#like ill keep to myself and have a nasty look on my face but its not that big a deal is it???? idk.

[jyoongim]

I have a request that has been sparked to life by that demon form!alastor fic you posted (thanks to you and anon who requested btw, i've now unlocked the monster fcker kink i never knew i would ever have but that's beside the point)

Anyway the request is simply: Alastor hate fcking reader 😇

{I had no idea what to really do with this so I’m sorry if its not up to expectation}

Morningstar!Reader x Alastor

Themes: 18+ SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! hate fucking, humiliation, pet play, power play, face fucking, horn grabbing, tail pulling, creampie, biting/marking/claiming, I’m probably missing something but just know its NASTY 

Alastor hated you.

The moment you came to visit Charlie and told her you would help, he hated you.

He hated how you carried yourself with such grace and dignity.

Hated how you remained in control no matter what.

He hated the power you wielded.

He hated you.

At least that’s what he likes to tell himself.

He let out a deep growl as your cunt fluttered around him; coating him in creamy slick.

You let out a soft whine as he lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, causing your cunt to take him deeper at the new angle

”A-Ala-stor!”

He hated how pretty you looked under him, face flushed and eyes scarlet.

If this is what heaven looked like, he would claim redemption right now.

“All that talk about redemption and look at you” he sneered with a harsh thrust “Cummin’ on a demon’s cock like a common whore” another thrust as he leaned his face down to yours, long tongue licking up your face.

You growled and with some force willed yourself to roll the two of you over with you on top. You moaned as you sunk down on his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Alastor let you seek your pleasure, head tilting as he watched you grind against him.

what a needy little thing you were

You gasped as you were yanked forward roughly, confused, your eyes drift down to see a smirking Alastor. You made an effort to try and lean back, to ease the drag of his cock against your insides, but Alastor had a steel grip on your horns.

He sneered up at you as he pounded up into your soppy heat.

”Always in need to be in control, but dont worry ill fix that”

A clawed finger found your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles into the little nub.

You thrashed your head to get him off but Alastor had a grip and the force of your struggle made you topple over and slip of his cock.

Crashing onto your side, you tried to regain your balance but let out  yelp as a weight crashed onto your back, hauling your hips up, forcing you into an arch.

Clawed hands mended your ass, taking moment to appreciate your form.

A slap to your ass made you jolt.

then another and another.

You whined at the stinging sensation that burned your ass.

A hand grabbed your swishing tail and yanked you back, his dick slapping against your weeping cunt.

”You’re no different from a common sinner” he dipped his tip inside you.

”Nothing but a pretty pet waiting to be ruined”with another yank of your tail, you were impaled on his cock.

He hissed as he bottomed out, wrapping your tail around his wrist as he gave you a few harsh thrusts.

H wanted to ruin you.

To break that heavenly persona you held onto.

Filling you to the hilt, he set a harsh pace.

Reveling in your wanton cries and moans.

”this cunt was made to be ruined” Alastor growled setting a hand on your back to keep you arched as he pounded your poor cunt.

You clawed at the silk sheets beneath you, trying to find an anchor in the midst of him fucking you.

”Ah Ah darling” a hand found your hair and pulled, bending your head back to hear your delicious cries.

”You’re gonna take everything i give you”

”You’ll let all of Hell hear that one of its princesses be treated like a wanton slut”

”That a demon such as myself was the only one who has the right to fuck you into submission”

each humiliating taunt was greeted with a powerful thrust and a sickening squish of your wet heat.

Sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder.

”You’ll cum on my cock and sing your praise of gratitude that it is me that allowed you such a courtesy.” You whimpered as his thrusts felt like they were trying to burrowing into your very soul.

There was a ring of cream forming at the base of his cock.

Alastor chuckled deeply “You like that my dear? You want me to claim this cunt as mine so all of Hell know who bred this cunt?”

You sobbed as your orgasm ripped through you, moaning as he rapidly thrusted into your pussy.

”P-please” you whined through clenched teeth, feeling him hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly.

”What was that? I couldn’t hear you”

He was using your tail to pull your against his thrusts, never slowing down.

”P-plea-Please cum in me…FUCk! Alastor!”

You gasped as he buried his cock deep inside you and emptied his cum inside your welcoming heat.

You felt a string snap and roared as trickles of your slick dripped down your thighs.

Alastor sunk his teeth in your shoulder and rusted into you as he rode out both of your releases.

Releasing your tail and hair, you shook on the bed in the aftermath of your fucking.

Panting you tried to regain your breathing.

You weakly protested as he flipped you onto your back, scurrying up your body til his cock laid on your lips.

Your eyes widened and you glanced up at him.

Alastor grinned at you

”I’m not done with you pet” he smeared your lips with your combined juices.

“Open those pretty lips” a hand forced your jaws apart and he purred as he sunk into your throat.

Taking your horns, he used them to bob you along his cock.

Your jaws ached, throat burning as he pounded your throat.

You gagged around him, but that didn’t deter him.

The sight of you swallowing his dick sent him over the edge and with a twitch of his dick, you whined as he spilled into your throat.

”that’s it. Take it. Swallow every drop i give you”

some of his cum spilled from your lips and you whined as he stayed buried to the hilt.

Satisfied, Alastor slid out of throat and grabbed your face, sneering

”despite your irritating presence, you will make a fine pet…yes my own personal little Hell slut”  

[lucky-bishova-42]

Anniversaries

(oneshot that takes place between chapters 16 and 17 in Malen’kiy Yastreb)

May 4th.

Most people celebrate this day by bingeing as much Star Wars content as possible.

Others go out to get supplies for margaritas and tacos for the next day.

And some, mostly the people in New York City, they take the day to parade, celebrate, and remember the time the Avengers banded together and saved the city.

But for Kate, it is a day that is filled with heaviness and sorrow.

Kate knew that this year was gonna be different. But she didn’t realize how different it would feel and she definitely didn’t realize how much harder it would hit her.

She barely felt like getting out of bed.

In fact, she didn’t.

Which is why around 10:30 she hears a knock on her door.

“Malen’kiy yastreb?” Natasha calls from the other side of the door, “can I come in?”

Kate lets out the tiniest, “yeah.”

Natasha comes into the room and softly makes her way over to the bed. She sits down on the side facing Kate and gently brushes a piece of Kate’s hair back behind her ear, trying to inconspicuously check to make sure Kate doesn’t have a fever like last time she stayed in bed so late.

“Are you okay, malyshka?” Natasha asks, momentarily relieved that she found no evidence of fever or other illness.

Kate shrugs and Natasha frowns, immediately racking her brain to try and figure out why her daughter would be so down.

Then it dawns on her as she remembers and her heart clenches.

That day, for Natasha and the rest of the team, had been victorious but also had its fair share of darkness associated with it. But it is also the day she had found this dysfunctional family.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she looks back down at Kate, who still has dried tear marks on her cheeks, “How can I help? Is there anything you usually do today or is there something specific you want to do? Or would you like to just have a cosy day? It’s totally up to you, dorogoy.”

Kate thinks for a moment before responding. When she does, her voice is slightly hoarse from crying earlier, “There is something that I usually do. And I usually do it by myself, but… could… could you to come with me this year?”

———————————————————

Kate holds Natasha hand as she leads her down to the familiar path. Once she reaches the stone, she feels Natasha give her hand a gentle squeeze.

Kate looks up at Natasha, who senses Kate’s need for some space and sends her a small comforting smile before releasing Kate’s hand and starts to wandering down the next few aisles.

Kate watches as Natasha slowly distances herself from her. Releasing a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, Kate slowly makes her way closer to the stone and takes a seat on the grass in front of it.

“Hey dad,” she starts softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you in a while… It’s been a weird couple of months. And don’t worry, I didn’t bring you any flowers because I know how much you hated them…

“I want you to know that I am not mad at you for being involved with Kingpin. Unlike some people, I know you were only doing it to build a better life for me and to protect me as best as you could. But I won’t lie, because of everything with Kingpin, this past year has been tough. I broke some ribs. There was a nasty trial. Bishop Securities has been dissolved. I was involved in a high speed chase, which was kinda scary but also really cool. Mom’s in jail. She was even more involved with Kingpin than you ever were. And she wasn’t even doing it to protect me, just to make herself richer. And, well, mom’s not even my mom anymore. She fully signed her rights away… and to be honest, I am not even mad about that.

“As crazy as everything was, I just keep remembering what you would always tell me, things always happen for a reason. And it’s true. Because of all that, I now enjoy the life I live. I have some great new friends at school, I am on track to win the archery championship in the end of May, and my home life is infinitely better than when it was just me and Eleanor…”

Kate looks up to see Natasha leaning against a tree far enough away to give Kate her privacy but close enough to keep a protective eye on her.

Kate smiles.

“And you’d be happy to know that I finally have a parent that cares for me and loves me just like you did. You would love her. She is both overprotective and understanding as well as funny and sweet. And—no big deal or anything—but she is literally an Avenger. But the best thing about her is that she loves me for who I am. She is the best thing that has came out of this whole mess. She is the reason I am still here today…

“I hope you can rest easier now knowing I am finally safe, loved, and being taken care of.”

Kate gets up, dusts her pants off, and leans closer to the stone. She kisses her hand and then rests her hand against her father’s name, “love you daddy and I miss you so much.”

Kate walks over to Natasha and throws her arms around her, tucking her head into Natasha’s chest. Natasha immediately reciprocates the embrace and holds Kate tight, dropping a kiss to her temple.

“Are you okay, malyshka?” Natasha asks, softly.

Kate nods, “Thank you for coming with me today,”slowly pulling her head back to look at Natasha with a soft smile, “love you Tasha.”

Natasha kisses Kate softly on the forehead, “I love you too malen’kiy yastreb.”

[kquil]

Hey pookie kquil, I hope you had a great time during the holidays! How’s your health been? I’ve been quite busy during the holidays myself, so I didn’t get the time to send a review on chapter 7 of DOB but I finally got the chance woohoo! (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

here it is:

Remus will always be grateful for their efforts and unwavering love for him but the situation is bleak. It’s hard to escape the nasty whispers and unsavoury gossip that go around about his kind — not that he wanted to be a werewolf in the first place… 

Remus, I shall avenge you <(ꐦㅍ _ㅍ)> *creates a portal and pretends to be a deity that specifically punishes those who speak awfully of lycanthropes by associating the victims with predators like greyback. MATTER OF FACT GREYBACK IS GON GET THROWN INTO AN ISOLATED, SENSORY-DEPRIVED CELL IN FULL MANACLED FASHION THAT HERMIONE ENDURED (just in case you don’t know it’s a fanfic on ao3—going to be removed soon)*

He’s lucky enough to be accepted into the greatest wizarding school in Britain by Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore is full of surprises that could vary on the scale of positivity. This is a 10/10 ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

Everything was taken care of and Remus, in his relief, was free to feel the excitement of every other student invited to attend Hogwarts.  

I hope anyone with a disability or chronic illness or a similar situation is able to enjoy free education like Remus could with the care and encouragement they need.

Their friendship was fairly new but there was already a brotherhood there that was undeniable and hard to suppress.

I love friendships AHHHHHHHHHHH 

He wonders why their ‘private’ conversation was being done in the eyes of so many other people, when she first approached him for a quick but discreet talk, he expected her to take him someplace private too but that wasn’t the case.

This made me laugh so hard. Why is it that adults often make this mistake like?! "( – ⌓ – )

“…I don’t feel good. I never feel good,” he bites his lip in an attempt to keep his shaky voice steady and looks to the ground to disguise his watery eyes.

The laughter disappeared and nowy eyes are clouded with teary, only tiktok has ever made me both laugh and cry within a few seconds (and maybe a few other books…)

James and Sirius were strong protestors, blocking his way when he tried to swiftly slip away……Remus continued to hear his friend’s protests even through the door he softly closed shut behind him and began his search for the school matron.

James listening to Peter and holding back Sirius after the both of them were protesting is so funny. Sirius probably protested harder and furiously glared at the both of them as James held him back. 

Meeting Madam Pomfrey for the first time was nerve-wracking. Remus had made a point of seeking her out on their first-day tour of Hogwarts…….He will remember that day, her acceptance, forever; he believed only his parents had the capacity to care for a monster like him but she refuted that without a single word.

Baby Remus realising there’s someone else who accepts him as he is and treating him so gently makes me wanna bawl my eyes out. THATS A CHILD HOW CAN ONE HATE ON A CHILD SUFFERING WITH LYCANTHROPY??

“I apologise for its sorry state, Remus” Pomfrey sighs in disappointment, her frown remaining despite his words of assurance.

Thank you for including the awful state of the shack Remus had to face alone at the beginning of Hogwarts. We often overlook how scary it must have been.

“It’s okay, really,” Remus musters a small smile and assures her again, unaware of how he makes her heart clench painfully…..Lyall Lupin will regret that fateful day until his last breath. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t blame himself for his son’s mistreatment and lycanthropy. 

I absolutely love how you treat the side characters in your series. Usually they’re overlooked or not much is said about them, BUT I AM ABSOLUTELY LOVING THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM! I love Madame Pomfrey’s nature, and Lyall blaming himself for his son’s condition is heartbreaking. Remus thoughts of himself are just as heartbreaking AHH (╥﹏╥)

“Are you sure I won’t be able to hurt anyone in here?” Remus asks before Pomfrey can say much else. And, again, the matron is astounded at the child’s strong character……Outside the willow comes to life again, swaying against the push of the wind and sensitive to the presence of unwanted strangers. 

We listen and we don’t judge:

I’m going to imagine myself as Madame Pomfrey too 🧍‍♀️

…..Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing.

idk how to explain it but the way you described the night sky was hauntingly beautiful and built a sense of dread at the same time

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

This type of lingo used by kids is so funny to me 

He enjoys having friends of the same age and not being weighed down by responsibilities or a pressing urge to protect them

perfectly described an older sibling’s life

“Damn it, I think it was left after all,” James curses and steers all three of them back the way they came…“Yeah but, next time, we should go where I say first,” Sirius cheekily comments, getting a light shove from Peter and chuckles lightly. 

Love this dialogue shared between them

“Making sure I don’t get behind on work and doing them in the hospital wing,” their jaws drop at his level of studiousness, “yeah, I asked Madam Pomfrey to get the assigned work from classes so I can do them without getting behind,” 

I think I just got convicted by a child. Time to turn into an academic weapon or whatever it was called 

Your baby flushed a soft pink and immediately moved the topic forward, making you giggle. He’s such an upright gentleman, trying to keep the subject off unsavoury matters, especially over the dinner table. Conversation flows naturally and there are brief pauses where you both focus on your plates, providing the perfect opportunity for your mind to wander. 

I laughed so hard and regulus is such a cutie stop, I want to shower him in love and pinch his cheeks!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

…The relationship between you was much better now, brighter and warmer, it hurts too much to think of the past and it would be best to only look forward from here.

AHH WALBURGA NEEDS TO GET BONKED ⁽⁽(੭ꐦ •̀Д•́ )੭*⁾⁾ also Regulus’ little heart 

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

I love it when adults are considerate of children’s feelings, even though it’s the bare minimum—you just don’t see it often you know? (∗˃̶ ᵕ ˂̶∗)

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a sceptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing,…Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

I’m glad to see Kreacher’s character development. Besides him being loyal to the Black Matriarch, his attitude seems to be better towards both of the black sons and not just regulus. That says a lot about how much the reader has had an impact in their home. Over the past few chapters he has really grown!! His anxious personality still remains, but he seems to have been doing better due to Reader’s care. It also seems like Walburga trusted him quite a lot since he’s aware of such a secret.

‘YOU WORTHLESS, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING MUGGLE!’ Walburga shrieks in her offence, triggering yet another skull-fracturing migraine, ‘YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO GO SEARCHING FOR THE PARLOUR! SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS NOT ALLOWED! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE YOU WERE ABLE TO SEE THE INK! NOBODY SEES THE INK BUT ME!’

I wonder what you’re cooking pookie ( ≖‿ �� )

…When you finally look down to see the source, your face blooms into a warm smile and you have to keep yourself from cooing aloud. Cuddled up into your side was Regulus. He lay atop the blankets with another blanket to keep him warm….

STOP IM COOING AWW (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

“Mistress must drink her healing potion, now,” Kreacher urges in a slightly shaking voice. You hesitate, “for Kreacher? Please?” at that, you finally drink the potion you hate so much, muttering a vow to never drink something so disgusting again…He was taught this alongside the two young masters after your great fainting spell and change in demeanour. Kreacher learns a lot of new things from his Mistress every day and he finds that he enjoys it a lot. Unlike his Master Orion…

PLEASE I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SO MUCH. Their relationship is so sweet!! The way reader handles Kreacher’s panicking and outbursts is so AHSISKDJDJ (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*♡

Pink in the cheeks, Regulus shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s okay…everyone deserves kindness, right Mother?” his words were from one of the last lessons you had given the brothers before Sirius had to leave for his first year and now, although Orion is the least deserving person, you’re still so proud of your baby for remembering your wisdom. 

the way both Sirius and regulus seem to remember her wisdom and lessons ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

Opening the letter, you begin to read dismissively but your eagerness spikes when your wandering eyes glimpse the signed name at the bottom: Alphard Black. 

OOOOOOOOOOO ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

It was a comforting thought, somewhat, that there was a sisterhood amongst the family. It makes you wonder how long the tradition has been taking place. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely for ill-intentioned meetings for dark magic. The optimistic part of you imagines the women of the Black family aching for a private room away from the men in their lives just to share a cup of tea and relax. Maybe meetings were held in contented silence, relishing in the calm and savouring the safety of the cliquish room. 

love this thought (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

…It all ends with an image of a heavy truck barrelling straight towards you and then you’re consumed by darkness.

ma’am I—did I just get hit by a truck AGAIN? Okay so clearly you’re cooking something and we are barely able to identify the smell.

Did Walburga accidentally opened some multiverse portal and reader dropped in? And if that’s the case…why is she stuck in her head? Are there two souls in one body or one soul and two minds? Or smth like that— WHAAAAA

ALSO we love your over 10k chapters (at least I do 🙂‍↕️)

YOUVE LEFT ME WITH MORE QUESTIONS NOW MISS KQUIL HAHAHA

-🌸

My love! Thank you so much, I had a wonderful time this holiday season, and I hope you did too ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ and health-wise, I’m doing good! No seasonal cold here~ I hope you’re also doing well — you’re such a sweetheart for doing that despite the busy holiday season, thank you so much, my love, your messages always make me so happy ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

Much avenging will be happening for Remus in this series, my love, there's no need to worry (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝) I will make sure our Reader/MC will take care of everything — this will also include Greyback! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

Yes, yes he can and I’m taking full advantage of that — I just don’t appreciate his switch-up when it comes to prophecies (¬⤙¬ )

Very true, I honestly cannot fathom that that isn’t the norm ( ,,⩌'︿'⩌,,)

FRIENDSHIPS FOR THE WIN!!! ✧。٩(ˊᗜˋ)و✧*。

RIGHT?! I swear they have no awareness when it comes to those sorts of things; yeah, for sure, let’s air out my ‘private’ business in front of everyone ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

I will take that as a compliment, though I am sorry I made you teary-eyed, my darling, you don’t deserve to get upset — the fact that you got upset for Remus though only shows how big your heart is, and it makes me appreciate you more (づ> v <)づ♡

Lol James’ switch-up was only because he knew he could sneak out to find Remus with his secret weapon: the invisibility cloak (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

Baby Remus needed to have that realisation and I’m making sure Madam Pomfrey and the Marauders make sure he never forgets it! ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻)

God! If it was up to me, that dilapidated Shack would become a cosy-ass cottage/boy den for the Marauders!… (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) Oh Yeah! It IS up to me hehe~ 

Awww~ Thank you so much for the appreciation, my darling! I promise to continue doing my best at doing these minor characters justice! Madam Pomfrey, Lyall and Hope Lupin, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, will soon become as prominent as Damocles and Ruth Belby ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻) (Fleamont and Euphemia too~ \(^ω^\ )) God, I’m so excited to write for so many other minor characters too! 

You are so valid for that, my love! ( ≧ᗜ≦) Feel free to imagine yourself as anyone you want! No judgement here!

Good good, that’s exactly how I wanted you to feel about the full moon, I’m making sure Remus’ screams are going pull everyone else into the same horror and dread he feels every full moon! (っ˃̣̣̥ -˂̣̣̥ς) 

I find it hilarious too! I just HAD to make Sirius talk like that hehe~

Older siblings deserve more credit, and I say this as a younger sibling 

Dialogue is something I’m always very nervous about but I’m so happy you enjoy what I end up writing, it’s such a relief! (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡

Lol Remus has that effect on all of us — And I believe in you wholeheartedly, my love! You’ve got this! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ You’ll be the most powerful academic weapon ever! 

And THIS is why I love writing Regulus getting the childhood love and care he deserves! He’s such a cutie and deserves to be appreciated as such! I love cold, stoic Regulus but I love him like this too! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Walburga will get her comeuppance soon enough, my love! I promise! 

I appreciate that too! I really want to be a mother one day, so writing good adult characters is my way of getting a little practice in (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Kreacher’s character development is something I didn’t know I would enjoy writing so much so I’m happy you’re rooting for him too — I love him as a grumpy elf but he can do without the bigotry and deserves to be treasured the way Regulus treasured him by more people 

hehe~ I’m cooking a lot of things, my love, and I promise it will taste delicious when things eventually come out! (๑>؂•̀๑)

Baby Reggie is too precious! Even I’m cooing as I write for him! 

Yes! I love Reader and Kreacher’s relationship too! I really didn’t know I would enjoy writing about their development so much but I’m so happy it flourished the way it did! 

Reader/MC is just an amazing mother, what can I say? She’s the mother they deserve, naturally, they heed her words! (๑>◡<๑) 

NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED! I can’t wait to write him too! ヾ(｡✪ω✪｡)ｼ

I love writing about sisterhoods and all sorts of unities like this, even for a bigoted family like the Black Family

I’m cooking multiple things at once and all will be served/revealed in due time and all your questions will be answered!  (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ And thanks for letting me know, I’ll see if I can make that a benchmark for chapters

Thank you so much, once again, for taking the time to give such a fun and thoughtful review! I will never get tired of reading your comments and thoughts on the happenings! Mwah mwah mwah! I adore you! ( ˶˘ ³˘(ˊᗜˋ*)!♡

[endious]

This HAS to be said…

THANK YOU for being one of the few people who portray Jeff correctly!!! I understand why people romanticise him, but I feel it’s kind of boring?? He’s so much more interesting as a fucked up, sadistic asshole with legitimate mental issues.

Your fics are soo good! I hope, if you still have the motivation to write, that you can continue in the future :)

Could I ask what your general headcanons for Jeff are? Feel free to sprinkle some NSFW ones in too ;)

SPEAK LOUDER !!!!!!! honestly though tysm that means a lot to me ! i am glad you like how i portray jeff and i agree with you that it does get boring seeing the romanticization copy and pasted on jeff. he’s so fucked up i wish more ppl saw him the way i do 😭😭 its so difficult to find writers who write him how i think he should be portrayed so i took it upon myself tbh /hj BUT TYSMMM !! jeff will always be extremely fucked up here and im going to keep him that way 🫶🫶

HCS FOR MY ONE AND ONLY ? OF COURSE ILL INDULGE US BOTH ! this isnt proofread at all and is SUPER SLOPPY I APOLOGIZE !! i kinda went with any that popped in my head when i read this so i hope its okay !

— i’ll be as honest as i can because it is HARD to describe the vision i have in my head (it’s changed many times but roughly stays the same somehow) SO I WILL TRY TO MAKE YOU SEE WHAT I SEE !!

— jeff is gross so gross. not even in the, ew you stink sense (he does, he constantly smells like blood and dirt it’s fucking nasty.) he’s sick in the head and is proud of it. would tell you how he gutted the last guy you so much as glanced in the direction of and how he writhed in pain and choked on his own spit and blood while jeff shoved his boot into the fucker’s gut for added agony. he says all this with a sick smile on his face but be sure to not make any type of look of disgust, anger or expression amongst those. he will blow up immediately and start threatening you if you so much as even hint at not agreeing with his choice of action

— he isn’t afraid of hurting you, he actually enjoys it. he’ll purposely set you up for failure so he can cut you up or bruise you just enough to leave a reminder to behave and listen next time. after all, had you just obeyed like a good little doll then he wouldn’t have had to dig his knife into the bare skin of your stomach just enough to leave a mark that would stay for a short while.

— to add onto that ^ if he’s kidnapped you then he’s even more physical with his punishments. he’ll beat you to make you understand to take his words seriously if you aren’t already. he’s slammed your head into a wall before because you didn’t answer him when he asked you a question and you’d never do that again. you’d do whatever it means to make sure he doesn’t go from leaving marks and bruises to leaving broken bones and open wounds, and he knows that you’re scared of that future and he fucking loves it.

— moving on from that situation for now. he’s surprisingly good with his words (this could either be good or bad) he knows what to say to keep you wrapped tight around his finger and he knows what to say to scare you into listening. “that, uh, new girl you’re talking to. she’s nice isn’t she?” and while he grins, you glance at him with uneasiness at his tone when he spoke.

— i think it’s evident enough he stalks the fuck out of you. whether you’re aware or not he’s always there. ever felt paranoid that someone was watching you? it’s him. but don’f expect to actually catch a glimpse of him, he’d only let you see him if he wanted you to. he’s got way too many photos of you for it to be considered normal (given your relationship with him, nothing is normal). and he’s jerked off to every single one of them. doesn’t matter if it’s suggestive, sexual or a completely innocent photo, he’s gotten off to every single one of them at least once and if he wanted to humiliate you, he’d tell you himself while you cry pretty tears and yell those silly and meaningless words you like to use at him.

— now some nsfw ones… get ready because i dont hold back on anything when it comes to jeff.

— he’s so fucking mean it should be illegal to let him speak. he mocks you, threatens you, manipulates you— whatever he can say to get reactions from you he will. “aw, doll. you look cute all marked up, what if i left my name right- here. what? scared it’ll hurt? can’t take a little bit of pain? oh, you don’t want it? i don’t think i ever asked what you wanted, slut. now hold still before i make ya really scream in pain.”

— he’s so physical with you i’d be surprised if he hasn’t nearly broken one of your arms or crushed your windpipe before. his grip is so tight and he’s so rough it’s like he’s unaware of his strength and how hard he’s being. but he’s completely aware and even makes fun of you when you claw at his arm and gasp pathetically for air he won’t allow you for a few more seconds. he wants to see how long it takes before the life in your eyes starts to flicker. and god the bruises you’ll have from him holding you down to firmly, even if you tried to get away you wouldn’t move an inch under his grasp but he likes with you try to get free so keep going until he gets bored and makes you do something else you might not like doing either.

— speaking of him liking your struggles, he’s put you in situations where you have to fight back. his knife to your throat while he orders you to struggle under him or him forcefully ripping your panties off to have his way with you. anything he does will typically have you attempting to fight back against his advances and it gets him hard and makes him want to hurt you even more the more you cry out and beg him to stop and get off you, your hands pushing against him in failed attempts to free yourself.

— KNIFE PLAY KNIFE PLAY KNIFE PLAY ! i already touched on it but ill say it again because i have this idea in my head ive yet to put into words in a draft. he fucks you with his knife from time to time, it took a few carefully chosen words to manipulate you into giving in and trying “something new” but had you known it was this? you wouldn’t have ever agreed. not that your verbal consent would’ve stopped him.

— he’s rough with holding your hips down, his arm over your lower stomach as he nudges the hilt of his knife against your folds. “ya scared, doll? nothin’ to be scared of, ‘m not putting the sharp end in your stupid cunt.” he could, but that wouldn’t be much fun would it? he pushes it just barely into your entrance and it’s difficult to adjust to, it’s such a stiff object it’s weird feeling it inside of you but he only pushes it deeper and then you feel the dips in the hilt from the use it’s gone through from jeff and how hard he must’ve held it repeatedly and oh. this shouldn’t feel as good as it’s feeling right now.

— “look at you, getting it nice an’ wet f’me aren’t ya, princess? do you know how many i’ve killed with this knife? how many bodies i’ve stabbed it into repeatedly?” and you wish he’d stop saying it like it’s some achievement of his, in fact you wish he’d stop talking all together but his voice seems to only push you further to the edge maybe that’s the pleasure talking though and not your logical brain.

okay ill stop FOR NOW LMFAO this is kinda long and i’ve never dont hcs so idk how to properly do them 💀 this is extremely messy but if i dont post it now i probably wouldnt post it for another two weeks bcus i’d think too hard on it.

[john-bitchester]

Okay, 06×10 yet another episode that I needed TWO HOURS to ge through, bc man. All the thoughts.

Trigger warning for discussion of rape

I lowkey forgot about Samuel and the teenwolfification of this season and I really went 'ieuw' out loud

(Teenwolfification: 'look at this crazy wild unheard of creature that is done super badly! (The superior TM creature alphas)

I read a phonesex destiel fic recently and Crowley was a phone sex operator too, and honestly, I would call both those men (though it's sex-centered, to me it didn’t read like porn in the same way. But it was really really good)

They have excellent voices

Cas and Crowls that is

Tbh fresh post-hell Dean too

I think I am discovering things about myself here

(Deep grovely voices hello)

Spn is really making me realise things

Gunplay/gunkink, a thing for deep grovely voices, obsessed with all the dads (dad, daddy and papa (john, crowley and bobby)

Eyo wtf

The way I was too distracted by Crowleys voice that I didn't even notice at first

Is iridium real

Yes it is, Number 77

I just realised

Crowley is always the same guy (please stay the same actor, he is too good)

Does that mean he just never goes back to hell

A BABYPHONE?!

Oh my god Crowley truly actually is a daddy

This is our second proof

NO

IM ATTACHED

HOW DARE YOU

YOU SHAPESHIFTER SCUM

FUCK YOU

I DESERVE MORE CROWLEY

NO

Im sorry Dean what do you mean 'now I need a daily rape shower'

Dean what does that mean

You need a dialy shower to deal with the trauma of being raped in hell??

Or what???

Okay no im fully going with this

In the last episode we discover (or I at least theorised) dean got raped in hell

If someone touches you without consent, it feels nasty, makes your skin crawl, you want to wash it off

So what if the extend and extremes to whicj they are hunting now are just triggering dean over and over again to hell, making him need a shower to process his trauma and 'feel clean again' after what was done to him, and the memories their daily Alpha encounter/demon encounter unearths

Help I can never look at Deans 1911 normal again

The gunplay fics have officially taken root in my brain

Okay nope

Its official

Look at his face

The fear in his voice

[Okay, officially over the foreplay, satisfy me or I please myself]

[Something funny, Sam? - Yeah - Cuz from where I'm sitting-]

Dean winchester is ‐scared-

He got raped in hell no question

I am unwell and not in the funny way

[You gonna untie us? - please, don't pretend you don't enjoy it.]

I genuinely needed a sec after this

The dead look in deans eyes holy fuck

Great acting

But shit it breaks my heart

[If you don't help us, I will hunt you down and kill you. - Will you, boy?]

I am unwell in the funny way again

Cass feels so wrong

I hate it

Like I know he used the excuse of 'I got de-emotioned again and I acted the way I did bc I was rebelling'

But you can't tell me they can just. De-emotion the angels

Bc then they would do that with all the rebels

I dont get it

I'd say 'wouldnt it be cool if cass was also soulless, but idk if angels have souls

My friend bunbun texts: It's also a widely accepted headcanon that Sam got raped in the cage

Oh ny god hello

OH MY GOD

YOU CANT JUST DROP SOMRTHING LIKE THAT ON A GAL

Okay but where does this come from

I literally straight up keep forgetting Ruby betrayed Sam

What happens to Jimmy when Cas is upstairs

Like does he need the body in heaven also

I do like how Sam says 'Raphael' it's like. 'Rafaël'

Jesus Ill never get thru this episode. Im 11 minutes in and have been watching it for 45 minutes

You have to be SHITTING me

How can I have so many thoughts on 10 minutes of food

On the whole "Theres something wrong with cass' thing

He helped Dean figure out what was wrong with sam. Cared enough to do that

But he isnt helping with fixing it? The literal angel who build a guy up again atom per atom???

So what if this is another angel game? What if Cass doesnt want Sam to regain his soul, for some big angel plan TM

Bc after all, the heavens can't win if Mickey is locked down

Mary???

Does daddy have her locked up in hell or smt?

Istg if Mary gets brought back I will riot

STOP BEING COWARDS

KILL EM

KILL EM ALL

LET THEM REMAIN DEAD FOREVER AND EVER

[Crowley's gonna bring mom back? - You tell me you don't want her back.]

THATS EXACTLY WHAT IM TELLIN YA

Dean you are so sexy when you are righteously angry

Could pin me to a wall with that stare

I just know my girl Mary wouldn't forgive Samuel for bringing her back from the dead instead of getting her sons soul back

Okay this is a two parter. Pt two up soon

[goodforeveryone]

A Lifesaver in My Medicine Cabinet: A Review of "The Home Doctor"

I personally used to scoff at the idea of a home medical guide. Surely, for anything serious, a trip to the doctor was necessary. But after a nasty bout of food poisoning miles away from civilization, with a dead phone and no way to call for help, I changed my tune. That's when I discovered "The Home Doctor: Practical Medicine for Every Household," and let me tell you, it's been a lifesaver ever since.

Stocked Up and Prepared

The very first thing that impressed me about "The Home Doctor" was its focus on preparedness. The book dedicates a whole section to essential medical supplies you should have on hand. It doesn't just list them; it explains why you need them and how to use them effectively. This proved invaluable during that camping trip. With the help of the guide, I was able to identify the symptoms, improvise some remedies from my first-aid kit (thanks to the book's guidance on stocking it!), and ride out the illness until I could reach a doctor.

Beyond Band-Aids: A Guide for Common Ailments

"The Home Doctor" goes way beyond simple cuts and scrapes. It covers a surprising range of common ailments, from headaches and fevers to sprains and even minor allergic reactions. Each condition has a dedicated section with clear explanations of symptoms, causes, and most importantly, self-care options. The book emphasizes when to seek professional medical help, but for less serious situations, it provides valuable guidance on treating them at home. This has come in particularly handy for minor injuries and illnesses my family has faced. With a little help from the book, I've been able to soothe earaches, manage muscle strains, and even deal with a nasty case of sunburn – all without a trip to the doctor's office.

More Than Just Western Medicine

One aspect of "The Home Doctor" that I found particularly interesting was its exploration of alternative remedies. The book acknowledges the limitations of over-the-counter medications and explores natural alternatives like herbal remedies and simple home treatments. It's important to note that the book doesn't advocate forgoing professional medical help altogether, but it does offer some interesting options to consider alongside traditional treatment plans. For instance, the book suggests soothing a sore throat with a gargle of warm salt water – a simple yet effective remedy that helped me avoid resorting to lozenges loaded with sugar and artificial ingredients.

A Well-Written and Easy-to-Understand Guide

"The Home Doctor" is not some dense medical textbook. It's written in a clear, concise, and easy-to-understand manner. The language is straightforward, and even complex medical concepts are explained in a way that laypeople can grasp. The book also makes liberal use of diagrams and illustrations, making it visually appealing and even fun to learn from. I found myself flipping through it on a rainy afternoon, learning about different medical conditions and treatments – knowledge that proved valuable later on.

Overall, "The Home Doctor" is more than just a medical guide; it's a source of peace of mind. It empowers you to take charge of your health and well-being, both in everyday situations and in the face of unexpected emergencies. Whether you're a seasoned outdoors enthusiast or a family looking for practical home remedies, "The Home Doctor" is a valuable addition to any household. It's a book I highly recommend keeping close at hand.

Peace of Mind in Every Page

[kaonarvna]

January 2024 is (finally) over. This too-long month took up twenty full pages in my bullet journal; this year hasn't been kind to my body so far. As always, I could probably be kinder to it too.

「 tired boy (lazy monster) ; a clawed man, near asleep, snuggles up to a cushion on the sofa. 」

「 30:00 x2 ; forever 05:30 ; 19:30 ; a figure does their physio stretches on the floor, potted palms and ferns sit before him. 」

Here's the month's vent sketches: lots of hands, some mild chronic pain-informed body horror, monstrous little creatures crawling out from the flesh.

Fun stats for nerds:

I worked on my WIPs one time this month. (very sad)

I made art on thirteen different days. (very good)

I did eleven loads of laundry. (ouch, my electric bill)

I went climbing nine times. (nice)

I only went to bed late 5 times. (very nice)

「 ouch ; a figure stretches their neck to the left, hands rubbing at the skin. he wears a shoulder brace on the right side. many little eyes peer at him. a note above reads: TAPE NECK 」

「 oh no! a figure with crossed arms grips at their arms, hunched forward, away from the viewer. two shoulder braces' straps cross across his back. 」

My shoulders and hands have been nasty all month. I routinely wear two shoulder braces at work now, half reactive, half preventative. It feels secure. But, it also makes me look like I was designed by the wish version of nomura, what with all of the straps. I have two wrists braces as well now, and take them with me everywhere. So, so many things.

「 big claws bore into and rip open a figure's torso, separating a shoulder from the rest. lots of little watchful eyes peer at the mess. he reaches weakly for a bottle of pills beside a potted plant. faintly, "too late" is written in pink. 」

「 ouch ; a hand at rest, a pen sits over the thumb and the under the fingers. a little one-eyed skeletal monster breaches the skin and mantles out from there flesh. 」

Writing has been especially painful lately. It has me a little worried. But, taking breaks every few minutes keeps things manageable. So many little breaks. My hands have been the focus or many sketches, probably because they're an easy on-demand reference at work, A N D they're always killing me.

「 worms ; worms writhe in a closed grip, between fingers and weaving through a sleeve. tape it up ; a kinesiology covered open hand is watched by little eyes, as it begins to unravel. 」

I was exposed to pinworm and chicken pox outbreaks this month, along with a litany of other diseases. Miraculously, I evaded all of them. I've been suspiciously healthy the past couple of months. The same happened last January, then I fell ill in March and needed three rounds of antibiotics over the course of a month. Really hoping that doesn't happen again.

「 a massive beast with too many eyes fixated the figure of a man hovers, maw agape. its many tongues hang slack, so near the man's face, while clawed hands near its head. he is distracted, eyes closed, adjusting the strap of a shoulder brace. oblivious. 」

I don't remember what prompted these two. I realise I draw a lot of little eyes, I call them "watchful eyes" when I talk to myself about the little things. I'm going to choose not to analyse that too much.

That said, I'm constantly watching myself, conscious of being perceived, conscious of appearing a certain way to myself and to others. Especially where it concerns being a somewhat visibly disabled young man, there are always watchful eyes. There is always masking.

「 a figure sits in foetal position on the ground. a great clawed beast and many eyes readies to scoop the pitiful thing up in its too-powerful hands, an all seeing claw machine of a creature. its own bony and misshapen body stretches into the background. 」

It's been a long month. A long, tired month. A long, painful month. February will likely be much the same, it's always a tough month. But, as always, I'll make it through somehow. I always do.

[thewalkingchipmunkk]

a fictional tale #4

<forgiving>

- Life of Shane Parker

I like how my free-spirited self is embedded underneath the manufactured behaviour of mine. This vicious society perpetuates us to obey the social rules and laws dictated by the elite, the corrupt, the “scum” of the earth. We are afraid to do anything to defy the majority, provide a fresh voice amongst the tainted and norm, and write our own legacy with our unabashed honesty and rigour in our views and beliefs. How is it possible that as days go by, we are becoming carbon copies of one another— we think alike, we feel constrained and limited, we feel used, we feel our huge reserves of potential are slowly going to waste, we feel we are rivals, not allies, and every opportunity is meant for us to outrun each other, we feel…

Can someone be original, be authentic, and please, be the scent of my life? Put the stop to this madness and fast-paced competitive rat race that will put us all to shame and devastation as we yield to lust and temptation. Let’s not throw our wealth away, and be conniving creatures. Let’s not destroy each other for no apparent reason. Let’s try to uplift each other. Let’s start from scratch, and build from there— like lego blocks, every piece emphasises the essentiality of teamwork where only with its presence, we can achieve greater things together as one.

As I say this, I fear for my own madness looming ahead. I am bounded by my own years-long inner loneliness and grief, unable to escape my own ill fate. I resent the people not able to see through my mask. Is it that it is silicone and I wore too long that I forgot it was a foreign entity, not my flesh and bones? Maybe I just am too guarded by the “nasty artworks” and whisperers around me that I know for sure knives would penetrate deep in me once my back is exposed to them. Maybe I am just too hurt by my past ordeals that opening up was not an option because I deserve lasting peace. Is it wrong to be a little well-tamed robot and lost my own originality and spark? I so yearn the days I can see myself being highly ambitious, witty and playful, treating everything at face value, once knowing I am safe in the arms of my comrades swimming around me.

What’s worse, recently, I have stopped my Oscar-worthy life performance and decided to just put on the misery expression, to denote a “I’m a gloomy boy, please begone” face. I’m sure they know how many times my face was begging for desperation to be seen and understood and appreciated. Yet, they still choose to assume as a well-fed and grown adult, I can still function and perform demanding tasks without fail (which I assure you, I am capable and equipped). Knowing there should not be any room for error, and chasing after my elusive goals, with my perfectionistic nature coming into play strong and undefeated, I am soon my own demise. I repeat, to suffer in this ill-fated life. As my brain keeps churning of endless possibilities and question marks, I live in anxiety and stress, not wanting to make a foolish error and live in perils and shame anymore. I do not want to be seen less, and feel inferior to the rest I show no respect to. I do not want to be worse off than these people— merciless creatures that were so ready to crush me when I was so down and fell so hard. To underperform and let myself down is like a first-grade crime committed.

I know, everyone, I should not push myself like that. But then again, am I to be blamed? I will say no to victim-blaming because I need no pity party, and like how many here fail to sympathise someone’s plight, I shall say no more. Life has hardened my skin, thrown salt on my burning wounds, and cracked my skull with its velocity. I am a broken individual, unseen and unheard, unwarranted and unwanted, unconfident and unknown, as I sauntered down the dark alley, with tears glistening my face, into the raging sea cheering at the sight of its prey. At my final stretch, I look into the reflection and saw nothing humane but the face of cold-blooded murderer with a crooked smirk.

“You take him or me,” I bellowed against the roaring night breeze as an empty vessel emerged above the horizon casted by the dim moonlight.

[kdipshit]

Co-dependancy ;

April 4

I have the faith that what’s best for me will ultimately manifest. I can be honest and say I’m codependent in relationships, I usually focus so much on the person I’m with and the life we have together rather than myself and my own life with ME lol. I feel bad and uncomfortable and almost like I cheat on myself when I drink, which is driving me to stay sober. I received ‘The big book’ in the mail today free, provided by a lovely AA Group over in the state I attended via zoom, so I’ve been extremely grateful in my moments of reading. My relationship with sobriety is at peaceful and positive as I can possibly make it, sometimes I’m worried if I’m hiding everything with a positive attitude or if I’m truely positive about my experience, I really don’t know what I’m saying or how anything is coming out because I feel so…. Idk, like I’m facing the wrong way. I kept super busy today, because I feel guilt. I did my morning routine with guilt in the back on my head, I’m writing this now with guilt plastered all over it. Am I an enabler? Because I enabled myself to get drunk… how long do I feel guilt for. Guilt stems for the abandoned emotion on the emotion wheel I’m looking at, and if this is a sign to get into my abandonment issues well I guess its time to roll up the sleeves, I feel sad and a little defeated. Must I acknowledge in order to go forward? What needs to be done here?

My fear of abandonment seems to take over my body and pierce into my soul, over the years it has stopped me from getting close to someone all together, and distance myself from those inevitably close to me. I feel ashamed when I over share, in fear of someone I love leaving, I hold and hide things in, because thats what seems to push people away the most. I’m like a child hiding things away from their parent. Idk why that analogy came but fuck it, when my parents would drink, they would get into some nasty fights, and when I was a child I remember my mum kicking my dad out on multiple occasions and me and my brother crying, holding and begging for him to stay. He stayed most times, other times he wasn’t far, and would always come back. My dad never truely left, but he wasn’t always there. When I felt the shift of my parents with me, when I was 13-14, I felt abandoned, and angry. I felt like no one knew me because they didn’t want to, I felt like there was something wrong with me, I felt extremely alone… in a house full of family. I wondered what was wrong with me for so many years, because I couldn’t understand or comprehend it, there was nothing wrong with me. Maybe there was lol, I don’t know, I know that I felt normal until my parents stopped talking to me.

I don’t feel good or confident in my writings right now, but ill keep writing. My parents are judges, like not real ones, like the kind of people who judge others a lot, ridicule them for their mistakes. I was judged so hard I let them win and started judging myself the way they did me… my dad decided to throw in a little ‘the gym is not a fashion show just so you know’ after I expressed wanting to go to the gym with him, and the rest of my family lol. I said ‘I don’t go to the gym like it’s a fashion show why would you say that’ and then he said ‘I just know what girls are like’ ????? I said well don’t you know me? And he told me to shut up and he walked away, lol. My parents always shut down the conversation by telling us to either shut up, for fuck off. I’ve always wanted the conversation, the hard ones, the meaningful ones, the ones where we learn and where we dig, something not so surface lev. Is it just me? Who needs to know wtf is going on in order to understand it? I haven’t had a fucking conversation in decades

If my issue with substance abuse is that once I have 1 taste I need to have another, what I’m saying is I take it too far, every time with every substance, I just gotta get high. I have to feel the feeling, and once I feel It, I just wanna feel it more, thats my issue. And I forgot what I was gonna say about that because I was interrupted while writing lol. I would never ever want my parents to see the potentially mean light I see them under, but its the truth, but I would never want to hurt their feelings, yet they hurt mine so many times. I was a good kid, I was happy I was joyful I was playful I was loud I was TALKATIVE I as a good well mannered fkn kid. And then I was abandoned. I’m a different kinda fucked up mannnnn, I was LEFT, while under the same roof, I was done to them. Because they didn’t couldn’t let down what ever bullshit wall they had up, I was determined to know my parents, but they weren’t all that keen on me. I guess thats how I feel in every relationship I’m in, scared they’re gonna drop me, ill have no one, but ill be forced to be respectful when I was continuously disrespected, negated and left behind. And yanno, I wasn’t exactly friends with my siblings because I never came out of my room…. It was an unsafe place for me to be, outside my room. I was friends with my brother outside of my room bc we used to go to school together, we always went late coz mum & dad were already at work, I used to write our late notes, anyways idk, its just all making me now realise how grateful and happy I am with life at the moment, Im really starting to see a future for myself, which is crazy, I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I’m such a positive attitude bitch!!!!!! Honestly I can turn any thought into a positive one, and I unconsciously prove this to myself everyday, all my thoughts are positive, lol. Thoughts are just thoughts, but when they become overwhelming, at least make expositive, you have the power, its just forgetfulness that betrays us.

Im a cuddly and super a friendly person I like to give and show love when I love someone, it can be a bit intense sometimes lol, I don’t show this kind of love often, only to a very special few. I have a maternal kind of love, I just want to take care of you. Blah blah blah, I don’t think I can feel that kind of love again, I don’t know why, well, idk why I say shit like that because maybe I do know and maybe saying idk is a response you give when you don’t want to dig deeper, its like your personal ‘shut up’ you hear from your parents in your ear hahahahahaha. Idk Mann, I’m pretty blazed, so I feel good, its hot though, its also 8pm so my meds have kicked in and I’m teeeee ruuuurrddd.. BOUND2

I am the space between everything i can see. I am space. I could never really figure out what was wrong with me but I remember everyone being so pissed at me for doing some of my own business type shit, like I was extremely hyper active Sexually I was drunk like every day lol, so was everyone else in my house tho???? So what the fuck is wrong with ME. I’m doing the same shit y’all fkn do y’all mad. Okay that sounded a lot like old K, and I’m trying to be better.

[captainsophiestark]

Head Cold

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Agent Carter Bingo 2022! @agentcarterbingo​

Fandom: Marvel

Square Filled: “Go away.”

Summary: Jack Thompson's a notorious workaholic who doesn't stop for anything, even a cold that's almost completely knocked him out. Thankfully, Y/N's around to make sure he takes care of himself, and she's not about to let his stubborn nature win.

Word Count: 3,120

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Illness, not super graphically depicted, it’s just a slightly nasty head cold

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I'd had a crush on Jack Thompson since the day I'd started working at the SSR. He could be a total ass sometimes, but I remained convinced that a heart of gold lay underneath the posturing. Every day, I watched as he walked past my desk to his office as Chief.

Which was why I noticed that today he looked like shit.

Despite my staring, Jack had never really noticed me, at least not more than he noticed Peggy and Daniel. And he certainly didn't notice me today as he trudged to his office with his head down, bags under his eyes topping off the impression that he'd suddenly been replaced by a zombie.

He walked past me, then Daniel and Peggy, and slammed the door to his office behind him. I turned around to see if my two friends had also noticed his condition, but they hadn't looked up from their work.

I faced forward again and stared at the pile of papers on my own desk, debating my options. I hoped Jack wouldn't push himself past his limits and come to work when he should've stayed home, but part of me knew he'd push until he dropped. And he'd looked like literal garbage when he walked past my desk a minute ago.

I tapped my foot and pulled one of my files closer, keeping part of my attention on the door to Jack's office. I'd give it a little while, and if I didn't see him, I'd go check on him myself.

As it worked out, I didn't have to go to Jack. He ended up coming to me.

"Agents Carter, Sousa, and Y/L/N," he called into the bullpen, swaying in his doorway as his hoarse voice struggled for volume. "My office. Now."

This time I saw Peggy and Daniel exchanging concerned looks. They'd finally noticed what I'd seen when the Chief came in: Jack Thompson looked like death warmed over.

"What's up, Jack?" asked Sousa, stepping into the room as I carefully shut the door behind us. "You don't look too good."

Jack just waved him off without looking up from his desk. He slouched in his chair, failing to paint even half the imposing portrait he usually did.

"I'm fine." The congestion lacing every word said otherwise. "I've got a case for you three to get working on."

Peggy and Daniel shared a skeptical glance, but didn't say anything. I squinted my eyes and crossed my arms, staring Jack down.

"We've got intel about Leviathan potentially rearing its ugly head again. I need the three of you on it. Case files are here."

He pointed to several stacks of papers on his desk, but didn't stand. He clearly didn't have the energy for something like that.

Peggy and Daniel shared another look, then moved forward to grab the files. They both stared Jack down, and he stared right back, looking completely exhausted. Still, the duo did nothing. Daniel scooped up my case file for me, handing it to me as we all headed for the door.

"C'mon, Y/N," he said. "Let's get started."

I didn't take my eyes off Jack, but he just stared blankly at the desk in front of him. Like he was contemplating how bad it might hurt if he simply passed out and bounced his head off it in the process.

Peggy gently grabbed my arm and led me from the office with her and Daniel. We stopped just outside the door, Daniel closing it behind us this time. The three of us made a tight circle next to Peggy's desk, and I raised my eyebrows in question at my two friends.

"Why aren't we doing anything about Thompson?" I asked. "He's clearly sick as a dog. He shouldn't be working right now."

Peggy sighed as Daniel explained.

"You weren't here for it, but he's been like this before," Daniel began. "He came in here like a ghost, and sat at his desk working away. This was before he was Chief."

"Everyone in the office tried to get him to go home," Peggy continued with a tired sigh. "He looked terrible enough that even I let some of the things he'd said go and tried to persuade him. He wouldn't budge. He insisted on working through it."

I scowled as Daniel picked up the story where Peggy left off. "Nobody could get him to give it up. Eventually, Dooley saw how bad he was hurting and ordered him home. Said he'd fire Thompson on the spot, best agent in the office or no, if he didn't knock off and get some rest. Thompson still put up a hell of a fight, but he couldn't ignore the direct order."

"But now, he's the one giving the orders," Peggy finished. "He's not going to order himself home, and no one else here has the power to make it happen."

I scowled and turned from my friends to squint at Jack's office door.

"Yeah, well, like you said. I wasn't here last time." I turned back to my friends. "Can you guys hold things down here and take charge if I get him out of here?"

"Sure, but good luck," said Daniel. "He showed just how stubborn and thick-headed he could be last time."

"He's about to meet his damn match," I promised, more to myself than my friends. I passed my case file over to Peggy, who took it with a small smile, then I turned to face Jack's office door again.

I marched forward, shoulders back and head high as I extended a hand and hammered on the wood. I heard a groan of pain from inside, then Jack's raspy voice.

"What?"

"Lemme in, Thompson," I said. "You're sick as a dog, and you're too stubborn to admit it. I intend to do something about it."

"Go away."

"Wrong answer."

I briefly debated just breaking down the door and barging in there, but I paused. I had another option to try before brute force. That could be my plan B.

I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair and knelt down in front of the door, snapping the pin in half as I went. Not as precise as actual lock picking tools, but I'd made it work before.

And I made it work again. The lock gave a satisfying click, and I pulled the pieces of the bobby pin out before turning the door handle. The door swung open easily and I stepped inside Jack's office, swiftly closing the door behind me. Jack snapped his head up from his desk, where he'd been face-down.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"Determination," I said, quickly crossing the office to stand by Jack. "Now come on, Thompson. Get up and go home."

Jack shook his head, leaning back in his chair to survey me. It would've been a power move, but he immediately started hacking and coughing, which ruined the image.

"I have work to do here," he finally said, gathering himself enough to look at me again. "I can't call out sick and shirk all my duties just because I have a little cold."

"Alright, first of all, you have plenty of capable agents who can deal with the workload so you can get healthy again," I said. "And second of all... you're not going to get any work done by staying here a second longer than you already have."

"I don't know why you all insist on completely babying me, but I'm not so sick that I can't fill out some papers-"

"Oh, that's not what I mean." I cut Jack off as I walked around the desk, picking up two pens before sitting on the edge of it. "I mean, you're not going to be able to do any more work because I'm not going to let you get any work done until you go home."

Jack opened his mouth, probably to ask what the hell I was talking about, but before he could, I started drumming the pens on the table and singing at the top of my lungs.

"Go home Thompson, go home and take a naaaaaaap..."

Jack just stared at me for a few beats as I carried on, apparently trying to process what he was seeing. Finally, after my fourth verse, he snapped out of it enough to yell at me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Y/L/N?"

"I told you," I said, temporarily pausing my drumming and singing. "No one in this office can order you to go home and get some rest. So I'm taking it into my own hands to force you to take care of yourself another way."

Jack just stared at me, shocked. I waited, looking right back at him. I made sure the patience on my face told Jack clear as day that I was willing to wait him out in every single way, including spending this entire day in his office being annoying, if that's what it took.

"You know, I could always order someone to get you out of here," Jack mumbled, glancing over my shoulder like he was considering it.

"Absolutely no one in the office is going to take your side on this," I said plainly. Jack seemed to consider for another minute, and then he sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair when he realized I was right.

"Fine. Fine, dammit. I'll go home."

"Great! I'll get your coat."

Jack stared at me as I crossed the room and grabbed his coat and briefcase, then held out a hand for him to help him stand up. Still, he just stared.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm helping you get home."

"I don't need help getting home," he sneered. Or, tried to. The congestion and the coughing lessened the effect a little bit.

"Whether or not that's true is beside the point," I said. "I'm going to help you get home because I don't trust for a single second that you won't smuggle out some papers and try to do work in a diner if I don't keep an eye on you."

Jack scowled at me, and I could tell he'd been planning exactly that. I just grinned back at him and offered my hand again.

"C'mon, Chief. Let's get you outta here."

****************

Jack huffed and complained the whole way back to his apartment. I kept a tight hold on his briefcase, so he couldn't find any spot to sneak in work, and he wasn't happy about that. He couldn't do much about it, though. The cold was wearing on him, I could tell. And now that he didn't have any work to distract him, the exhaustion was starting to creep in.

"Alright, this one's yours?" I asked, coming to a stop outside the apartment Jack said was his.

"Yeah, this is me."

"You've got your keys?"

He nodded, searching his pockets for a few seconds before pulling out a ring. He fumbled with them, sagging against the wall as he found the right key and turned it in the lock. My heart squeezed as I watched him. He was looking really, really rough.

He managed to get the door open and swayed like he was about to fall through the doorway, but stopped short to look back at me.

"Uh... thanks. For the help."

"No problem," I said, my heart racing a little faster in my chest. "Uh, Jack... I know you don't need the help, or whatever, but... you really are looking kind of rough. Do you- I mean, if you want, I could come in and... make you some soup or something?"

Jack stared at me for a long beat, and I couldn't quite read the emotion in his face. He blinked a few times, then finally looked away and sighed.

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice."

I gave him a soft smile, then before I could second guess myself, I pulled one of his arms around my shoulders and helped him over the threshold.

I kicked the door shut behind me and forced myself to ignore the butterflies exploding in my chest. I was in Jack Thompson's apartment.

The hacking cough from my crush quickly helped snap me out of any lingering giddiness. I was here because he was sick as a dog, and I really did hate to see him like this.

"Kitchen's in there," said Jack, clearing his throat a little before he spoke.

"Alright, great. Here, why don't you lay down and I'll whip something up," I said, aiming for the couch in the living room. I helped Jack lay down, and thankfully, he didn't even protest when I pulled a blanket up over him and set his briefcase far, far away.

"Thanks for this, Y/L/N. You really didn't have to do this."

"Don't worry about it, Jack," I said. I walked the other few feet into the kitchen, then looked through the cabinets until I found everything I needed. I started cooking, and it wasn't long before the soup was ready to go.

I put it in a bowl and double checked that it wasn't too hot, then headed back into the living room. When I rounded the couch, however, I found Jack completely passed out.

I couldn't help a smile when I saw him. He looked much calmer like this than he usually did at the office, without all the swagger, stress, and bravado. I sat down in a chair next to him, deciding to sip some of the soup myself. There was more on the stove to reheat when Jack woke up.

I debated leaving a few times, but I really didn't want Jack to wake up alone when he felt so shitty. In the end, I decided to pick up his briefcase and do some of the paperwork he'd been trying to push through earlier. Might as well help Peggy and Daniel keep things running, even if I wasn't in the office to do it.

By the time Jack finally stirred, it was evening. I looked up from the papers I'd been pouring over as he shifted on the couch, coughing a little but already looking better than he had before. He glanced around the apartment until his eyes finally landed on me.

"Y/N. You're still here."

"Yeah. Sorry, I just didn't want to ditch you when you felt so bad. I managed to get through some of the more boring aspects of this paperwork while you were out too. Here, let me go heat up some soup. You must be starving."

Jack nodded as I stood and walked into the kitchen. It didn't take me long to heat the soup, and this time when I came back into the living room, Jack was still awake and even sitting up.

He watched me as I rounded the couch and sat beside him, passing over the warm bowl of soup. I gave him a soft smile.

"So how are you feeling?" I asked as he took a sip.

"...Better, although I hate to admit your stupid scheme actually helped."

"Don't worry, I'll wait to gloat until you're healthy."

Jack huffed a laugh, then set down his spoon and looked at me.

"Why are you still here, Y/N? And I want more than some line about wanting to take care of me. Why do you care so much?"

I started, blinking stupidly as Jack just stared at me. I stuttered a little, trying to think of an answer, but I couldn't really think of anything but the truth.

"I... well, I care about you, Jack. A lot. I... I actually have for a little while now."

"...Are you trying to tell me you've got a thing for me, Y/L/N?"

My face started burning as I looked away. "Actually Jack, I'm trying very hard to avoid telling you that."

Jack huffed a laugh, and when I looked back at him, I found him glaring into his soup bowl. My heart dropped.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to make anything weird," I started. "Let's just pretend it never-"

"Y/L/N, I feel the same way," he said, finally looking back at me. He had a slight smile on his face now, which was the only thing keeping me from absolutely combusting from embarrassment. "I'm just pissed at myself for not noticing how you felt. I give Carter shit all the time for being so blind about Sousa, but now I finally get why she always just laughed in my face."

I grinned, and Jack did too. He still looked a little rough, pale with bags under his eyes, but even his cold couldn't dull the shine of how handsome he looked.

"So you're saying you feel the same way?" I managed to ask.

"Yeah, Y/N. I'm saying that."

Jack and I locked eyes, and my heart leaped in my chest with utter joy. Jack set aside the soup and started leaning in towards me. I started to lean towards him, too, caught up in the moment until I managed to remember why I was here in the first place.

I sighed deeply and put a hand on Jack's chest, stopping him in his tracks. I leaned away, and Jack raised an eyebrow at me.

"What's the problem?"

"You're sick as a dog, remember?" I sighed. "I'm not trying to catch whatever you have, Thompson. Kiss me as soon as you're healthy."

"Y/L/N..."

"Nope. I'm not changing my mind. After following you around all day, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I don't want this cold."

Jack sighed heavily, looking seriously dejected. It pulled on my heartstrings just a little bit, but not anywhere close to enough to get me to change my mind.

"Look at it this way," I said. Jack perked up, and I couldn't help the mischievous grin that formed on my face. "The more you take care of yourself and give yourself time to rest and get healthy, the sooner we can have our first date and happy ending."

Jack huffed and glared at me, but took another sip of his soup nonetheless. I just smiled and leaned back against the couch cushions.

"Let's plan on this weekend," I said. "If you take another day or two to yourself to get healthy, you should be ready for a night on the town by then."

Jack shot me a glare as he leaned back on the couch next to me, brooding over his soup. I just smiled as I watched him, waiting for his answer.

"Fine," he muttered after a few beats. "I guess I can stick Carter and Sousa with a slightly heavier work load for another day or two. It'll be worth it in the end, after all."

With that, he turned to me with a wolfish grin. I smiled right back. I couldn't wait for him to be done with this cold.

I'd been waiting a long time for this moment with Jack Thompson. I could manage another day or two while he got healthy.

[cursestothemoon]

hellooooo<3 so, ive always loved the idea of Harry having an older protective sister(he really need one😭) could u pls do a headcanon of how she protects harry and their relationship? annnnddd how she also is dating Fred?? my heart needs it, pls and thank u❤️

i LOVE THIS 

(also i switch from third person pov to second person in the middle of this so im sorry :) but its fine ) 

ok 

i know a common headcanon/ fancanon for harry’s sister is that she looks like lily 

but hear me out 

Y/n Potter who looks exactly like James 

i mean to the T

and Lily would always make little teasing comments about how both her kids look like their dad and james is just :)

anyway

just picture it 

dark brown, wavy hair that was just tussled enough at all times

blue eyes

and the round rimmed glasses that James used to wear

stOP SHE WEARS HER DADS GLASSES BECAUSE WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE SHE’D PULL THEM OFF OF HIM AND AFTER HE DID SHE KEPT THEM AND WHEN SHE MISSES HIM SHE WEARS THEM AND THEY ARE SLIGHTLY TOO BIG AND SIT CROOKED ON HER FACE 

i made myself cry

anyway

lets talk protecting harry first then we will get into dating fred 

so she’s older meaning she’d be in Hogwarts for before him

let’s say she's two years older

George and Fred’s year

and she’d hear the whispers about her 

obviously

and i think she wouldn't tell harry

she would know the story of how their parents died and who harry was to the wizarding community but in an effort to protect Harry’s innocence and childhood for just a little while longer she wouldn’t tell him

at least not until he got to school then she’d be the one to tell him everything 

she is fiercely protective of Harry 

if someone so much as looked at him funny she was chewing their head off 

Harry might’ve been like James 

but Y/n Potter is James 

down to the way her eyes would narrow at someone in class when they made a rude comment 

or she’d try to charm her way out of trouble 

or charm Harry out of trouble

oH MY GOD SHE’D BE IN MCGONAGALL’S CLASS AND ONE OF HER FRIENDS WOULD SAY SOMETHING FUNNY AND SHE’D BE TRYING SO HARD TO HOLD IN HER LAUGH AND SHE’D MAKE THE SAME FACE JAMES WOULD MAKE WHEN TRYING NOT TO LAUGH

Mcgonagall almost cried 

she needed a moment 

ok Y/n would take the first week or so just to show Harry around Hogwarts 

she did not care if she was late

Harry was going to feel comfortable 

oH SHE NEARLY BEAT OLIVER WOOD WITH A BEATER’S BAT WHEN SHE FOUND OUT HE PUT HER TEENY LITTLE BROTHER ON THE QUIDDITCH TEAM AS A SEEKER

she is also part of the team, a chaser

will get spend most of the first few games with Harry making sure he’s ok

yeah malfoy doesn’t stand a chance

never did

10/10 would use the cloak to prank him

all the time

nothing is out of limits 

especially after he’s been nasty to Harry and his friends

growing up harry gets all embarrassed when she protects him because hes 15!1!1! he can handle it 

she is kinda hurt 

very dramatic 

“mY WITTLE BROTHER DOESN’T NEED ME”

“y/n... please”

“nO ITS OK HARRY I GET IT, ILL GO”

“where are you going?”

“YOU DON’T NEED ME ANYMORE, I AM NO LONGER NEEDED HERE”

“you don't HAVE TO LEAVE, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS”

Ron was giggling on the couch in the common room he thought this whole scene was hilarious 

ron thinks she is so cool

ok i think she’d also have these little bits of lily that would shine through

unlike harry and james, who could just inhale near a book and get just above average grades

she took pride in studying and being able to sit down and absorb material 

Lily always passed with flying colors because she was a good student who wanted to prove herself 

it was the satisfaction of spending hours studying and being able to retain the information and apply it to earn an amazing grade that she loved

she passed this on to you

as well as her kindness to people who she believed deserved it

and quick wit

you two also had the same hands 

you had everything else from James but your hands looked like your mothers

down to the way your nails grew and fingers held a quill

snape hated it

because he really couldn’t hate you

he was weird around you though

hes just weird

where he'd bully and embarrass Harry 

he couldn’t do that to you because you wouldn’t give him the chance to

you knew the material

you knew the answer 

and he hated how when your hand shot up it looked just like Lily’s 

but you were making the stupid face James would when he’d concentrate 

you did not like snape

at first you were impartial 

then when you heard how rude he was to Harry...

it was also over for him

he didn’t stand a chance 

you had an affinity for pranks, fiercely protective, and you had gall 

your hand writing also looked like Lilys and snape had a rough time grading your essays

tough for him 

:)

also if any rumors went around about harry you were quick to make them actually about you

harry is the heir of slytherin?

actually no Y/n Potter is, there is no evidence but we just heard that it was her somewhere 

you didn’t care as long as no one was being rude to Harry

leTS TALK DEATHLY HALLOWS

so you don’t go with them on the hunt for Horcrux 

and you’d be going insane not knowing how they were or if they were ok

because all your life you had been able to protect to some extent 

but you were completely helpless now

you could do nothing

and then at the battle of hogwarts 

pLEASE

no one stood a chance

the feeling of seeing harry again

beaten, bruised, but still alive 

it was overwhelming

then seeing Hagrid crying in his seemingly dead body

also overwhelming

because you had failed 

you couldn't protect him 

and he heard you scream first 

it was loud and strangled and Harry felt so bad but he knew he had to do this 

I like to think Y/n Potter is the one who killed Voldemort in the end 

you cant argue with me on this sorry

ok

now

lets talk

dating freddie

so he’d probably notice you here and there starting in first year

but he was an eleven year old boy and girls were not on his radar right now

but he thought you were funny and pretty cool 

and your round glasses that were just a little too big for your adolescent face made you look cute 

then you tried out for the quidditch team with him and George 

you were amazing 

not only did you have James natural talent for the sport but that paired with Lily’s tactical thinking and quick mind

you were unstoppable 

you were brought on the team as a seeker 

and you were good at it too, but it wasn’t you’re favorite position

it entailed a lot of waiting and not really moving until you caught sight of the snitch

it was your excellent flying mixed with the fact that you literally had no sense of self preservation that made you a really good seeker

you'd just

nose dive 

if you hit the bottom you hit the bottom oh well 

but when Harry showed up you were happy to give him your position as seeker and take on the more exciting (at least to you) job of chaser

it was your quidditch playing that really got fred’s attention

because you were good 

and during team lunches or team hang outs you were always the life of the party

not because you were avidly trying to be 

but like james, people jus gravitated to your goofiness and happiness 

it was about the middle of fifth year fred realized he had a crush on you

and little man was panicked 

you had noticed fred before that

obviously 

but he was always just the funny guy on the team 

but as everyone knows the potter’s have a thing for gingers 

and it was when they came to pick you and Harry up from the Dursley's just before the quidditch world cup that you saw how attractive he really was 

please its james and lily all over again

kinda 

you become the funniest person in the room when he’s around

always smiley

lilypad?

no.

freddie bug

aH STOP PLEASE THAT’S SO CUTE

YOU’D JUST STARE AT HIM WITH A STUPID SMILE 

it would get to the point you'd be just blatantly flirting 

and fred bluSHES

BECAUSE HE ISN’T USED TO BEING THE ONE ON THE RECEIVING END OF SUCH CLEAR FLIRTING

usually he is the one to pick up girls

he has the charm

likes to make them blush

but yOU CAN JUST LOOK AT HIM WITH A STUPID SMILE AND HES BE ALL GIDDY 

he could barely get a compliment in between your flirting

“Morning Freddie bug, looking cute as always.”

George thinks it both hilarious and disgusting

ron just thinks its disgusting 

but fred is ultimately the one to make the first move to be more than just friends who flirt when the yule ball comes around

he asks you

“Potter! Potter!”

“yes?”

“You, me, Yule ball....”

and as he’s pantomiming it (ya know like in the movie) he also pantomimes a very heavy make out session then what you could assume would be kisses all over your face

it was now your turn to blush as you agreed to go with him

you guys started dating after that :)

pLEASE ONCE HARRY GOT WITH GINNY AND HE SAW A PICTURE OF YOUR PARENTS 

YOUR MOM BEING A RED HEAD AND YOU AND HARRY LOOKING JUST LIKE YOUR DAD

HE WOULD NOT STOP THE JOKES

“i see why you’re with me. it’s my hair isnt it?”

“what? no its no-”

“you probably wouldn’t even look my way if i didn’t have red hair. you potters are unbelievable.”

“you are such a dummy”

“oH AM I? BUT YOU KEEP ME AROUND BECAUSE OF THE HAIR. I SHOULD’VE KNOWN IT WASN’T MY SPARKLING PERSONALITY THAT YOU LOVE.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

@siriusement

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Weather

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Sickness. 

Word Count: 1,518

“I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

Harry felt bad. Correction: Harry felt terrible. He watched as you crawled into your bed with sunken eyes and a nasty sounding cough. He wouldn’t ever say this out loud, but you didn’t look so good at all. It was all his fault that you were sick, and he wouldn’t let himself forget it anytime soon.

He had just recovered from possibly the worst case of the flu that he had ever fallen ill with. It had knocked him on his ass for a week due to the fatigue, coughing, fever, and body aches. Pomfrey had done all she could to try to make him comfortable enough, but the strain was just a bit more than her remedies could fix this time around. He was stuck in bed with nothing to do but roll around in his sickness and complain about how bad he felt. 

In the end, Harry was able to recover swiftly and without any real problems. Before too long, he was as good as new thanks to your help. You had taken extra good care of him by keeping him cool from the fever but warm from the chills. You made sure he was eating, even if it was just chicken and soup everyday. You made sure he was hydrated and getting plenty of rest to ensure his recovery...which also included lots of snuggles and kisses.

It turned out that those snuggles and kisses were rather sickly ones, and about the time that Harry was fully feeling better, you had begun to feel crummy. Harry actually noticed it before you did. It was extremely rare for you to sleep later than him. You almost always were up and going before him, but on particular Friday morning, you were still knocked out when he woke up. Not only that, you were unusually warm and ill looking. He had pressed the back of his hand to your head, feeling a pit of guilt when he realized that you definitely were running a fever.

He had woken you up, feeling even worse when you began to cough. He had practically jumped out of your bed, wrapping you up and doing whatever he could to make you comfortable. You had all the same symptoms that he did, and you were guaranteed to be in for a long week. He had insisted that he take another week off from classes to watch over you, but he was already a week behind, and there was no chance that you were letting him fall back more on your account.

He went through all of his classes in a haze of worry. He knew that he had undoubtedly gotten you sick. There was no way that you could’ve gotten it from anyone else. He didn’t even stop in the common room after his classes, going straight back to your dorm where he had left you. When he did walk into your room, you were standing at your trunk, looking weak and drained. You would’ve thought that you had tried to mouth off to Professor Snape by the way Harry reacted.

“What are you doing?!” He shrieked, closing your door and rushing to you.

You threw your hands up in defense, sniffling more drainage out of your nasal passageway.

“What? I’m getting changed. I was in the same pajamas from last night and I felt gross,” You explained with a congested tone, not seeing the big deal, “I’m fine, Harry.”

He ruffled your hair when he noticed it was damp. His face fell into even more horror.

“Did you shower?” He asked as if it were a crime.

“Uh, yes?” You replied nonchalantly.

“But you’re sick! You could’ve...I don’t know! You could’ve fainted or sneezed so hard that you fell or-”

“Harry, I’m not dying. It’s just the flu.” You argued, giggling at his dramatic act.

That sealed the deal. He was dedicating his entire weekend to make sure you were at least on the road to recovery by Monday if you weren’t going to “take care” of yourself.

“Get in bed, you mad woman! What are you doing up?!” He shrilled again, ushering you to your bed again.

That was when you returned to bed to put HIM at ease, looking and sounding just plain awful. That was also when he REALLY started to feel guilty for your current state. He rushed around the room, setting things up the way you had in his when he had been sick. He layered blankets onto your bed, turned on some soft music, made sure the windows were closed to make sure you didn’t catch a cold draft. The only difference was that you had spoken to him in sweet, calm tones. Harry was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“Are you warm enough, my love?” Harry asked, adding yet another blanket on top of you, rushing to your desk on the other side of the room.

“Yes, Harry. I told you that I’m fin-”

“Do you want a book? Or maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and bring you a snack?” Harry rattled off, barely letting you get a word in.

“No, angel. I don’t want-”

“I promise I don’t mind! The castle is pretty quiet this time of night and Filch is easy to sneak around and-”

“Harry!” You finally croaked out through your already hoarse voice, “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” 

Harry’s demeanor softened. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed. He was getting himself worked up over nothing, and panicking wasn’t going to solve anything at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” He said, sitting on the edge of your bed, “I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

You shrugged under the pile of covers, giving him a feeble grin. 

“I’m okay. I don’t feel that bad. Just a little under the weather I guess.” You brushed it off.

Harry smiled softly with an even gentler laugh. You certainly didn’t look “a little under the weather”. He had been much more difficult when he was sick. He kicked the sheets off of his body and complained that it was too hot, and then hissed that it was too cold each time he got a new chill. He whined when he had to keep changing clothes because the sweating from his fever dampened his pajamas. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content, even in your ill state. 

“If you say so. Can I squeeze in with you, darling?” He queried, wanting to hold you close in your bed.

“I don’t want you to get sick again. You’re already behind.” You shook your head.

“I don’t care about that. I just want to be with you, my pretty girl.” Harry bantered.

He knew you hated missing school, and you were sure to miss at least a week. The thought of you having to spend the next several days cooped up in your dorm made him feel awful. Worst of all, you weren’t your normal, healthy self and it was all because of him. He wanted you to be happy and at your best at all times, because seeing you happy made him happy. 

“[Y/N], baby, I’m sorry I got you sick. I shouldn’t have let you get so close to me and love up on me. If I had known it was so contagious I would’ve taken care of myself.” Harry apologized, his eyes lowering, finding your hand under all the sheets and giving it a caring caress. 

“It’s not your fault. I wanted to take care of you. I always want to...love up on you,” You remarked, laughing at his previous choice of wording, “I couldn’t let you be sick and not do anything. I care about you.”

Harry’s eyes found yours again, his lips upturning into a wide smile as he looked at your lovingly.

“You really love me that much, huh?” He questioned, bringing your clammy palm to his lips for a ginger kiss.

“That much and more,” You returned with a smirk, “Now shut up and get in bed with me. I need cuddles.”

Harry leapt up from the side of the bed, rushing to the empty, opposite side.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, crawling in and pulling you flush to his chest.

He winced at how warm you still were, but he was sure that the fever would subside with time. Harry’s paranoia had subsided almost completely, but he still kept a hand on your back to make sure you were breathing...just in case. He’d cater to your every need to make sure you’d be better soon. You’d be back to normal in no time with Harry Potter as your caretaker.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Harry. I really appreciate it.” You sniffed, beginning to feel drowsy as your body fought off the horrid sickness.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you safe and comfortable in his arms. It was something he would do until forever ran out...with or without a bad case of the flu.

“I’ll always take care of you. No matter what.”

******

Tags: @writingscape @lupinsslut @msmimimerton @thefilmcity

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

A new prompt for you! (Finally :3)

I'm picturing multiple couples or a family group (4+ adults) who share a cottage together in the middle of nowhere, living off the land. Winter is coming, bringing with it its chill winds and early dustings of snow. The people are hard at work every day, chopping wood and putting aside the last of the food for winter.

It's the worst possible time to get sick, yet someone does, coming down with a miserable, streaming cold and high fever. What do they do about it? How do the others respond?

Could have definite cottage core elements, or fantasy (since you're so good at writing that!) or contagion if you choose. Can't wait to see the results :)

It’s been so long since I’ve written a real, honest to god fic, so this will be my debut back into snzfucker favor!

Okay, okay, who to include in this house of contagion?

We need a soft healer boi that takes care of everyone before themselves, of course. A very strong, stoic, hardworking warrior with muscles of steel - but the same can’t be said for his immune system. A hyper comic relief (like if Scout from TF2 was in a fantasy setting) that insists he isn’t sick, but can’t keep back his sneezes long enough to prove his point. And, of course, a tall, thin scholar whose cold heart is only melted by his fever.

Adventurers packing it in for the winter and preparing for journeying in the spring, now only at most a few yards from each other and having shot immune systems from the exhausting work. Illness doesn’t have to travel far to infect…

Oh, this is gonna be good.

***********************

“Look look look! Otto, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Barlow skidded to a halt, almost tripping over his own two feet before regaining his balance. Otto chuckled.

“Alright, alright, que pasa? What is so exciting?”

Barlow fumbled with his cloak before pulling a shiny coin out of one of the pockets.

“I got this off a path when I was pickin’ berries! Must’ve been a merchant or something…”

Barlow’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Or maybe a warrior! Ooh, or a knight! Definitely somebody with a cape.”

He flung the back of his cloak behind him and stood tall, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. However, Barlow couldn’t keep the pose long - the frigid air made him close the thin burlap around himself again, shivering. Otto knitted their brow.

“You’re wearing your summer cloak,” they said, looking Barlow up and down. “You must be freezing, chiquito!”

Barlow waved his hand, as if batting away Otto’s concern.

“Don’t worry about it, doc. It’s gonna take more than a little wind to get me down.”

As if to prove a point, he spread out his arms and spun around, laughing at the many leaves he kicked up.

Otto would usually be charmed by the sprite’s antics, but their concern soon outweighed their amusement.

“Just make sure to change into your winter clothes soon, okay? I would hate for you to get sick.”

Barlow stopped spinning, coughing a bit as he caught his breath with chilly autumn air. His hot breath clouded around his face like smoke.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, “I’ll grab it when I go by the cottage. Forgot my basket anyway. See you around, doc.”

With a quick salute, Barlow ran off, cloak billowing behind him, still clenching the coin in a tight fist. Otto shook their head and sighed. They knew that Barlow just didn’t want them to worry - but that only made them worry more. The healer in them couldn’t help but notice red-tipped fingers, congested voices, and pallid complexions. Besides, with a harsh winter underway, a cold could very quickly rear its ugly head, turning into bronchitis, pneumonia, and even infect a person’s magic…

Otto took a deep breath. Their thoughts had run away with them - and now, more than ever, it was important to stay focused.

The doctor gathered up their scrolls, pulled their coat close, and started back to the cottage.

Perhaps a little tea would calm their nerves.

***************

“it’CHEW! CHEW!”

“Salud.”

“Ugh…thanks, doc. Snf!”

Otto looked up from his knitting to see Barlow rubbing his long, pointy ears with a pained look on his face.

“Do your ears hurt?”

Barlow put his hands in his lap. “No! Just, uh, a little itchy.”

Severin, who had been reading on the sofa across from Otto, hid a smirk behind the yellowed pages.

“Someone must be talking about you,” he drawled smugly. “Considering the way you conduct yourself, I’m not surprised.”

Instead of snapping back, Barlow still scratched at his ears. Severin slit his eyes and continued to read. He almost seemed disappointed.

“Could be thragweed,” Godric rumbled from a large wooden stool, rubbing his beard in thought, “but they usually shrivel up by the first frost. Didja see any three-leaved plants while you were out foragin’?”

Barlow shrugged, wincing as he rubbed harder. “Um…maybe?”

Otto frowned. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep scratching like that.”

“S-sorry, I…huh-hold on…”

Barlow buried himself in his cloak, with only his mop of red hair showing.

“hit’SHEW! Huh…it’TCHEW!”

The sprite continued to let out sneeze after sneeze, his wrinkled, pink nose only showing when he needed to come up for air. Otto got up from their chair, and they were soon holding him by the shoulders to keep him from knocking himself over.

Barlow finally finished, snuffling into his sleeve. He looked up at Otto with bleary eyes.

“Sorry, doc, I don’d dow whad’s gotten into be…”

Otto hushed him with a gentle pat, using their free hand to feel Barlow’s forehead. They clucked their tongue.

“Oh, mijo, you have a fever...”

Barlow’s breath caught, and he coughed into his shoulder. “Nah, I…I’b okay, Otto, really. I’ll be…snrk…fide in the morning. Just gotta sleep it off…”

Otto smiled gently. “Well, you’re right about one thing. A good night’s sleep is exactly what you need. And maybe a little salve for your poor ears…”

Their hand still on Barlow’s shoulder, Otto guided the sprite to his bedroom, mumbled protests and miserable sneezes trailing behind them.

***************

Barlow’s fever never grew very high - his burning ears and nose, however, kept him up for most of the night. By the time morning came, he was too exhausted to even feign health. Otto had to put him back to bed, which was only met with pitiful murmurings.

“‘M fide, doc, I…hetch’CHIIIEW!”

“Pobrecito! You sound even worse than yesterday…”

“C’mon, Otto, I…”

“I don’t want to see you out of bed today, okay, cariño? You need to rest.”

“Nngh…”

Otto and Severin split the foraging work, since their respective jobs were mostly planning and budgeting the winter ahead of them. Godric promised to keep a good eye on the patient, but that didn’t lessen the doctor’s worry any.

“I wonder how Barlow’s doing,” Otto murmured, probably for the umpteenth time since they’d begun their work.

Severin scrutinized his severely pricked thumb. “Children always carry around such nasty things. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught the plague instead of a simple cold.”

Otto froze mid-pick, and Severin hurried to correct himself.

“Peace, my friend. It is just a cold, after all.

He grimaced.

“One I dearly hope he keeps to himself.”

They both continued to fill their baskets with berries, wiping the frost off their shiny, black skins. However, Otto’s mind continued to race.

I shouldn’t have left him. Godric only knows so much. What happens if his fever spikes? I’m a healer, I’m not supposed to leave the sick behind. Should I go back? I should go back. No, I promised Barlow I’d get his foraging done. But I can’t keep a promise if he’s dead. What if he’s already dead? What if Godric’s on his way right now to tell me? What if I’m already too late? How will we bury him, the ground is too hard. Otto, your friend has died and all you can think about is how to bury him. You must be the most selfish -

“Otto.”

Otto snapped back to reality to see Severin giving him a fierce side-eye.

“It’s only a cold.”

Otto took a deep breath. “Right. Gracias. I…I lost myself, didn’t I?”

The afternoon went by in a quiet fervor, both of them trying to fill their baskets before the sun went down. With Otto’s quick fingers and Severin’s thin ones, it was an easy job, and the managed to get back before it got too dark.

Otto wasn’t two steps through the door before they were at Godric’s heels, wringing their hands and stammering through the worries that had built up through the day.

“Are you sure…how…did he…should I…?”

The warrior just chuckled and put a gigantic, calloused hand on the their head.

“He’s on tha’ mend, doc, on the mend. Sneezin’ his head off, sure, but gettin’ better.”

As if on cue, two loud sneezes interrupted them from one of the bedrooms, followed by a mumbled curse and a few wet sniffles. Godric shook his head.

“Been like that all day, poor tyke. When he wasn’ dozin’ off, tha’ is.”

Severin took a few scrolls out of his dragon-scale satchel.

“I understand you have a more…pressing engagement. Why don’t I take the calculations tonight?”

But Otto was already on their way to Barlow’s bedside, medicine bag in tow. Severin only lifted his eyebrows and turned on his heel, setting up the many notes he had taken and a few quills on the oaken table.

“Besides,” he murmured to himself, “I don’t want to get near whatever affliction that sprite’s come down with.”

*************

Barlow was scratching at his drooping ears, which were now covered in a red, peeling rash. Otto gently pushed his hands back under the quilt.

“I know it itches, but you need to try not to scratch.”

The healer took a small glass container out of their bag, dipping two fingers into the greenish-gray ointment inside. They began to apply the salve to Barlow’s ears, taking care not to put on too much.

“Tell me when you need a break,” Otto said.

Barlow nodded, eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes, his nostrils started to twitch, and he held up a hand.

“G-gudda…huh…!”

He jerked forward into his knees.

“hit’CHEW! hhhit’SHEW! Uh…hut’SHIEW!”

Barlow snuffled into the quilt, and Otto handed him a tissue.

“Salud.”

“Ugh…sorry, doc…”

Otto put the cork back into the glass bottle and set it on the bedside table.

“It’s alright - most sprites have the same reflex.”

“No, I beant…for…”

Barlow bit his lip, his ears drooping even lower.

“For geddin’ sick.”

Otto put a hand on the sprite’s back.

“Oh, mijo…”

“I-I didn’d mean to,” Barlow whimpered. “I…I should’ve god by coat like you told be to…and dow w-we’re - hic - gudda starve…”

Otto hushed him, pulling Barlow into an embrace and rocking him slowly back and forth.

“We will be fine, mijo,” they whispered, their voice soothing Barlow into a sniffle. “We will forage until you are better, and not a day before. That is what friends do. They protect each other, they take care of each other, and they love each other like family. And that is how I love you. Like my family.”

Barlow hiccuped, trying to speak through his tears.

“Shhh, mijo…it’s okay…”

Otto wrapped the quilt tighter around Barlow and laid him down, pushing hair damp with both tears and sweat out of his face. The sobs quieted, then dissolved into shaky breaths. Before Otto even made it through the doorway, they could hear small, congested snores coming from the pile of blankets.

*****************

Scritch scritch scritch…scriiiitch…

Harried quill scratching filled the air as Otto entered the living room, putting on their tweed coat and wool gloves. They stretched out their arms.

“Buenos días!”

Godric lifted his coffee mug as a greeting, his famous half-smile dancing over his lips.

“Well, aren’tcha bright as tha’ north star this mornin’!”

Otto beamed. Barlow had slept soundly through the night, and he was still fast asleep when they had checked on him. Not a sniffle or a sneeze came from that room.

“Severin, I was thinking we could pick up acorns today,” Otto thought aloud, buttoning their coat. “There is a beautiful place in the forest…”

Silence. The quill scratching only grew more manic. Otto glanced up.

Severin was hunched over the table, writing madly on several open scrolls, only pausing to move a few beads on his abacus. Otto went back to getting ready. Sometimes it took a while for Severin to answer if he was engrossed in his calculations. He would respond when he got to a stopping point.

After about fifteen minutes of fidgeting with their scarf, though, Otto tried again.

“From what I’ve seen, we should be ready for winter in a week, maybe less. All that’s left is the dried vegetables and a few more logs for firewood.”

Again, there was no answer. But now that Otto was a little closer, they could see why.

Severin’s eyes were inflamed and painful, as were his gaunt cheeks. His long, usually well-preened hair was matted against his forehead, with stray hairs sticking up this way and that. Thin shoulder blades came together with each labored breath. Long fingers shivered around a red quill, leaving stray marks on the parchment.

“Mi sombro,” Otto breathed.

The shadowling blinked, raising his head stiffly. Pools of sweat, shaken loose by the movement, streaked down their face.

“I…couldn’t sleep,” Severin croaked. “Have I…have I been awake…?”

Godric looked up from his mug, finally noticing the sorcerer’s state. “Stars above, lad! Ya look like hell frozen over!”

The shadowling stared straight ahead, his breath coming in ragged strains.

“Could someone…please put out the fireplace…?”

Otto clucked their tongue, putting their hands on either side of Severin’s neck. His dark eyes fluttered shut, as if with great relief.

“Mm…”

“Ay, tu cabeza,” Otto cooed, putting their hand on Severin’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Severin finally looked down at the doctor. His tense gaze was now dazed, vulnerable - even afraid.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said again, hoarsely.

Otto rubbed their thumb on Severin’s feverish cheek. “I know, cariño. I know.”

***************

It took a lot more doing to get Severin to bed than it did Barlow. Not only did he insist he was perfectly well, only warm from the unlit fireplace, but that he had seen terrifying visions outside the window.

“Their eyes, doctor…they stared into my very essence…a…a beast of some kind…we’ll be killed…”

“Shhh, my love. It’s only a nightmare from your fever. You will feel better soon.”

In the end, the only way Otto could leave the cottage was by taking a small talisman Severin had in his cloak. They weren’t superstitious, but Otto wanted to do anything they could to put the sick sorcerer at ease.

Now with one less healthy person in the group, Otto rushed to get the last of the supplies for the cold winter ahead. The first snowflakes were beginning to fall, which made finding acorns that much more difficult. Before the sun reached its peak, the ground was completely covered in a thin layer of snow. But, for once, Otto’s anxiety was an advantage.

They plowed through every task as if their life depended on it. Another of their friends falling ill had kicked their healer instinct into high gear; whenever they were fatigued or sore, all it took was a few words of the healing oath to get them going again.

“From the monsters of the cave, of the sea, of the heart,” they whispered while peeling wild wolf onions, “I shall protect and provide for those who cannot.”

As morning turned to afternoon, the light flurry of the morning became a bitter gale that howled through the trees like a hungry animal. The world was silent except for the frigid wind - all the creatures of the forest knew well enough that the winter ahead would not be kind to them.

But Otto knew nothing of this.

And so they marched forward.

It was quite past dark when Otto returned to the cottage. Much to their delight, a fire was flickering in the fireplace, and a wonderful, familiar smell lingered in the air - a mixture of tender meat and spices.

As Otto had hoped, there was a pot of stew left over the flames. The broth still bubbled with warmth, and the chicken and vegetables gave off a heavenly steam. Their stomach suddenly felt very hollow.

They hadn’t eaten all day, had they?

With raw fingers, the doctor tried their best to use the ladle, which was as big as their entire arm and weighed twice as much. Gripping the handle with both hands, they brought the brew to their lips, taking care not to burn their tongue.

A beautiful, soothing flavor poured down Otto’s throat. They leaned their head back and closed their eyes, making sure to drink up every last tasty morsel. It was a long time before the ladle was empty again.

Once they were finished, the healer felt a heaviness collect around their eyes. Finally, at long last, they could rest. The cottage was fast asleep - and now it was time for Otto to follow suit.

Sleep came upon Otto too quickly for them to retire to their own bed. Like a hound after a successful hunt, they crawled onto the sofa and curled into a ball, dead to the world before their head hit the soft cushions.

*******************

Otto wasn’t sure how long they slept. They remembered bits and pieces of dreams, of words, or memories - but mostly a comforting darkness that lulled them into a deep drowse.

When they finally awoke, the first thing they saw was the flitting of the fire. The flame had all but burned itself out during the night. Otto rolled over, stretching and sighing with satisfaction. That was the best they had slept in several days.

They indulged themselves in a large yawn and shifted off the sofa, cringing from cold stone against their bare feet.

The cottage was still silent with sleep - not a thing stirred but the creaks and groans of the wooden beams. A frigid wind had picked up outside, and bits of snow swirled in the air.

How cold Godric must be this morning, Otto thought as they padded towards the hallway. The warrior was always up and working by first light - quite before anyone else was awake - but came back inside to drink some hot coffee and see how the preparations were going. Godric made a strong cup of coffee. One could smell it and be ready for a new day; that’s usually all most could stand without sputtering.

Today, however, there was no earthy aroma of it brewing. All Otto could smell was a hint of the stew they had eaten the night before - the husk of a beautiful, delicious dream.

The doctor peeked his head into Barlow’s room. The sprite was laying on his stomach, eyes closed and breath soft. Though they had been feeling better for the past day or so, Barlow’s nose frequently ran away with him, and was still very pink and sensitive. His upright ear twitched ever so slightly, but there was no sign of him stirring any time soon.

Severin, on the other hand, had fared much worse. Despite the many wet rags coating almost every inch of his febrile body, his breathing was still heavy and labored, and his eyes darted under closed eyelids. Bite marks covered cracking lips. Otto made sure they made little noise as they tiptoed from the doorway. Severin needed all the rest he could get.

Otto turned from his patients, a familiar heaviness weighing upon their heart. Such misery in what was supposed to be a warm season of reaping and feasting.

Perhaps it came back with them from market, or from the many travelers that take the nearby road into town. With how hard everyone had been working, and how many nights were left unslept…

Otto massaged the bridge of their nose, dashing from one possibility to the next, feeling more and more ashamed by how little they prepared, how stupid they must have been, how utterly selfish! They had been so busy with preparations that they had barely noticed that their journeymates were wasting away!

They could have done something. This was all their fault, wasn’t it? How could they be a healer if they couldn’t even keep the ones they loved safe?

Otto was roused from their guilt by the sound of harsh coughing. They peeked their head into the past two rooms, fearing that one of them had been awakened by their footsteps. However, both of them were still out cold. Or out warm, in Severin’s case.

No, the coughing wasn’t coming from their rooms, Otto realized. It was coming from the third bedroom - the one that they and Godric shared.

The door creaked open as Otto shuffled inside, already knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Doc? Is tha’ you?”

Godric was sitting up in bed, quilt wrapped around him, his chest heaving with another hacking fit. His cheeks were flushed with effort and fever. Otto went to his bedside, their heart dropping into their stomach.

“Real nice ‘a this cold to leave the healer last, eh?” the warrior joked before laying back down with a quiet groan.

Otto pushed the hair off Godric’s neck and felt his lymph nodes, which were not only hot, but terribly swollen.

“I can chop those few pieces ‘a wood, an’ then I’ll-”

“You are not getting out of this bed,” Otto said sternly. Then, with a kinder tone, “I know you want to finish your work, but you are very sick. You shouldn’t be out in the snow.”

“But how-”

“I will take care of it, cariño. Just rest.”

Godric opened his mouth to say something else, but just coughed and covered himself up with his quilt.

“Take care of yerself, doc,” he said before Otto went to check on the others. “There isn’t anythin’ I can’t do after I’m back on m’feet.”

***************

Between taking care of three sick creatures and the final preparations, Otto ran themselves ragged over the next few days. None of their friends were particularly hard to take care of - especially after Severin’s fever broke - but the heaviness of their heart continued to weigh upon them.

With no other options, they threw themselves into work.

If they chopped enough wood for an extra week, they chopped enough wood for two extra weeks. The larder was more than full. Their fingers and hands and back and everything else was sore, but they couldn’t stop for long without feeling their guilt gnaw away at them.

One frigid morning, Otto had taken to the axe, splitting wood and putting them in the shed to keep them dry. They had run out of pre-cut trunks a long time ago, so they started cutting sticks in half for kindling. Out of the corner of their eye, mid-swing, they saw a figure marching through the snow - lifting their foot high before stomping it down again with a crunch.

After a few minutes, Otto could finally see a pair of long ears fluttering in the cold wind.

“Barlow!”

The sprite grinned as he approached Otto, holding up a steaming container of something in his mittened hands.

“I got soup!” he called out, trying to move faster in the deep snow. “Godric felt a lot better today, so he wanted to try somethin’ new. It’s real good! Even Severin ate a whole bowl of it, so you know it’s gotta be great.”

Barlow sat next to the chopping block, and patted a mound of snow next to him. Otto sat down, wincing as their sore muscles twinged.

“Godric says we’re all packed up for winter,” Barlow continued as he handed Otto the food. “And we’ll even have stuff to eat in the spring, too.”

Otto didn’t answer, but tucked into the soup, not even blowing it off before putting the spoon in their mouth. Barlow thought for a little bit, then spoke again.

“Doc, Godric told me that we got more than enough food and wood to last through the winter. If you wanna come inside, we’ve got a checker game goin’…”

Otto didn’t respond, but they had started to shiver from the cold. Barlow took of his coat and draped it around Otto’s shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get back. Everybody’s waitin’ for us.”

Barlow took Otto by the hand and pulled them up, then led them back towards the cottage. Otto trailed behind like a quivering lamb, both exhausted and numb. They couldn’t think of much else than putting one foot in front of the other.

When the pair finally got back to the cottage, a warm, cozy scene awaited them. Severin was on the couch, doing needlepoint with half-open eyes and content look on his face. Godric was above the stove, stirring a pot and putting one seasoning or another into it. The fire was blazing in a lovely orange hue that painted the scene with a beautiful glow.

While Barlow went right inside and was greeted by the others, Otto stood in the doorway, weary eyes closed, soaking up the light and warmth as much as they could.

“Doctor?”

Severin was up now, his quiet wisdom regained. Before Otto could answer, the sorcerer started to remove their soaked outer layers with quick fingers.

“If Barlow didn’t bring you here,” Severin said, “you would have worked yourself to a frozen skeleton.”

Otto suddenly jerked his head to the side.

“het’TCH! TCH! TCH’UH!”

“Many blessings, doctor.”

Severin smiled and tilted his head.

“Many, many blessings.”

Otto sniffled, rubbing their nose with stiff fingers.

“Nngh…gracias. Just a little…heh…htch’CHU!”

“Aye, I don’ like tha’ sound of that,” Godric rumbled from the kitchen, turning his head to see the sickly healer.

Otto waved their hand. “Just a li-hih-ttle sdiffle…”

“One that is long overdue, I think,” Severin said, putting the last of their wet things away.

Otto was ushered in front of the fire, still at the mercy of his nose. With each sneeze came a chorus of blessings and, if need be, another handkerchief.

“That’s a real nasty cold, huh?” Barlow commented after a particularly forceful fit. “Even I didn’t sneeze that much.”

As the day came to a close, the group all gathered on the couch, listening to the wind howling outside and treating themselves to Godric’s famous roast and sweet apple tea. Otto didn’t eat very much, but the hot tea soothed their sore throat.

“Tank you for taking such good care of be,” Otto snuffled.

Godric chuckled. “Ya care so much about us, doc. It only makes sense that we’s care an awful lot about you, ‘specially when ya aren’t feelin’ well.”

“And after you tended so well to us, may I add,” Severin said, leaning his head back.

“Yeah!” Barlow agreed, not exactly as good with words as the others, but still just as thankful.

Otto, overcome, buried their face in Godric’s side and began to cry, letting out everything that they had felt in the past few days. They wanted to stop, they wanted to explain, but it was lost in desperate sobs and hiccuping. Godric held them closer to him while the others offered quiet support until the doctor quieted.

“There ya go,” Godric said, putting a large hand on Otto’s head. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Filled with comfort and warm food, Otto quickly dozed off, and the others weren’t far behind. The only sounds were the falling of fresh snow, the crackling of the fireplace, and the snores of deep, contented sleep.

And, as winter finally settled into Harbinger Woods, they all settled down for their long winter’s rest.

******************

Not only do I want to dedicate this to @perfectpaperbluebirds , who gave me the prompt, but also @sneezytomatosquish , who has been feeling emotionally and physically under the weather lately. That may have changed by the time this fic is finished, but I shall gift it to you anyway. You are one of my favorite creators, but I want to create something for you for a change. You deserve it.

Get well soon!

[therenlover]

Heartsick (A James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again

Tags: Fluff, Sickfic, Cuddling, Marriage Proposal

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Language, Potentially Triggering Mentions of the Reader Being Ill for a Long Time/Almost Dying of an Unnamed Illness, Planning Your Own Death

Word Count: 3700~

This was crossposted to my AO3 under the same title!

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

James Patrick March considered himself a fairly patient man. He had to be, in his line of work. Some things didn’t deserve his patience, like lazy workers or angry hotel guests, but when it came to things that did matter, he was willing to go to extremes. Murder, for example, deserved his patience. Once upon a time, the Countess did too. Yes, patience was a rare virtue Mr. March had possessed all his life.

When it came to you, though, he found his patience running short.

You had been a revelation all your own when you first walked through the doors of the Hotel Cortez with not even a suitcase to your name, radiating purity with every shallow breath. James had been excited to find you in some dark corner of the hotel and rip the life from your body. That is until you found his little nook at the Blue Parrot Lounge and seduced him with your charming personality and sweet smile. From that moment on the Countess didn’t matter anymore. The whole world was just him, you, and all of the deliciously naughty ways he wanted to debauch you.

James had insisted on moving you into your own suite on the seventh floor that very night, just a few short hallways away from his own, and given every luxury he could offer. He was nothing if not a gentleman. It just wouldn’t be right to move the one he intended to court directly into his bedroom, especially while he was still married to his previous wide. Despite the distance, things between the two of you went swimmingly. Even the murder, which James initially worried could drive you apart, was now a delightful shared activity when you chose to grace him with your presence during a kill.

That’s where the problems started.

Mr. March was a man stuck in his own time. That’s why, after 5 splendid years with you at his side, you still weren’t moved into room 78. This also meant your suite was a place he wouldn’t enter unless he was invited. Sure, you had a healthy sex life, but the Countess still had the March family engagement ring tucked away somewhere. He wouldn’t move you into his quarters or impose himself on yours until the two of you were at the very least engaged. The plans for his and the Countess’ divorce were moving, albeit slowly, when you stopped opening the door for James.

The first day he thought perhaps you were simply elsewhere, but after a week of nothing, he began to get angry. It was one thing to deny him your company, but to ignore him while he made a fool of himself banging on your door? That was a punishable offense in the March family playbook. So, he decided if you wanted to play hard to get, he would too. In his mind, James could practically envision you rushing back into his arms once you got over whatever was souring your mood. It wouldn’t be long until the whole nasty affair was behind the both of you once and for all, right?

Wrong.

A month since he last dined with you, James sat at his table in the Blue Parrot lounge alone nursing the remains of his 4th glass of scotch.

Liz was slow to walk out from her place behind the bar. “You want another?” she asked, holding out a crystal decanter, “or should I fish out the absinthe fountain a little early this year,”

“No, no I do believe I’ve had quite enough. Besides, it’s not as if I can actually get drunk anymore,” he huffed. Whether it was the drinks or his growing rage, Mr. March found his collar feeling a bit tighter. He reached up to pull at his cravat but paused when thinking about the ghastly wound it hid. In the end, he let his hand return to its place on his glass.

“Suit yourself,” Liz quickly returned the decanter to its place and began polishing glasses.

Somewhere in the distance, Iris picked up a phone and began to take an order for room service. James had an epiphany.

“Liz!” he shouted, getting her attention, “has Y/N been ordering much room service lately?”

Liz shrugged. “Only once a day for the past month. Why do you ask?”

“I find myself in a bit of a predicament. You see, Y/N began ignoring me about a month ago. I’ve been giving her a taste of her own medicine for quite some time now, and yet she has made no attempts to seek me out. Do you think, perhaps, there could be something wrong?”

The energy in the room began to still.

“Wait, Y/N hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

The dirty glasses were abandoned as Liz let out a humorless laugh.

“Damn you, woman!” James rose with a shout, slamming his glass down on the table, “what is she hiding!?”

“She’s sick,”

James’ heart would have stopped if it were still beating. He sat down again, bewildered. “What?”

“She’s sick. Fever, puking, tremors; the whole shebang,” As she spoke, Liz came back to the table and sat down on the plush booth across from him.

“But it’s been a month! Influenza shouldn’t last that long…”

“Well, it’s definitely not the flu, I can tell you that. Last time I brought down her dinner she nearly choked on her toast. She was so weak that I had to sit there feeding her soup because she couldn’t lift up the spoon long enough to feed herself,”

It was as if James’ whole world had come collapsing down on him all at once. Mortified, he let his head drop into his hands. “Why didn’t she inform me? Am I that pathetic a lover that she would rather suffer in silence than tell me she was ill?”

“Well, to her credit, you don’t exactly look like the most comforting type. When did she move in again?”

“Almost five years ago, it’ll be the anniversary of her first entering the Cortez on the 20th,”

“And how many times in the past five years have you, I don’t know, cuddled with Y/N,”

“You insolent-”

Liz lifted her arms, offering up a white flag. “I’m just asking a question,”

James opened his mouth to offer up a rebuttal but found he had no way to defend himself.

It was true that his relationship with Y/N tended to fluctuate between chaste and lecherous at the drop of a hat. Once they had made love, it was the only habit for him to leave her in bed and return to whatever was keeping him busy at the moment. Post-coital intimacy was simply something he had never experienced or needed. Unfortunately, seeing that the only time he spent with Y/N outside of their trysts were formal meetings or dinners, there had been no time for gentility or softness between just the two of them. If ghosts could blanch, he would have.

Noticing his sudden shift in mood, Liz rose, backing off. “Now, usually I like to stay out of your business, but because your little relationship makes Y/N happy I’ll give you some advice. Go down to the kitchen, have Ms. Evers heat some broth, and give Y/N her dinner personally, maybe even give her some extra attention as a little treat. That should fix the bulk of your issues. Got it?”

He was never one to take orders, but surprisingly James nodded. He stood quickly, smoothing his suit. “Thank you for your advice, Ms. Taylor, but I must depart. My paramour needs me,”

She nodded. “Any time,” James began to hurry down the stairs, but suddenly Liz shouted. “Wait a second,”

James paused. “Yes?”

“Only the living get sick, Mr. March. Maybe, after five years, it’s time for Y/N to extend her stay at the Cortez... permanently. Just something to think about,”

He gave her a sharp nod before disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen. 15 minutes later he was waiting outside your door with a rolling cart in hard. He had already been stalling there for 5 minutes when he finally, with a deep, steadying breath, unlocked the door.

The room was dark and silent, almost like a tomb.

Your voice rang out like a bell as James pushed the cart forward. “Iris?” you called weakly, “is that you?”

“No, darling,” he responded, closing the door behind him. Slowly, he bent down at turned on a small lamp. “You won’t need Iris to bring you your dinner any longer,”

“James,” You whispered, half reverent and half shocked.

He was far too taken aback by the severity of your condition to form an immediate response.

You were curled up in bed, folded in on yourself as you wheezed for breath. As Liz had mentioned your body was weak and wracked with near-constant tremors while you tried your best to prop yourself up on the headboard. James had to abandon the cart with your dinner on it in favor of rushing over and helping you sit up. As he took in your gaunt face, his heart broke.

Your soft voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“Am I dead?”

James shook his head. “No my love, not yet,”

Tears began to spill from your eyes. “I thought you’d left me, James. I thought I was going to have to rot in this awful, dark room for eternity, that maybe ‘cause I died while I was sick my ghost was too damn weak to get up,” As you spoke, you tried to grip the back of his suit, but found you were far too weak to actually hold the fabric. Your inability to even do the simplest of tasks only made you cry harder.

Mr. March was quick to pull out his handkerchief and wipe your eyes. “Oh, my dearest, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but none of that matters now. I cannot apologize enough for my abhorrent behavior as of late,”

“Will you stay?” your words were laced with desperation, “just for a little bit?”

“Of course, my dearest. I think you’ll find it very difficult to get rid of me from now on. Besides, I couldn’t leave my beloved paramour without doing what it is that I set out to do,”

“Which is?”

James stood and quickly returned with the room service cart. As he removed the silver tray-topper, you found he had brought you a bowl of soup, a small plate of crackers, and a tall glass of ice water.

“I intend to make sure you are well-fed and taken care of,”

“James, you don’t-” you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“Nonsense! There is, unfortunately, no way to sugar coat this, but I will try my best,” he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you, “I have neglected you, darling, not just for the past month when I found my pride and ego keeping me away from you, but also for the past five years. I ignored your needs out of a false sense of propriety by bending to rules that are long dead and considered inconsequential. For that, I fear I may never forgive myself. Things will be different from now on, though. I hope to win back your heart properly now that I have realized the severity of my mistakes. Would you…” he paused, gulping, “would you be willing to humor me?”

You offered him a soft smile. “Oh, my beloved Mr. March, there’s no need. My heart has always been yours,”

Your words soothed him, and he offered you one of his debonair grins, the kind where his little mustache scrunched before his lips parted that never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Now where were we!” he exclaimed.

��Dinner,” you responded.

“Ah, yes! Soup!” He was quick to get a spoonful of the warm broth and bring it to your lips. “You needn’t worry, my sweetling, I watched Ms. Evers prepare this herself. Nothing but the best for you,”

It was easy to accept the spoon into your mouth. Something inside of you knew that James would be taking care of you from now on.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence, but you didn’t mind, far too tired to take part in any meaningful conversation. Instead, you simply enjoyed the attention. James had never been shy about his affection, but that affection always tended to come in the form of gifts or sex instead of close, intimate touch. It hadn’t bothered you enough to tell him. You always just assumed he didn’t enjoy that kind of love. Now that you’d had a taste, though, of his gentle yet constant affection, you knew you could never get enough.

Too soon the bowl was empty.

James stood, returning to the door with the cart as you relaxed and rolled onto your side. “When will you be back?”

He chuckled, opening the door. “Did you think you could be rid of me so soon, darling?” The cart was quickly pushed out into the hallway as James turned back towards you.

Your face flushed. “I just assumed…”

“Assumptions, assumptions,” he tutted, “It hurts that you have such little faith in me, but I admit I haven’t given you much reason to. As I said, things will be different now,” James perched himself on the edge of the bed with a smile as he untied his shoes and slipped them off.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes, darling, so I can join you in bed,”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been imagining the first time James would actually stay in your bed to cuddle since the beginning of your relationship, but it had been years since you had given any thought to that silly fantasy. Could it really be happening?

Apparently, your surprise was evident on your face because Mr. March paused once both his shoes were settled neatly on the floor. “Is something wrong, my dearest?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all,” you were quick to explain, “we’ve just never done this before,”

James smirked like a predator who had just found his prey. “Such an innocent gesture from such a naughty little minx. I don’t recall you being so… flustered the night we met when I took you up to my suite and-”

“James!”

“Alright! Alright, my love, no more vulgarity from me until you’re fully healed and back on your feet. Well, hypothetically on your feet,” he emphasized his words with a dirty wink. Then he crawled into bed beside you as if he belonged there, scootching over until he was resting pressed against your side. You slotted into place, with your face resting in his neck and your leg thrown haphazardly across his hips as if you were made to fit his body. Holding James was like coming home.

You let out a soft, pleased sound at just how good it felt to be held.

James took this as positive feedback. As he settled in, he began running his fingers through your bedhead, combing through the loosest of the knots. Sensing something strange, he paused to put his hand on your forehead. It was uncomfortably hot. “You’re still feverish. Do you need anything? A cold compress? A wet washcloth? Some water?”

It was funny to hear him fussing over you, but it also warmed the deepest parts of your heart.

You made a negative huff against his neck. “No! You’d better not move. Your skin feels too good. It’s nice… cold. The only thing I could possibly want right now is for you to dim the lights and take your damn shirt off so you can cool more of me off,”

“I would, darling, believe me, but there’s just the small issue of the wound on my neck,”

“James,” you glared up at him, “I have literally ripped a dying man’s dick off in front of you. We have dinner with Jeffery Dahmer on your birthday every year, where I have to eat my salad as he zombifies whatever poor sap wandered into Sally’s clutches across the table. Hell, just a few months ago we fucked in that bathtub filled with some businessman’s blood. Your neck is just another part of you, James, it doesn’t bother me. Shirt. Off.”

“Have I ever told you that I adore when you take charge?”

You grinned as he undid his cravat and the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Once or twice,” The thrill only lasted a moment, though, because before he finished unbuttoning his shirt he pulled away from your arms and got off the bed. A high-pitched whine escaped from your lips. “I thought you said you were staying?”

“I may be a ghost, dear heart, but my clothes can’t just disappear,” Always one for the dramatics, he shed his shirt and suit jacket to the floor with gusto. The sight of his bare torso made your heart beat faster. You had to remind yourself that you were sick and it would probably kill you to go for even a gentle round with Mr. March. Ah, but what a way to die…

James dimmed the lamp before returning, undoing his pants, and stripping down to his boxers. “Is this better for you darling?”

You nodded and reached your trembling arms out to your lover. “Much. Now come back to bed. You have five years’ worth of cuddling to make up for Mr. March, and I don’t intend on letting you wheedle your way out of even a second of it,”

He gave you a gentle smile as he found his way beneath the covers again. “I wouldn’t dream of it,”

Your face quickly found its way back into the crook of James’ neck. It was inhumanly cool, easing the constant burn of your fever and soothing your sore skin. The slit across his throat truly didn’t bother you. As you said, it was just another part of him for you to love, nothing more than a cosmetic imperfection.

Nuzzling closer, you took a deep inhale of his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was the cologne he wore at the time of his death or even just what he naturally smelled like, but his pulse point radiated notes of sage and bergamot. God, how you loved him.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment with only the sound of your ragged breathing breaking through the air, but something urged you to speak your mind.

“You know, James, when you walked into my room tonight I assumed you were here to kill me,”

He chuckled. “I can’t say I didn’t think about it, my pearl,”

“Of course you did…” you went silent for a moment, “I wouldn’t have minded. This sickness is hell. I’m wasting away by the day and the pain never stops. I don’t mind dying, not when it means I get to spend the rest of time here in the hotel with you, but I don’t want to go out like somebody normal. My death needs to be special… I want to be the crowning glory of your murders, the most fantastic piece of art you’ve ever created,”

Pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your hair, James sighed. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but the moment I thought of you, wasting away in the darkness and succumbing to some common germ, I knew I couldn’t kill you. Not yet. I refuse to have my bride accompany me through eternity bearing a constant reminder of my failure,”

Your breath hitched. “Bride?”

Slowly, his hand made its way to your throat. There was no threat in it, he wasn’t using even an ounce of pressure. It was more of a gentle reminder of his presence; a physical conduit of his passion.

“Yes, bride. I don’t mind if you can only become Mrs. March posthumously, though I would prefer to wed you alive and enjoy your last moments of warmth in the throes of carnal delight on our wedding bed, it all depends on where your illness takes you next. Until then I will be glued to your side. No more harm will come to you. I shall nurse you back to health with my own hand so that you glow with life long after your death. Yes, Y/N, your death will come, but not until I have done my best to atone for my mistakes in your life,”

“Was that a proposal?” You gazed up at James with wide, misty eyes.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose it was, and a poor one at that! To think I stalled for years in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to present you with my mother’s ring only to pop the question in bed with no ring in sight. I do hope you’ll say yes. I’d be rather crushed if you rejected me after all this time,”

You nodded, small tears escaping as you pressed your face into his soft skin. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I would’ve married you if you were the poorest man in the world and proposed with a ring-pop,”

“Then it’s settled. You shall be my wife as soon as you are well enough for me to fuck you again! I quite hate that Will Drake, but I believe he’s our best, quickest option if we wish to get you a dress commissioned. I have a few ideas drawn up already waiting in my office… perhaps I should call Ms. Evers and have her take them to him,”

“Shhhh,” you smiled into his neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “we can figure out the details later. For right now, though, your fiancée is sick and she needs some TLC. What are you gonna do about it, Mr. March,”

He growled. “Well, I suppose ravishing you is off the table. Hmmm... what to do to my darling girl to make her feel better?” With a gentle nudge, he tilted your head up and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a start,”

-------

a/n: I hope you liked it! I’m really leaning towards writing a second part of this where the reader actually dies, so let me know if you’re interested. Also, my requests are open if you want to see any of Evan’s other characters! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thank you <3

[five-rivers]

Loved chapter 4

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 3: Portal, even though the connection is sort of tenuous.

.

Bad things happened when Vlad came to Amity Park. For that matter, bad things happened wherever Vlad was. It was part of what made Vlad Vlad. Some part of his otherness, some twist of the shadow-fabric he was made of that left rot and ruin wherever his hem brushed. Of course, Vlad was never affected by this misfortune. In fact, he seemed to suck the luck out of everyone around him. Like a vampire.

Along with sanity. But that was a given for the others, even partial others, like Vlad. Or Danny.

But Vlad didn’t even try to hide or ameliorate the effects he had on people, didn’t try to keep them safe, to make their lives shine like the precious lights they were.

(Danny drummed his fingers on his chest and wondered, if, perhaps, it would feel less empty if Clockwork let him become a jewel box.)

But that was the way Vlad was, and Danny felt him enter Amity Park like nails on a chalkboard. His skin started to itch. His teeth hurt. Pressure pulsed in his head like waves of heat coming off asphalt. Being human, being real, was too tight, too heavy. It would be so easy to slip into the cool waters of the Dream and cut through them to wherever Vlad was.

No. He couldn’t. As shown time and time again, that would just exacerbate things. No matter what Vlad did, it would be worse if they fought, especially if there was anyone there to see it. Like what had happened with Jazz…

Danny was beyond lucky he’d been able to snap her out of whatever Vlad had done to her, but she still was quite right. The Vultures had actually apologized on Vlad’s behalf, after that.

(And wasn’t that strange, standing in the Dream on ground covered by bones and feathers, the Vultures on a dead tree, speaking as one. A thing of terror, apologizing for their ward. For pain suffered through Love. For lines crossed.)

Still. He had better… supervise Vlad, for a lack of a better word. Make sure he wasn’t getting up to anything. He’d go as a human – as himself.

He sighed and splayed his hands out on the table.

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, who had been making a complex sigil out of her fries and ketchup.

“Vlad’s in town,” said Danny. “I—”

The doors to the Nasty Burger were thrown open with a bang as Jazz came running in. She ran halfway through the store, to weak protests from the employee behind the counter, and skidded to a stop in front of their table.

“Vlad’s here,” he said.

“You saw him?” asked Danny, concerned. “Did he try—”

“No,” said Jazz. “I can just—It’s like he’s under my skin, and I—” She made a sound of frustration and gripped both sides of her head with clawed hands.

“Hey,” said Danny, gently, grasping her wrists. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, breathing deeply. “Alright. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“It’s okay,” said Danny. He looked back to his friends. “Anyway, I’m going to go see what he wants, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Sam, standing.

“Me too,” said Tucker. “Sort of. Halfway.”

“You really shouldn’t,” said Danny. “You know what happens when we get together.”

“Which is why we want to back you up,” said Sam. “As long as he stays physical, there’s stuff we can do.”

Unless Danny was prepared to do something incredibly inadvisable, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her. “Okay,” he said. “Just… be careful. If it looks like it’s going to turn into a fight, you need to leave.” He didn’t want them to get anymore spiritually messed up than they already were.

“We know, we know, you give us the spiel every time,” said Sam.

Yes, and Sam ignored it every other time. Danny shook his head. “Alright, let’s—”

Danny was promptly interrupted yet again, this time by his parents rushing in wearing… He could loosely call them clothes.

“It’s retro night, baby!” shouted Jack.

It was not retro night. There was no such thing as retro night at the Nasty Burger.

“I’ll take care of them,” said Jazz.

“Thanks,” muttered Danny, sliding out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go out the back.”

The alley behind the Nasty Burger was fetid in a way that made Danny’s shadow lift from the pavement and float on the air. Something that inhabited rats skittered in the corners at Danny’s presence and ran for a storm drain. He breathed shallowly.

“Which way?” prompted Tucker.

“He’s actually coming this way,” said Danny, frowning, debating facing him in this alley, just to see the disgust that would surely paint itself on Vlad’s face, paper-thin mask that it was.

Reality rippled, the surface tension that kept the Dream from bleeding in snapping. A miasma rose from the ground. Vlad stumbled into the alley, clutching at his face, which was melting. No, transforming. No, stretching. No, layering over itself a in dozen sickening ways, all the masks Vlad wore flickering over whatever truth he had all at once.

“Help me,” he grated. His words felt sick, diseased.

“Guys,” said Danny, fighting back the urge to vomit, “run.”

“No!” shrieked Vlad. “Help me!”

And sanity fractured like glass.

.

Whatever Danny’s parents had done to stabilize Vlad had worked, to a degree. It hadn’t fixed the underlying problem, which Danny could still feel slinking through the Dream. It also didn’t fix whatever he’d done to Sam and Tucker, although it had kept it from progressing further.

Danny took a slow, angry breath and ran a mental count of the lives stored inside his chest. They were there, all of them. Whatever happened to Sam and Tucker, they wouldn’t die.

But Danny knew there were fates worse than death.

His fingernails left half moon impressions on his palms as he clenched his fists. The Dream roiled with his fury, the force of it enough to keep Vlad’s diseased thoughts away.

“Daniel,” croaked Vlad. “Cure me.”

“That’s what Mom and Dad are trying to do.”

“Find a cure for me,” said Vlad, as if he hadn’t heard Danny at all, “and you’ll find a cure for your precious little friends.”

Danny stilled. “You did this on purpose.”

Vlad laughed. “Of course, I did, my dear boy. What value is a simple human mind compared to those such as we?”

Any rage Danny had felt up to this moment paled in comparison. The mirror over the sink cracked down the middle, never to show a true physical reflection again. He hated—

A concerned tug at Danny’s throat jolted him from his thoughts. Clockwork. Clockwork would know what to do. He turned, and without a second glance at Vlad, strode bodily into the Dream.

.

It took Danny even less time than usual to find Clockwork, and, when he did, he immediately found himself at Clockwork’s center, deep within the castle that was his metaphor. Dozens of Chains were fixed to Danny’s collar, each of them completely taut, holding him perfectly immobile, the embrace of a relieved but panicking parent. Clockwork’s emotions, too vast for Danny to fully comprehend, were transmitted directly through those chains, microscopic vibrations raising gooseflesh on Danny’s skin. A wordless noise both distressed and pleased wound its way from Danny’s throat, continuing to echo long after he’d run out of the breath to maintain it.

Clockwork’s avatar cupped Danny’s face in its hands, long fingers almost completely encircling his head. There was more of Clockwork in it that there usually was.

“Clockwork…?” asked Danny, weakly, confused and overwhelmed by the sudden flood of affection.

Poor little one, whispered the avatar, this is what happens when matters are not properly attended to. The Vultures should know better, should take care of him properly… It pressed its forehead to Danny’s, startling a squeak from him.

Danny, reflexively, brought his hands up to clutch at the avatar’s robes.

My poor child. What are they thinking, letting him run around so ill, so that he might infect other children?

Clockwork saw Vlad as a child, too. Not surprising, considering how ancient Clockwork must be, but good to know.

That emotion! It was only a shadow, and even so-!

“Emotion?”

Hatred, hissed Clockwork’s avatar.

The collar around Danny’s neck constricted, a tighter, more Loving, more comforting, hug. Danny gasped, although breathing here was psychological rather than physiological. The cloth of the avatar’s robes began to wind up Danny’s arms.

Even the pale, human shadow of it is not something you should experience, my child.

Danny didn’t like being that angry, but—

Even the concept of it is too much, too heavy. You should not have to bear it. I should not have overlooked it. The avatar’s hands moved to the back of Danny’s head, pressing his face against its shoulder. It must hurt you so,murmured the avatar, carding fingers through Danny’s hair. Fear not. I will excise it. All of it, even the idea of it shall not touch you, shall not sully your thoughts.

The avatar stepped away.

“Wait!” shouted Danny, panicking.

Not being able to hate? Danny had mixed feelings about that, but he doubted he’d be able to talk Clockwork out of it, not with how damaging Hate could be. In the end, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss. Not being able to understand that it existed? Not being aware of hate at all? Being unable to understand that, sometimes, people would go out of their way to hurt one another?

That was dangerous. That would render him unable to even begin to comprehend vast swathes of human history and humanity.

“If I don’t know what it is,” said Danny, “if I don’t know that it exists, how can I protect myself against it?”

A gust of wind blew through Clockwork’s sepulchral hall like the sigh of a giant. It is my duty to protect you, my child.

The sheer possessiveness of the words lingered on Danny’s skin. He wanted to lean into them but held his imaginary breath.

But very well.

Danny let himself relax, slightly, even as the avatar walked to somewhere he couldn’t see, its silent footsteps giving him no clue as to where it was. With only the constant, regular hum and tick of Clockwork’s gears to stimulate him, it was hard for Danny to stay vigilant. He found himself drifting, his thoughts wandering.

Did his hatred of Vlad cause him pain, as Clockwork said? What was it going to be like, to not be able to hate at all, rather than just not being able to Hate? Would he still be angry at Vlad? He hoped so. The man deserved it.

Two points of frigid cold touched the back of his head, contracted into a single point, and pulled. Danny felt something within him come free, and he sagged as much as the chains would allow him.

The avatar walked back into view, and Danny recoiled from the thing he was carrying, clasped in a long, silver pair of tweezers. “Is that,” started Danny, before he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Was that in me?”

Yes, said Clockwork’s avatar, lowering it into a small, jeweled box. Danny felt relieved as soon as the lid closed on it and he was no longer forced to look at it. At the same time… Fear not, said the avatar. I could never destroy something of you. It will be remade into something more useful.

Danny nodded as much as he could and shuddered. He felt… dirty. Unclean. Just remembering what he’d felt, what he’d thought… It left a deep sense of wrongness.

Come, said Clockwork. I have just the thing for that. You are due for a bath. A cleansing, inside and out.

The metaphor of the chains fell away, leaving just the one, usual, slack one. Danny knew Clockwork could call them back at any time, that, in truth, they had not gone anywhere at all.

“What about Vlad?” he asked, twisting his hands around the hem of his shirt. “And my friends? Can you help them? Please.”

He felt Clockwork examine him appraisingly.

Perhaps the bath can wait for another day.

.

The mirror was a portal, tall and wide as a door, glassy surface gleaming with otherworldly light. The edges were crimped, filigreed, flared. Beyond the reflection, Danny could just make out the suggestion of movement.

It is not real, said the avatar, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, but a might-have-been.

“But I can find a way to fix things in there?”

The avatar did not answer. A prickling feeling rose up inside Danny, settling in his stomach. Somehow, this felt similar to when he’d eaten the mirror with the bad future.

It is,confirmed the avatar, briefly nuzzling Danny.

“Why?” asked Danny, just a little horrified.

Is it not satisfying to complete two tasks at once? I told you, back then, that our next task would be to remove those presents that seek to exclude you.

Danny didn’t understand.

You will. Clockwork’s avatar paused, as if thinking. This is what the Vultures should have done for young Vladimir, although they would have accomplished it differently.

“Oh,” said Danny, trying to wrap his head around that.

Clockwork’s avatar nudged him forward. Follow the chain when you are ready to come home.

.

Danny wasn’t connected to anyone in this might-have-been world. It was odd, watching every eye slide off him as if he wasn’t even there. If he wanted to interact with someone directly, he’d have to put a lot of force of will into it.

It was strange. Other than that, everything here seemed perfectly real. Not imaginary at all. The sun shone. People spoke to one another. The grass crunched under his feet.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison lay before him in all its questionable glory.

He’d have to find Vlad and his parents. They had rented a small lab space for their experiments with the Dream and research into the others.

Normally, he’d follow his connection to them to find them, or the disturbance Vlad made in the dream, but neither of those things existed, now. Not yet. Danny didn’t exist yet.

He could just wander, try to seek out questionable lab space, but the university’s campus was large. Normally, he’d ask for directions, but…

Yeah, the no one being able to see or hear him thing really didn’t allow for that.

But there was one other thing he could try to do, one other thing he could try to sense. Their experiments. They should send waves across and through the Dream.

He let his eyes drift closed and walked blind across campus. When he opened them, he was in a lab, watching his parents and Vlad working on a kind of magic circle, inscribed with runes.

A portal, intended to let humans directly access the Dream. A portal that had created Vlad, all because he leaned too close, watched too closely, seen too much, became something else, changed.

Something like anger stirred under his skin. After this, his parents had continued to experiment, continued to try to reach the Dream, to create a weapon against the others, and in doing so both doomed Danny himself and Amity Park by making what amounted to a highway for the others to come to the real world.

But they hadn’t intended to do that, he knew. They’d been trying as best as they could to fix things. Had been trying to defend the world the best they knew, portal or no portal. And speaking of the portal… If others could damage human sanity, if Danny, small and weak and almost-human as he was, could damage human sanity, then how much more could a direct link to the Dream do? Discounting, of course, that normal dreams could lead to the Dream… That connection was more tenuous. Filtered.

His anger was a distraction from what was really bothering him.

These people, they looked like his parents. They were his parents. But… they weren’t. There was no attachment there. Nothing. It was like looking at empty shells. No Love.

It was distressing.

He watched, waiting, making note of the symbols and the placement of the ritual objects and the technological enhancements. There had to be something here that would help explain why Vlad was having such a hard time, while Danny had transitioned to his present existence without much problem.

He leaned over his not-mother’s calculations, then his not-father’s, made note of the differences. Looked at the fire, the knife, and the carved cylinders. Some of them didn’t feel quite right. One of them had been nudged out of alignment by a soda can put down by not-Jack, shifting the circle, making it bigger. Could that be something?

Vlad leaned over to examine the circle, and, at the same time, not-Jack pushed a button on the tape player, which started chanting. Danny could feel the hole boring into reality before the first syllable was finished. They’d made the portal both too well and too poorly.

Danny reached for Vlad and pulled him back, out of the way of the opening portal.

.

Danny may have made a mistake.

He’d saved Vlad from becoming other. In doing so, he’d changed things, altered this entire make-believe world. The way the story was progressing was no longer the same as his own. Which meant that it might be useless for collecting clues for fixing Vlad, Sam, and Tucker. Mostly Sam and Tucker.

(He’d help Vlad if it wouldn’t hurt his friends, he didn’t hate the man, not anymore, didn’t desire his suffering. But his friends were, of course, his main concern.)

But he couldn’t just leave. He’d made note of all the flaws in the portal, but that wasn’t in any way conclusive, wasn’t a guarantee.

And, in the meantime, his not-parents and not-Vlad had continued working on the portal, which they hadn’t shut down, unlike in the proper timeline. Or had it been disrupted by Vlad? He didn’t remember the exact sequence of events. His parents had never been clear.

But the portal was on, it was working, and it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The portal was in a class of things that should-not-be.

Just like Danny, in this world. He… With the portal, and the way things were going, he shouldn’t exist here, the butterfly effect would keep him from being born, and he was becoming painfully aware of that fact. Literally painfully. It was starting to hurt, being here, a throb in the back of his head.

Or was that the portal?

Either way…

(He couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was breaking things just by being here. Everything was going wrong. So many little accidents.)

(Or was that the portal?)

He kept watching.

It had been… a while, now. It was easy to lose track of time like this, with no one to talk to. Days? Maybe? He’d been drifting, which should have been troubling.

Maybe he should go back. Cut losses.

(Besides, it was disturbing watching his parents flirting with each other. And Vlad. Even if they weren’t really themselves.)

Then his parents wheeled in a… What was that? He walked closer. This was about the same size around as the pillars that had done this to him.

Danny would never forget those, after all.

Something hummed inside him, picking up a kind of resonance between the active portal and the pillar.

The ground fragmented beneath his feet.

Reality followed soon after.

.

He found himself nowhere with nothing. Only nowhere and nothing.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

What had he done? He’d, he’d destroyed a world, he’d—

There was a gentle, but insistent tug on his chain. He followed it home.

.

He clung to Clockwork’s avatar, gasping, as if he was the only real thing in the world. His emotions were too much, too great, uncontained and roiling. They battered him like a stormy sea.

It’s alright, it’s alright, comforted the avatar. It wasn’t real, and now it never will be. All those worlds where you would not be. All gone.

No. No. No. Horror buzzed in his brain. He couldn’t have destroyed so much.

Never were,continued the avatar, Clockwork apparently oblivious. All disproven. Paradox. You could not be and yet you were. You were in the places you were not. So, now you exist, in all these places, in everywhere that could be, and always will. It stroked Danny, brushing away tears. Only one more to go, until you never were not, my beloved child, until you always were mine, as you were meant to be.

Danny keened into the robes of Clockwork’s avatar, distraught. Wind ruffled his hair.

Considering the point in time in which you were placed, said the avatar, Vladimir will be well again.

Danny looked up, hopeful for the first time in hours.

Mostly. The underlying cause has been removed. You should bring the rest to your… progenitors. They are at least competent in this area.

Danny nodded vigorously and attempted to extract himself from the avatar’s grasp. He was unsuccessful, although the avatar did adjust its grip on him.

You have had a difficult day, it observed. It then presented Danny with a cookie.

Confused, Danny took it.

A gift, said the avatar, Clockwork having evidently returned to his normal laconic mode.

“What’s it made of?” asked Danny, suspicious.

Love. What else?

.

“How do you feel?” asked Danny.

“Weird,” said Sam. “But okay.”

“What was it like?”

Sam shrugged. “It was like…” She waved her hand. “Watching a thousand different movies of my life, but they were all wrong. Like if they were crappy biopics done fifty years after I died or something.”

“Speak for yourself,” grunted Tucker. “I just got a lot of sand. So, so much sand. And sun. Do I have a sunburn?”

“No?” said Danny. “You look fine.”

“Ugh, I forgot you were white. You don’t know what sunburns look like.”

“I’d argue,” said Sam, “but you’re not wrong.” She fell back against her pillows. “I just want to sleep.”

“Same,” said Tucker. “I never want to see the sun again.”

“We’ll make a goth of you yet,” joked Sam, tossing a pillow at him.

“Okay,” said Danny, backing away. “Should I get the lights?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Sleep well,” he said. He hoped they would.

(Because he would not.)

[ships4you]

flames & deception {zuko}

Request: Heyoo!! Can I request a zuko x reader where Zuko and y/n get into a fight, and Zuko accidentally burns y/n? But instead of y/n getting mad at Zuko, y/n forgives him, kinda like the scene where Zuko and Iroh reunite? Ty!! ❤️❤️❤️(It can be either headcanon, imagine, whatever you’re the most comfortable with!) (*´ω｀*)

Pairing: Zuko x Earth Kingdom!Reader

Prompt: After setting Appa free Zuko has a nasty fever that leaves him sick in bed for days on end. While the reader is watching over a sleeping Zuko he has a nightmare, causing him to accidentally hurt the reader.

I’m such a sucker for againsty Zuko😻

“You know I saw a wanted poster for the blue spirit the other day.”

Lee ignored your comment, continuing to pace around his apartment above Mushi’s tea shop.

“You do know what that means, right? If someone spots you they’ll send guards after you. Or even worse; the Dai Li.”

You’ve been dating Lee for about two months now. Even though you didn’t know much about his past, he seemed to be very open and comfortable with you. A couple weeks into the relationship he told you about his evening excursions as the ‘Blue Spirit’. It never bothered you, but after climbing through your window one night all bloody and cut up from a fight, you couldn’t help but worry about your boyfriend.

“Do you hear what I’m saying?!” you raised your voice, annoyed at his I-could-care-less attitude. “Yes.” he responded dryly, slipping his swords into its sheath. You sighed and marched up to him, placing your hands on his chest. “Lee…” you said rubbing your thumbs in circles against his black skin-tight suit, “I just want you to be safe… Please, isn’t there another way?” you reached up to brush his hair out of his face. Before you could reach the black locks he grabbed your wrist tightly.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He lowered your wrist back down to your side, “I have to do this.”

This made you furious. “Oh of course!” you seethed through your teeth, “Of course I wouldn’t understand! You know not everything can be fixed with this little ‘hero’ act you have going on. Am I just not supposed to worry about you anymore?!” you yelled at him.

“Yes (y/n)! You don’t know me! You don’t know the things I’ve been through, the shitty things I have done. Hell, the shitty things I am going to do! You only care because you think I am this wounded, helpless creature, but guess what? I’m. Not. I’ve been on my own for years now and I don’t need you telling what I can and can’t do. When will you get it. I. Don’t. Need. You.”

He was now merely inches away from your face, eyes filled with fire. You weren’t sure when exactly the lump in your throat appeared, but you could feel soft, subtle tears sting against your cheeks. “Well. The next time you’re covered in cuts and bleeding out, don’t come to me.” you said before walking out, slamming the door behind you.

***

Three days after your big fight you received a letter in the mail.

Dearest (y/n),

I am afraid Lee has fallen extremely ill. He has been under my constant care for days, yet cannot seem to break his fever. I know my nephew hurt you, he often speaks out of fear— lashing out at those closest to him. I sincerely apologize on his behalf.

I need to go across town to fetch medicine to hopefully help his temperature go down. Would you be willing to come and sit with him for an hour or two? You are more than welcome to decline. Either way please come by the shop for a cup of tea soon. Seeing your beautiful smile warms my heart.

With all my love,

Mushi

As angry as you were, you knew how much he loved his nephew. You could not stand to break his heart. So, the next day you swallowed your pride and walked into the tea shop with your head held high.

He greeted you with open arms, as if nothing had happened. “He has been asleep for days,” Mushi explained leading you up the stairs to the apartment. “He just needs someone near to refill his water and keep a damp cloth a top his head. He will occasionally become restless in his sleep and thrash around a bit,” he said with sad eyes, “I will be back as soon as possible. Thank you (y/n). Your act of kindness is a gift from the spirits.” Resting your palm against his arm you said, “Mushi, you know I would do anything for you.” He smiled gratefully, bowing before leaving the room.

He looked so peaceful for the first few minutes, despite the small beads of sweat you noticed dripping down his face and chest. You made sure to switch out the damp rag with a new, cool one and refilled the bucket with fresh water. As you were putting the bucket down you noticed a worried expression stretch across his face. Before you knew it he began writhing back and forth, “Lee?” you knelt down and reached out to wake him up.

Before you could reach him, he quickly sat up and hurled his arm in your direction. You quickly jumped out of the way, and that’s when you noticed it. Fire ripping past your body. Your body was far enough, but you left hand that had come up to instinctively block your face was grazed by a stray flame. You yelped and squatted down to the floor, cradling your hand.

“(y/n)?”

You opened your hand, a slash across your palm already fading into a bright red.

“(y/n)… Please tell me I didn’t do that.” His eyes began filling up with tears.

His eyes were fearful. Terrified of what he had just done. Then the pain started to hit you. Panicking you ran to the bathroom, latching the door behind you. Your mind racing as you submerged your hand underneath the cool faucet.

Lee was a firebender.

He pounded on the door, “(y/n) please let me help you”

Was he a spy?

“Shit! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me.” his voice cracked. It was obvious to tell he was crying.

No. Not a spy. Then why was a firebender in Ba Sing Se?

“don’t-hate-me, dont-hate-me, please just- fuck! I can’t lose you. I need you.”

“Is your name even Lee?” you felt your mouth move before you could think.

You heard him exhale through the sliding door. “No.”

You turned off the faucet, waiting for his explanation. “My name isn’t Lee. My real name is Zuko… Prince Zuko. My father- he. He is the Firelord. Two years ago he he burnt my face for speaking out against him.” he paused, “I was banished from the Fire Nation after that… My Uncle, Iroh and I have been on the run since I was 14. We came to Ba Sing Se to start over.”

You slid the door open. You were terrified to ask, but your heart needed to hear his answer “Have these last two months been one big lie? Is this… Us-” He stood in front of you eyes red from crying, his hair still damp with sweat. “No.” He said sternly, “Not you. Never with you.” His chest heaved as he spoke, “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I pushed you away. I am so sorry. I don’t deserve you.” he swiped his hand down his face, “I lied to you. I was stupid to let myself forget who I am, the kind of person I am. Being around you just made me feel… Normal. I was lost and confused and I used you. You have every right to hate me.”

“Zuko.” your lips testing the sound of his name. “I could never hate you.”

He sighed heavily. He walked up to you wrapping his arms around your middle, tucking his head into your neck. You curled your arms around his shoulders, embracing his head with your hand, stroking your fingers through his hair. You could feel his breath quicken, his tears damp against your clothes, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you.” your body tensed, “Please don’t leave me.” his voice whispered, muffled against your skin. Sliding your hands to his neck, you lifted his head from his chin. “I’m not going anywhere.” you reassured, hands now cupping the sides of his face, brushing the tears with your thumbs. “I love you too.”

He immediately pulled you into him, latching onto your lips. His hand slid up the length of your back, pressing your chest against his. You tilted your head downwards, resting your forehead against his. As he pulled away your hands fell to his chest. “Can I just say…” you sighed. He glance at you through his lashes, tightening his grip on your hip. “Yes. Anything.”

“I like your real name so much better than Lee.” you couldn’t help but giggle. He groaned throwing his head back, “Ugh, yea. My Uncle gave it to my as a joke. I got him back by calling him Mushi though.” You both shared a quick laugh.

“Yea I have to be honest, I had to hold myself back from moaning your name all those times. Lee is such an un-sexy name.” you joked, hooking your hands behind his back. He rolled his eyes jokingly, “I just told you I am the crowned Prince of the Fire Nation and that is what you take from it?!” You smiled giddily, “Mhmm, yup.”

“You are ridiculous.” He said before kissing you lightly. “Come on, I used to burn myself while training as a kid. I know a recipe to help it heal.” he said leading you to the kitchen.

***

Let me know if you guys want a part two, maybe a prequel or just more of this Earth Kingdom!Reader plot-line to carry throughout the storyline of the show. Maybe them reuniting on the outer walls with Iroh and the white Lotus or after the war is finished. Hope you guys liked this one <3

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