”

The other friends started to gather too. Bach, the Arthur's, many who had been at the party the night before — and they gave you knowing looks, offering their usual teasing and jokes. But underneath all of it, there was an unspoken understanding. They didn’t push you to talk, didn’t ask for the details. They just let you be, to which you couldn't be more grateful.

Later that evening, as the group slowly found their way to the terrace for some fresh air, you pulled George aside. The weight of the night before and the morning still lingered on your mind, and you weren’t sure how much more of it you could carry without breaking.

You leaned against the railing, your fingers lightly gripping the metal, as you tried to steady yourself. It wasn’t the ex anymore. It was everything; the pressure of being “okay,” the pressure of keeping up appearances.

“You’re not alone, you know,” George said, his voice quiet but firm as he stood beside you, as if he could read your mind.

“I feel like I am sometimes,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Like, no matter how many people I have around me, I’m still carrying this weight. I feel like I’m just too much sometimes.”

George turned toward you, his eyes soft but intense. “Listen to me. You are not too much. You are not broken and I know you feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got you.”

You looked up at him, his words sinking deep into you. You could feel your chest tighten again, but this time it was because of something entirely different. It was the feeling of someone caring. The feeling of being seen.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” you said quietly, a little scared of the words that left your lips, but trusting him. “Like… a long while.”

His expression softened, that familiar smile creeping into his eyes. “Yeah? Funny. I’ve liked you for ages too, and this morning, you being so brave, just proved it. So what now?”

You took a deep breath. “I think we take it slow. But I think it’s time I stop pretending I’m not falling for you.”

George stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers intertwining with yours so naturally it almost felt like it had always been that way.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not while you’re figuring this out.”

[coichii]

101 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT ✭

—(🎧)—> when your sick, he always knows just how to take care of you

pairing - bf!minho ♥︎ fem!uni student!reader

genre: sickfic, angst, and comfort

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, unhealthy habits, self deprecating behavior & thoughts.

You grab a sip of your water for what feels like the 1000th time tonight.

Somehow, throughout the day, you had picked up a cold. You knew there was some strain of flu spreading throughout your school, but man this one spread quicker than ever.

There’s no time for that though, especially not with midterms coming up right around the corner. So with heavy eyes and a sore throat that you swear is getting worse within a matter of seconds, you continue studying.

You didn’t live on campus. In fact, you lived in a small apartment with your boyfriend, Minho. It was close enough to both your university and his company, so it worked out perfectly. Not having to deal with pesky, disgusting roommates and getting to live with the love of your life instead was the dream.

The sound of keys ringing and the door cracking open was enough to pull you out of your thoughts. Your lover had just came home.

You smile gently as you hear his quiet footsteps grow ever closer to the door, heart bubbling with same excitement as it had when you first moved in. The feeling never went away, not even a little bit.

“Hi baby.” He says, walking in to your shared bedroom and sitting down on the bed behind you. “Still working this late?”

“Well yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” You reply. You wonder if your voice gave your illness away, because you can see his eye brows furrowing as you speak. “Are you sick y/n?”

“I just came down with it. My throat hurts, that’s all. I may not even be sick.” You try not to worry him, lying as you speak. If you’re being honest, your throat hurts like a bitch. But you know him well enough to know that if he knows how bad your feeling, he’ll focus all his energy on making you feel 110% and push off practically everything else.

He hums in response, eyes still searching yours before he’s moving to stand up. “Let me make you some tea then hmm? that should make you feel better.”

“Are you sure? It’s still super later Minho.” You respond, but you know it’s a loosing battle. He could be stubborn when he needed to be, and he is when it comes to you and your health.

“It’s fine. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you. Do you want chamomile?” He asked, not taking no for an answer. You smile as you feel yourself giving in, eyes feeling even more agonizingly heavy.

“Please” you groan out, and he’s leaving to the kitchen. You feel grateful for him as the day and pain catches up to you, finally deciding to close your textbooks and change for the night. Thankfully, you had already showered and brushed your teeth, so there was no worrying about that.

You grab the book you had been reading from your nightstand as you tuck your self into bed, silently waiting for the tea your boyfriend had prepared.

Even though you put up a slight fight about it, you can’t help but enjoy when he treats you like this. You love when he takes care of you, it makes you feel special and loved. It fills you with a special kind of warmth that can’t be described in words. Just pure love.

Just as the pain in your throat felt as if it was getting impossibly worse, your boyfriend came in with a steaming cup of hot chamomile tea, placing it down on the coaster next to you. “It’s really hot so be careful okay? I’m going to go shower now.” He dotes on you, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Ok, thank you so much baby. I’ll probably be sleep by the time you’re done.” And he hums in response, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

The tea does a good job with soothing your throat, the sweet, honey taste dripping down your throat perfectly remedying the itchy, scratchy feeling.

You decide to finally get some shut eye as midnight comes around quicker than you thought, placing your book back on the nightstand and trying to get comfortable.

Key word : Trying

It’s hard, especially with the small cough that creeped its way into your throat all of a sudden. It’s keeping you up, the hacking noise disrupting the peace your body needed to finally fall asleep.

It takes longer than you wish it did, but eventually the tea is able to coax your body into sleep, eyes finally getting the rest they desperately needed.

Moments later, Minho joins you in the bedroom, clad in nothing but breezy pajama pants. Getting into bed with you and snuggling close, he knows you’re asleep, but he can’t help but begin to pepper small kisses upon face and hold you tighter.

“Get better, my love.” He drifts off, falling into sleep alongside you.

And you wish you could say you did.

You woke up smoldering hot but shivering at the same time. You look at your clock, groaning as the bright light amplified the small headache that had spread through your entire face. 10 am. You’re usually up by seven.

You silently say a quick “thank you prayer” that you don’t have classes on Wednesdays. Taking a day off of school during exam season is a whole death wish. But with how things are progressing, you’re not sure if you can even go tomorrow without getting 9-1-1 called.

You open your phone, groaning again as the light messes with your headache, but reading who the message is from still causes a weak smile to take form on your face.

—

new message from “linoo❤️🐰”

linoo❤️🐰: Good morning y/n.

linoo❤️🐰: Are you feeling better?

linoo❤️🐰 : I know you don’t have classes today, so you should take it easy.

linoo❤️🐰 : If you want to call or need me to come over, tell me. You know I won’t mind.

you : hey, I just woke up❤️ im fine though.

he texts back within less than a minute

linoo❤️🐰 : your symptoms are gone?

you : well no… they’re worse. but I’m fine !! i promise

linoo❤️🐰 : you’ll call me if it gets worse right?

you : yes :) I promise

linoo❤️🐰 : okay, have a good day. I love you

you : I love you 2 !!

—

You sigh as you place your phone down, mentally deciding to go take a shower. Surely that’ll fix the headache right?

Your head spins as you get out of bed, the world looking blurry and dizzy with specs of gray. It’s hard to walk.

“How the actual fuck did it get this bad so quickly?” You mumble to yourself, stumbling towards the bathroom and turning on the water.

The steam helps a little bit with the tension in your head and the congestion of your nose, but it’s not doing much. Atleast not as much as you need. Your throat was still burning for some relief, and the dizziness hasn’t stopped either. You’re thinking if it gets any worse, you’re probably going to have to go to the hospital.

The shower itself helps a little bit more with alleviating the pain, the warm water cascading down your skin and warming it up inside. But you can still feel it.

You can still feel the pounding of the headache you swear is forming into a migraine practically tearing your head apart, your throat is still screaming you for something warm, and to make matters worse, you think you’re developing nausea too.

Yup, definitely the flu

The flu never stopped anyone though, and midterms are still right around the corner. So with a dry cough and constant sneeze, you were popping advil, and taking a seat at your desk.

“A little sickness can’t me from doing this” you thought to yourself, but it was much harder than you thought.

Suddenly the sun had already set. The moonlight creeps its way inside through the slits in the blinds, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. You didn’t notice the way your eyes were blurred with unshed tears either. Your mind was absolutely buried in the thought of midterms.

I’m not prepared. Im going to fail. I’m a disappointment. I’m so useless, one fucking cough and I end up like this? I don’t even know why I try anym-

“Y/n!” Minho’s voice cuts through the mess swirling through your brain. You look over to where the voice came from and you swear you can see his face crumble the moment he looks at you.

To be fair, you hadn’t looked in the mirror since you took your shower in the morning, but Minho saw something different. He saw disheveled hair, droopy and tired eyes, beads of sweat drooping down your shivering body, and most importantly, tears.

“You told me you would call me if it got worse.” He bitterly spoke, and you felt that cut right through your heart. “I-It didn’t. I’m fine min-“ but he’s cutting you off immediately.

“You’re not fine y/n. You’re literally crying!” He booms, and you can’t help but feel extremely guilty. “Have you ate today? Or at least took medicine?!”

“Uhm, once at like n-nine. Look min I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for not calling you when I was supposed to. B-but my studying. If I stop, I’m not going to make it. I can’t fail min.”

His expression softens at your admission, eyebrows de-furrowing and eyes being replaced by compassion instead of anger and hurt as he walks closer towards you.

“Baby, you don’t need to push yourself so hard. I get it, I love that you want to study. But baby, is it really worth your life?”

Crack

“I know it means a lot, but so do you and your mental health. You can’t push yourself this hard and expect good results. You need to rest.”

Crack

“I love you so much. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Please let me take care of you okay? That’s all I want to do for you love.”

Shatter

You’re sobbing all of a sudden, burrowing your head in his sweatshirt as tears pour as of your eyes like faucets. It’s making your head hurt more, but you didn’t care. You just needed him.

He let you stay there for a while, he knew you needed it. He shushed the small sorries coming out of your mouth, telling you that you didn’t need to apologize. He only pulled you away when you calmed down completely.

“I’m going to get the thermometer. Stay here, my baby.” and he’s off to grab the thermometer you kept on hand from one of the cabinets in the bathroom, coming back with a concerned look on his face.

He quickly rubbed the thermometer along your forehead, reading out your temperature with a sharp ‘beep!’

“101 degrees.” He sighed. “Baby, if this gets any worse, you’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

Your breath hitches and tears spring to your eyes again, which Minho notices immediately.

“Hey, look at me.” He says, using his pointer finger to make you face him. “I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you feel better okay?”

You nod along, resting your body back into his comforting arms as he massages your tense shoulders. He’s whispering small praises as he does this, and you swear you can feel your headache dissipating slowly.

While even though it’s going to be a while before you’re completely better, or even a little bit, you knew with him, it would all be okay.

As long as you have him taking care of you, comforting you, and loving you, you know you’ll be okay.

back to masterlist

[rafeandonlyrafe]

separate lines

words: 600 (+ three images)

warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy

“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”

“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.

“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.

“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-

“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”

you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.

you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.

“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”

“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.

“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”

“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”

“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.

“y/n!” wheezie squeals.

“wheezie, my girl!”

--

--

“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.

“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.

“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.

“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”

rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.

“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.

“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.

“love you more.”

--

--

“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to. 

most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.

“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”

“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.

“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”

“baby, ill stay on all night.”

--

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[melminli]

Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

[wosoragebaiter69]

a bad batch

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: do you guys ever wonder what showers in the diff teams lockerooms look like? is it just a big room with showers and they’re all naked together or is there cubicals? if anyone knows please enlighten me

TW: Vomit, illness, swearing

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

It wasn’t your fault really, it was whoever decided that the KFC given to you was actually safe to eat. Don’t they have quality managers for that? Despite it literally having feathers on it still, it was pretty meh. Not even enjoyable chicken.

That’s how you find yourself hunched over a toilet bowl, throwing up all contents of your stomach and more. You’re sweating but cold, you definitely know you have a fever or sorts but you’re uncertain how bad.

Worse thing is, training was supposed to start in 5 minutes. No way you were getting there now, not like this.

You shoot a quick message off to Jona explaining you don’t feel well and it’s probably something you ate. He replies quickly saying the usual of taking off however long is needed to get back to full recovery.

What’s the one thing you don’t consider in all this? You’re very overprotective teammates.

You end up puking more, and passing out on the bathroom floor due to exhaustion, the cool tiles feeling magical against the heat your body radiates.

- - - - -

You’re awoken by harsh knocks on your door. Your head hurts, your throat is scratchy, you’re dizzy and delusional, you feel like shit.

You stumble toward the door, opening it to see Frido and Keira.

“Jesus.” The Englishwoman says before pressing a firm hand and against your ablaze skin.

“Jona told us you said it was a light sickness? This is bad.” She says, rushing inside with the blonde Swede behind her. You were teammates with Frido on a national level as well so she took on more of a role while you settled in Barcelona.

“Come on, you shouldn’t be standing älskling (darling). Sit down, come.” She rests her hand on your back guiding you to the couch to sit down.

“Have you eaten?” She wipes away the sweaty hair away from your forehead.

“No.” You whisper softly.

“Ok, we’ll get you to eat and then into a bath ok? If we don’t get this fever down we might have to take you to a hospital.” The words compute in your mind, you don’t want a hospital. You just have to follow what the older 2 say and you’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

- - - - -

After eating a couple spoons of chicken broth Keira gave you, you’re taken to the bathroom and stripped into your sports bra and bike pants.

“Get in the water älskling, you’ll feel better I promise.” Frido kisses the side of your head, helping you in the bath.

It’s cold, and you do not like it.

“Frido, cold.” You whimper, trying to get out.

“I know but you have to stay. This is needed, trust me?” Her heart breaks at the sight of you in so much discomfort. But she knows it’s for the better.

You cry, along with everything else you’re feeling now, you’re cold and not allowed to move. Keira starts to stroke through your hair whispering soft words of affirmation.

“Shh bub, stop crying. You’re ok, it’s all gonna be ok.” She looks over to her teammate who is measuring your fever.

“It’s still a bit high, 37.8. Just a little longer älskling, then you can go to sleep does that sound ok to you?” You can’t even recognise her statement, only focusing on the cold your body feels.

After a couple more minutes, the girls decide you’ve had enough time to cool down so they change you into fresh pajamas, putting you to sleep in your own room before coming up with ways to hopefully get you to feel better.

- - - - -

When you wake up again a couple hours later, you feel even worse. Every body part aches and you feel the need to throw up again. So, you muster up all the energy you have and make a bee-line to the toilet.

Luckily making it in time, you spill more contents of your stomach. Someone has tied your hair back but you can’t will yourself to move.

“Hey, relax.” The accented voice says. You do as told and fall into Caroline. When did she get here? But you do as told, not wanting to feel this way any longer.

“Feel like shit.” You mumble, exhausted.

“I know, Marta and Ingrid are also here now. We will check your temperature soon ok? Right now you just need to not stress and stay here alright?” She runs her fingers up and down the sides of your torso until Ingrid comes in.

“I’ve got the thermometer. Could you open your mouth for me?” You open it without question, and she visibly cringes at the reading when she takes a look at it.

“This is not good, this isn’t normal. Look.” She shows it to her national teammate. Who also cringes.

“Tell the others to pack her stuff, get Frido here. Tell her the temperature and we need to go to the hospital.” This is when you start to worry, even in your delirious state.

There’s commotion outside the walls of your bathroom but you can’t will yourself to care, slumped against Caro hoping you’ll feel better soon.

Frido rushes inside, picking you up off the floor. She rushes to the car and gets in the backseat. In the front is Keira and Ingrid, in another car is presumably the other couple.

- - - - -

Arriving at the emergency department, you’re immediately taken to a private room where they hook you up to machines and an IV. You try to fight them, feeling too overwhelmed by the situation but Frido takes the chance to hold your hand in hopes of calming you down.

“Deep breaths älskling, it’s not too long before they’re gone.” Her words are a comfort to your ears, and she’s right because the doctors leave soon after that.

You look down at the little thermometer on your finger, showing the temperature of your skin. 41.5°.

You cringe like all the other girls who had seen it previously. Despite your hatred for hospitals, you’re happy because it means that the pain should go away sooner.

Frido has been on the phone for a bit, and she walks over to you.

“Magda wants to speak with you.” She smiles lightly, and you take the phone holding it against your ear.

“Hi Magda.” You say, voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hey little one, heard you weren’t feeling too great. Are the girls treating you right?” You hum.

“Yeah, they’re good.” She seems content with the answer.

“Ok good, we need you healthy for the next camp. Can’t have the mini star gone.” You laugh slightly at the given nickname.

“Alright pass me back to Frido, stay well and don’t do anything stupid. Please.” She begs over-dramatically.

“Come on, I’m not that bad!” You laugh, even if it made your stomach slightly hurt.

“Sure, sure. Talk to you later little one.”

“Bye Mags.” You pass it back to the older Swede and the door to your room opens revealing Mapi and Alexia.

Alexia walks over to you, concern visible between her brows. Mapi heads straight to Ingrid. (Not a surprise).

“You don’t look well at all. I’m not sure how you managed to text Jona.” You shrug, she takes a long breath.

“We’ll talk about saying how sick you actually are later, for now you should get some rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” You do as told, quickly falling asleep without fight.

- - - - -

Over the coming days, the girls watch over you like hawks until they’re sure you’re better and you won’t snap in half at a slight gust of wind. It got annoying, but you couldn’t really say no when they were just trying to make it easier for you.

Whenever you threw up, cried in pain or overall didn’t want to do anything. One of the girls would be there to take any anguish you had away. No matter what, Barca isn’t just a team. But also a family.

—————————————————————————

sleekswosobsession: number 1 writer for cringe ending lines

anyways i need help from you anons, i have an english short story (800 word) narrative coming up but i need ideas.. i’m a writer not creative producer. but i do know that YOU have some ideas so please give it to me. these are the topics:

1. betrayal of trust

2. consequence of bad timing

3. Individual against society

(go wild but not too wild cuz i have to give it to my teacher)

[talesofpheonixdrop]

Hey there! I really like your blog (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ · 💐 🥞

Would it be okay if I requested the mcd boys x sick reader, please?

Also, what does your fan base call you?

Hey there bun!!!!!! Long time no see!!!!

You are so incredibly sweet!! Absolutely of course you can have those headcanons, just what I needed!

I don't think i have a fan base lmfaooo but your so sweet for saying so!!! I go by Mello here on the interwebs! You are all free to call me so ^^.

Since you didn't specify a gender reader will be G/N, and since you didn't specify anyone I'm just gonna throw whatever man strikes my fancy in the moment at this lmfao,

Warnings: Sickness of various variety hopefully... i remember to come back and edit this as I write and go-

Without further ado! Let's get into it!

Worry Wart.

Like honestly, almost immeadite panic based on how sick you are.

Like seriously has a internal crisis about whether to take care of you or do his actual JOB

After all the village can't reeeaaallly function without the lord and head guard all day out of nowhere.

Like your laying in bed, sick as a dog, head feeling like your getting squeezed in a vice.

You can see Garroth standing in the doorway, wearing his basic linens for under his armor. His eyebrows are pinched, and he's worrying his lip between his teeth. And it's just so clear he's having a violent internal conflict over abandoning all his duties to care for you.

You have to be the responsible lord and tell him to go, that you'll be fine on your own.

Otherwise your village will be in disarray and you'll have people rushing in, in a panic.

He is very hesitant to leave, asks if you're sure, and leaves all while looking at you with the most pitiful wettest blue eyes you've seen.

Hes back at your shared room within the hour.

Your immeaditly just like 'S I r. What are you doing back here???'

But is it any suprise when he sits at the side of your bed with a cold damp cloth and tenderly wipes the sweat from your feverish form before placing it across your forehead.

All while assuring you in a whisper, he could *never* have left you alone miserable and in pain, that he only left long enough to give instruction to his second in command to ensure Pheonix drop could run easily until you feel well.

.....

Andalsotogetadvicefromdonnaresidentnursecoughcough

Garroth is gentlemen through and through and takes very good care of you.

He will NOT kiss or cuddle with you tho when your sick, major red flag of him (jk)

Due to his royal upbringing he wasn't exposed to illness a ton as a kid so, his immune system?? Shit. If what you have is airborne he will be bedbound twice as long as you lol.

Please don't pout or bed though he is a WEAK man and you will see him going through all 7 stages of grief in record time every single time.

If you reach out for him in bed and your voice break a little with just a tiny 'please..' he nearly bursts into tears about it.

When you wear down his incredibly weak resolve he will start sleeping in a chair next to your bed holding your hand.

As if that's any better for his health, the loser lmfao.

Point is 9/10. Love him.

Oh Laurance, Laurance...

The moment you start coughing, he looks over with a raised eyebrow and asks if you feel alright

And obviously, you brush him off because come on, laurance, it's just a little coughing. I probably need water or something.

Yeah, the next day you're in coughing fits so bad, curled over, and you feel like your ribs may crack.

Laurance is ushering you back to bed. And albeit playfully, scolding you for even TRYING to go about your business in this state. I mean no offense obviously your the most breathtaking person he's ever seen but you look horrible.

Laurance doesn't even entertain the idea of leaving. Poor Garroth (or if this is while he's a head of Metelli his second hand) has to storm into the house demanding to know if everything's okay and why he's shirked duties.

Laurance just looks over and very casually is like ' oh yeah I'm going to be out for a while something more important has come up, you understand keep it covered only get me if it's a real emergency thanks'

And you don't have a choice here, now he's not going to straight up neglect his duties he loves you but he's also very serious about his guard work. But Metelli has a excess of guards and he's not the head at Pheonix drop, he knows Garroth can handle it without him for a while. So there's no need for you to feel guilty.

Just lay back and let him take care of you love <3 yeah?

He will cuddle and smooch you even while your sick, the cuddling is obvious but you will have to ask for a kiss anywhere more than the forehead.

He also takes your temperature by pressing his lips to your forehead every time

The tease, single handedly rasing your temperature

He's also the best cook so.... you are eating WELL fresh and from scratch.

10/10 but do we expect anything less

Oh yeah also even before he became a shadowknight and therefore couldn't get mortal sicknesses cause his body runs to hot for most viruses to survive. He just as a guy had a STUPIDLY great immune system. So he just doesn't get sick no matter how I'll you are and it's kind of infuriating.

Okay party people, this one... it depends. lmfaooo

Your request was specfically for being *sick* so I can only assume that means have a virus or infection of some kind, a bug if you will.

Which is VERY different from like.. recovering from a injury or like... morning sickness or something.

Which i will write if people want it but anyway.

Sorry Pookies he's not going to be personally there holding your hand or feeding you soup.

Germs and sickness freak him out and he wants nothing to do with it at all. He won't even sleep or hang in the same ROOM as you.

He arranges for only the best care though. And OH Irene help and preserve that entire staff team if he hears the staff are treating you in anyway he deems... unfit.

You'll have a full new staff within half an hour

All MUCH to afraid to treat you in a way that didn't reflect divine reverence.

Yeah... Zanes is rather short because he's pretty absent.

He makes sure to get reports on how you are frequently.

But once you're better, you can expect a lavish gift

Also, he's more likely to end work early and go to sleep the same time you do when your better.

He won't admit it but he missed your warmth beside him.

Oh Travis my sweet boy!! Welcome to being included in the fics mwah.

This might be controversial (I hope not, tho)

Travis would be the best in this regard.

He has a freaky 6th sense for knowing three days before you get sick, that your *gonna* get sick.

Like your feeling just fine and you look over and he's running around and already prepping for you to be sick.

Reading books on it, making medicine, meal planning etc. Etc.

Oh yeah I MEANT making medicine, mfer goes out and forager for his remedies to any and all ailments.

He takes top notch care of you. Diagnoses you easily, lays you to rest, spoon feeds you, lightly wipes your sweat away, supports you through enough exercise to keep your strength and whispers encouragement.

My advice... don't ask how he knows to do this.

Even through fever its heartbreaking to hear him explain how he had to care for not only himself but... when she was alive... his mother.

All alone on that mountain... everytime he got sick he had no one to brush his hair... clean his sick... make his meals.

In order to survive that... you have to learn to figure it out...get ahead of it prepare what you need so you don't have to scavenge through it.

He will NEVER let you go through that alone. Not while he lives.

Well hello and welcome to the club Aaron

well, my version of you anyway.

Aaron is a good man, but he's also a very focused and fleeting man.

What does that mean? Oh just that he is not sticking by your side unless you are actively journeying with him on his quest for revenge.

Even if he cares deeply for you, your already in.... well... honestly i hate to use this term for medieval fantasy but its more a situation ship then a relationship. He has.. a VERY hard time handling the idea of being with someone else after his wife.

If you fall ill at a village, perhaps your the lord.. something is tying you where you are.

Your not going to see alot of Aaron im so sorry pookie.

When you don't show up where he normally sees you he will pop up.

He went to ask what happened but... he can tell just from looking at you . If your asleep, he watches for a moment... taking in your gaunt state and letting it sink into himself that your still breathing and then he leaves.

You'll wake up to a little vial of medication on your bedside.

How often you see Aaron after that depends on what he was doing there, he's not putting his plans on hold for you.

If hes able to stay in the village and investigate he will. Checking in on you occasionally and bringing you medicine.

But...if he needs to leave to pursue Zane.... He will leave you Medicine and a note telling you to stay safe.. don't look for him... He will try to come back to you but... if its over a year don't wait for him.

Yeah Aaron totally what a sick person wants to read.

For him though....leaving a note is a big deal. Anyone else he would have just vanished.

Now! However! if you are actively travelling with him for any reason, he can NOT just stomach leaving you while your sick.

SO he does stop.. works on setting up a more long term camp. Reinforces the tent, sets up a fire pit, and makes a Cooking spit.

He takes care of you.. kind of, he thinks you should have some layer of independence even when your sick so he will still have you do some tasks on your own.

For him its very a 'just in case, you need to capable. What if next time i'm not here?'

Jeffory Golden Heart What a sweetheart.

He won't find out you're sick till about midday.

When Abby's teacher shows up to his Patrol to tell him that you never showed up to pick her up from school.

Which instantly worries Jeffory because that's very unlike you, if you weren't able to pick up Abby for some reason you would tell him even with his early hours.. A note or at dinner before.

He has to hold back at jumping to any conclusions, hoisting up Abby on to his shoulders and heading back to your shared home while chatting about her day to keep her at ease.

He has a million thoughts in his mind working with Zane...its hard not to he finds himself hoping that you had a lapse in memory, that this was going to end with him mildly annoyed over anything else.

But he arrives to your Home and when he calls out your name he hears just a pitiful little croak he S P R I N T S through the house to your bedroom where, he doesn't see some horrible crime scene but you in bed, flushed and clearly miserable and he just feels all his muscles relax.

Jeffory is so sweet, but he can't care for you as much as he wants to with Jury of nine duty and caring for Abby, but he still makes sure when he's not on duty your getting his attention, his poor sick little dove he makes soup, washes and brushes your hair, and brings in the best doctor O'khasis has and once your cleared as non contagious he pulls Abby into the tasks so you can have even more care.

Help making the soup, help braiding your hair, and reading stories at your side.

You get two caretakers for the price of one with this one.

[stellar-waves]

collapse

. . .

[ boondock saints : murphy + fem!reader ] fluffy february : prompt 6 ⚠ warnings: illness/comfort (or call it fluffy whump if you want), pre-canon/au whatever A/N: I'm actually officially sick, so that's why I'm behind on these. And this might be influenced by getting sick, so whoops.

. . .

“Ye okay, lass?” 

You blink, hoping that will bring Murphy’s face back into focus, but no such luck. Your head feels heavy, and you fight everything in your being to keep standing. “I’m fine,” you argue with a small voice.

Despite his blurred features, you can see Murphy’s eyes narrow with concern. “Yer a terrible liar, love.” 

You want to counter his comment because, really, you’re actually pretty good at lying. The problem is that Murphy knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. Okay, most times... all the time.

But you’re just as stubborn as he is, and you’re not about to let a stupid head cold stop you from having a good time. Tonight is the first night off you two have had together in weeks. Balancing your overlapping work schedules had been much more challenging since you picked up a second job to make ends meet. And all because you were too stubborn to let Murphy help you out. 

You must have worked around 70 hours just in the last week alone, thanks to the late late nights at the bar. You tried to sleep whenever you could—probably the only time you actually got to be with Murphy was sleeping in his arms for just a few hours here and there. You tried to remember to take your vitamin C to keep your immunity up. You washed your hands constantly until they were cracked and bleeding in the dry winter air. But you kept working and running around, and now your sinuses feel like they’re trying to squeeze your brain out from behind your eyes.

“Let’s just stay in tonight. We can go out another time,” Murphy suggests, placing his hand on your shoulder and forcing you to realize he’s holding you up. 

“But I got this new dress and everything!” you whine, looking down at your sexy black lace cocktail dress and those stupidly cute high-heeled boots to go with it. 

Murphy loops his arm around your shoulders, pulling your swaying body into him as he guides you back to your apartment building. “Next time, lass. Tonight, I’d rather just see ye in sweats and that Metallica shirt ye stole from me.” 

You make a face. “I didn’t steal it. You gave it to me.”

He laughs, that beautiful grin spreading across his face as he walks you up the stairs. “If ye say so.”

You still pout when he takes your keys and unlocks your door. This is not what you had in mind for the night, but you were grateful for Murphy’s doting and regard for your well-being. He helps you undress and change into said sweats and the oversized band t-shirt. You sit on the edge of your bed, watching through your mascara-coated lashes as he grabs the bottle of NyQuil from the bathroom. “Least ye can still take a shot of something, yeah?” he teases as he pours the thick cherry-flavored liquid into the plastic cup for you. 

You smirk, already feeling warm in Murphy’s presence before tossing the medicine down your throat. He softly kisses your forehead, then moves back to the bathroom. You desperately try to keep your head up, wanting to move back to the couch so you can watch TV together, but you fall on your side, collapsing into the bed as the NyQuil hits a little faster than you anticipated.

Murphy reappears, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as he climbs into the bed with you, holding your tired body tightly against his. “See? Yer a terrible liar,” he chuckles again, kissing the top of your head as you feel your entire being finally relax. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, lulling you to a deep sleep you needed so badly. 

. . .

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 “heaven knows I'm miserable now”

[←Previous | Next→]

—

—

you were sitting on your couch with some snacks laid out in front of you as you were about to play a movie while it rained heavily outside, however before you could even hit play on your remote suddenly you heard some knocking on your front door

You get up from your couch to open your door. Who would knock on your door in the dead of night while it's raining? as you opened the door you saw none other than Sukuna, drenched in rain holding a bouquet of flowers along with a box that seemed like it was filled with all your favorite food

should you let him in or let him stay out in the rain?

while you were thinking of a decision suddenly he spoke up

"before you close the door I just wanted to say, uhm.. I'm..sorry for everything I said back then...."

judging by the tone of his voice you could tell someone forced him to say this, not to mention his facial expression as well...

"okay? is that all?"

"yes"

"Who told you to do it?"

"uraume"

"figured, but how come you agreed?"

"I was forced to"

without another thought you just slammed the door in his face, your not accepting an apology from someone who didn't mean it and just apologized because someone told him to

then again you felt slightly bad leaving him out there drenched in rain, you'd sigh before opening your door once again

"come in..."

the moment he stepped in he immediately soaked up your floor, you'd go towards your room to grab him a towel, and when you came back you'd wrap it around him

''sit down ill dry you up"

"I can do it myself"

"Sure you could"

actually, he didn't even want to go against your idea, he really was hoping you'd be the one to dry him up the moment you wrapped him around with your towel,

as he took a seat on your chair while you stood behind him drying up his hair without saying a word, usually the silence between you two would feel comforting to him but this one felt different, he could tell you were still mad at him,

he should try apologizing like he means it this time..

"y/n listen, I'm sorry I'm not good with my words but I'm sorry like I really am i know it sounds like I don't mean it but I do, uhm I'm also sorry about the flowers and food, and there probably soggy"

this time you could tell he was actually sincere about his apology which is..odd for Sukuna, but you'll take what you can get out of him

"I guess I could forgive you"

"wait actually"

"Don't make me take it back"

he really didn't expect you to forgive him, if anything he thought you'd just ignore his apology, you'd continue drying him off by you'll eventually get startled by the sudden thunder strike outside, then you'd notice how it started raining heavier than it before

"you should stay"

"why? it's just some rain ill be fine"

"If you wanna get struck by thunder be my guest"

Will he tell you he used his car instead of his motorcycle to get here? no, of course not if he told you he just passed on a good opportunity to stay at your house why would he pass on the opportunity to stay over at your house

—

when you were finally done drying him off you'd put away the towel before sitting back on your couch

"wanna watch a movie with me?"

"yeah sure i dont mind"

"oh yeah thx for the flowers and food by the way, even if there soggy"

"You're welcome"

—

both you and Sukuna would be sitting right next to each other with a blanket around you two while you guys watched some romance movie, if anything sukuna felt bored out of his mind.

about half an hour into the movie he'd notice how you fell asleep as your head rested on his shoulder, do you always fall asleep during movies? this is the second time this happened..

he sighed before turning off your TV, carrying you bridal style as he made his way towards your room

—

as he placed you down on your bed as he placed a blanket over you, he was planning on sleeping on your couch, but before he could leave suddenly it thundered once again causing you to grab onto his arm as you were startled

he would just sigh once more before laying down next to you, as he did he noticed how you started to calm down, eventually he'll wrap his arms around you pulling you close with your face against his chest before he eventually drifted off to sleep

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: Idk what my titles should be so I'm using song names🔥🔥💥🗣️🗣️‼️

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0sunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb @cadibearrr