#my head and neck are super achy and I just wish I could curl up in bed and go to sleep cause I’m extremely fatigued and low energy

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[marvelousstevetony]

Hi! These prompts are from a while ago but I was just wondering if you could do

28. You’re so cute when you’re sick and needy.

47. Hiding sneezes

52. Did you just sneeze?

For stony? Like, maybe Steve and Tony are cuddling in bed with Steve cuddled into Tony’s chest, and steve keeps moving randomly. So Tony is wondering what’s going on and then figures out Steve is stifling sneezes into his chest and one comes out weird-ish? So maybe he blesses Steve and Steve gets really nervous because he’s been hiding his sneezes because he doesn’t want to move away from Tony... but Tony really doesn’t mind and finds it cute that Steve is so sneezy and that he feels safe/comfortable sneezing into him because he’s so tired he can’t get the energy to move away? Bonus: maybe Tony tells Steve to stop stifling and tells him he really doesn’t mind him sneezing into him? 😅😅😅

I’m sorry if that’s confusing and really specific. I just love the idea of Steve sneezing into Tony 😅. Feel free to tweak it as much as you want. Also, you don’t have to use all three prompts if you can’t figure out a way to.

Love your writing so much and thank you for the awesome content! :)

Hello, sweet anon! Thank you so much for this ask🥰 I love specific prompts since I don’t have to get too imaginative myself, lol! I would probably end up writing the exact same thing if I didn’t have prompts to go by😅 I hope you enjoy this small ficlet, and let me know if you have any other prompts you’d like me to do!

—————

“You’re still in bed?” Steve quirks an eyebrow at Tony who’s leaning back against the headboard, gaze focused on the tablet in his hand, tapping rapidly at the screen.

He’s wearing the glasses he keeps on his bedside table, because even if Tony doesn’t want to admit it he does need them, especially in the morning when his eyes are still adjusting to being awake. His hair is a rumpled mess, and his t-shirt is creased, probably from moving in his sleep since he sleeps restlessly when Steve gets out of bed.

He looks so good and soft, though, Steve thinks, with his glasses slightly askew and his morning hair, and Steve can’t help but smile at him when Tony looks up to see him leaning against the doorframe, hair wet from shower and wearing the soft sweatshirt he always puts on after working out.

“Well, my boyfriend left me while I was still sleeping to go for a run at 8 in the morning,” Tony says and smirks as he puts down his tablet, “on a Saturday, might I add.” He puts his arms over his head and stretches, sighing as he lets them drop back down onto the bed with a thump.

Tony’s eyes narrow for a second and twinkles with something mischievous, then he pats the empty slot beside him on the bed. Steve sighs, but he finds himself unable to deny getting back into bed with Tony and pads over the hardwood floor to sit down on the edge of the bed.

He’d woken up early that morning, even for him. He could tell it wasn’t time to get up yet, because the sun hadn’t risen, and when he’d looked at his phone to check the time, it was only 5:30. He had tried to go back to sleep, but he felt... odd. His head had been heavy and his eyes felt so tired. His nose had been a little stuffy, too, just enough that it felt uncomfortable to breathe through it. When he had tossed and turned for the better part of two hours, desperately wishing to doze off again but with no luck, he decided he might as well get up and go for his daily run. That would surely clear his head and freshen him up, Steve had thought.

It hadn’t.

“It wasn’t worth getting out of bed for,” Steve admits as he slip off Tony’s glasses, then strokes his thumb across his cheekbone.

“No?” Tony asks smugly and reaches around Steve to pull him him closer until Steve slings his feet onto the bed, shuffling into Tony’s sleep-warm embrace and resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Definitely not,” Steve murmurs into the fabric of the white t-shirt and snakes his arms around Tony’s waist. He suddenly feels like he could sleep for hours without waking, and in the moment he wants nothing more than to just bury himself in Tony’s chest and resign to the steadily increasing exhaustion he feels all over. “Maybe we should just stay here all day.”

Tony snorts fondly and places a kiss into the shower-damp, blonde hair. “Not that I’m complaining, but weren’t you the one harassing me for still being in bed just two minutes ago?”

“Hmph,” Steve grunts and nuzzles his face into the crook of Tony’s neck. “Don’t listen to me, I’m stupid.”

That makes Tony laugh, and Steve can feel the way his skin stretches, can imagine how his eyes crinkle, when he smiles. “You’re not stupid,” he assures and sighs contentedly as Steve shifts underneath the duvet, getting comfortable against him. “We can lie here as long as you want.”

They stay like that for a while, both of them on the verge of drifting off to a slumber when a slight buzzing in his nose demands Steve’s attention. He wrinkles his nose, then presses it into Tony’s collarbone when the tickle becomes more persistent. He can tell he’s going to sneeze when his eyes start tearing up, but he can’t get himself to move. All of a sudden, he realises how lethargic and achy his limbs feel, and before he has a chance decide whether or not he should lean away from Tony, the itch crests.

He ends up stifling two silent sneezes into Tony’s chest, head jerking a tiny bit, but he keeps it mostly under control and gives a tentative sniffle when he hopes he’s finished after the double.

He isn’t, though, because a sudden sneeze creeps up on him before he can swallow back the urge. He stifles it again, but this one is more forceful and makes his entire body jolt when he smothers it into Tony’s clavicle.

Then, Steve tenses, because Tony shifts, and Steve was sure he was asleep. He wasn’t, though, and he must’ve felt the random movements coming from Steve since he asks, “You alright?”

Steve just nods, praying Tony will let it go and close his eyes again. But, of course, the itch resurfaces, and Steve would very much like to talk whatever deity is watching over him in this instant.

He gears up to silence yet another sneeze, holding his breath to avoid an attention-grabbing gasp and hoping that maybe luck is going to be on his side and make the tickle disappear before it peaks. It doesn’t disappear.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as he stifles the sneeze, but this time it’s just too strong to fully mute and he involuntarily lets out a squeaky sound at the end, “hgnxt-tsCHiew!”

Exhaling slowly, Steve bites his lip and tries to stay as still as possible.

“Did you just sneeze?”

Shit.

A million thoughts run through Steve’s mind when he tries to decide how to answer. Should he deny it and try to act ignorant? Or maybe he should just admit that, apparently, he’s caught a wicked case of the sniffles. He weighs his options, but he never gets to voice either thought, because the itch returns with such urgency that he hurriedly turns away from Tony.

“huh-uhhETCH’oo! uhTSCHH!” The sneezes tumble out with such force that Steve feels it burn in the back of his throat, and he gives a few coughs in surprise before launching into another duo of sneezes. “Heh... ehCH’sshh! EISH’oo! Nng...”

Steve groans, a pained sound that proves just how bad he feels.

“Bless you!” Tony exclaims and rubs a comforting hand on Steve’s back. “Where did all those come from? Wait—“ Coming to a halt, Tony sits up a little straighter and tugs at Steve until he rolls onto his back, a bleary and woozy expression on his face. “Steve, those convulsion... why have you been trying to stifle your sneezes?” Tony looks at him with a confused and somewhat disapproving glare. “You know you shouldn’t do that.”

Steve sniffles a good few times, then lets out a stuffy sigh. Now that he’s been busted he might as well just admit to it all. “‘M sorry,” he croaks, voice gravelly from the throat-scraping sneezes. “We were all cuddled up, and I didn’t want to move, but I didn’t want to sneeze all over you either...” He shies away when Tony runs his index finger down the bridge of Steve’s nose, feeling the congestion begin to settle like concrete in his sinuses. “Sorry, I’mb all gross ndow.”

“You’re not gross, not at all,” Tony says and shakes his head, then pulls Steve’s head down onto his chest again. “Here, lay back down,” he soothes and offers Steve a small, affectionate smile.

Steve hesitates at first, but he finds that he has no will to pull back and lets himself be persuaded into settling into the warmth of Tony and the blanket.

“eh’Cchdt!” Steve holds back another sneeze that he muffles into Tony’s t-shirt, followed by a violent shudder that goes all the way from his shoulders to his toes. “Guh... sorry, I keep sdneezi’g.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Bless you, by the way,” Tony says sincerely and nuzzles a kiss to Steve’s temple. “You know you don’t have to hold them back like that, right? You can just sneeze. I really don’t mind...” Tony voice is all soft and fond and a little concerned as well.

Steve blushes, glad that Tony can’t see his face and the way his cheek turn crimson at the sentiment. “Are you, uh... are you sure?” he asks nervously.

“I promise I don’t mind,” Tony guarantees and cups Steve’s jaw, inching his face closer until he can catch Steve’s lips between his own, proving that he really doesn’t care about whatever super-soldier-germs Steve is distributing. “Plus, you’re cute when you’re all sick and needy. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where you’re the one suggesting we stay in bed all day,” he adds when Steve has to pull away to breathe.

Steve huffs against Tony’s mouth, then ducks his head to cough. His coughs are starting to get a rough, tired edge to them that tells Tony this is more than just the sniffles and that Steve really has caught some awful cold.

Tony curls himself a little tighter around Steve, encompassing him in both legs and arms as he sniffles quietly.

Then Steve sniffles again, more eagerly this time, and Tony knows by the wavering sound that he’s trying to fight off another bout of sneezes.

“Just sneeze, honey,” he coaxes, smiling to himself when Steve nods and draws in a series of short breaths. “I got you...”

A final, unsteady inhalation launches Steve into a fit of congested, tired-sounding sneezes that he muffles into Tony’s collarbone. “Huh... huptCH’ushh! uhh? Uhhushiew! Hh-h! HuhhISShhuu! snffSNFF! Oh...”

The release feels so good that Steve can’t help the quiet moan that follows the sneezes. He rubs his nose back and forth on Tony’s chest, clearing the lingering itch before relaxing into the comforting embrace.

Tony feels a rush of warmth and affection surge through him from the small, contented noises coming from Steve, letting himself bask in the glory of Steve’s body pressed this closely against his own. “This is really nice,” he says, voicing his thoughts bluntly.

Steve hums quietly. “Yeah,” he agrees and squeezes Tony a little tighter. He lifts his head to look into Tony’s warm, brown eyes through his blurry vision. The love and devotion he sees when he meets the caring gaze is clear, though, and his voice goes sweet as sugar when he continues, “You make being sick a lot less crappy.”

With a smile stretching from ear to ear, Tony leans down to rest their foreheads together. “You get sappy when you’re sick, Rogers,” he chuckles, brushing his nose against Steve’s.

Steve smiles, too, but it’s more serious, it’s earnest, expressing sincerity in a way only Captain America himself can embody. “You make life a lot less crappy, too.”

[dontfeeltoohot]

Just an idea here, and if you aren’t feeling it I totally understand, but what about a fic in the lumberjack!AU with both steve and bucky super sick?? Love this AU so much!!!

Another older prompt I have for some reason not gotten to! So so glad you enjoy the AU, and I hope you like the fic too! 

+ + +

When Steve wakes up with a sore throat and heavy body, he doesn’t think much of it. Okay, he doesn’t feel great, that doesn’t mean he can just lay in bed all day. He has kids to teach art to, he has laundry, and he’s been hoping to make this chicken dish all week, which he’d have time to do today. So no, no time to worry about a silly sore throat or some tiredness. He’s got shit to do. 

Going through his regular routine of eating some eggs and toast, drinking his coffee and watching Bucky outside, watching Bandit chew on sticks or her bone, Steve’s alright. The coffee helps his throat a little, and getting some food into his system makes him a little more awake. He’s great. 

After hopping in the shower and towel drying his hair, Steve looks at himself in the mirror. He’s maybe a little pale, and there’s circles under his eyes that he wouldn’t say are dark, but they’re there. He rolls his eyes at himself and goes to put on some khakis and a dark red sweater, one that’s a little warmer and softer than some of his other ones. If he’s going to be tired all day, he might as well be comfortable. He then freezes, internally kicking himself. He’s not going to be tired all day. He’s going to be great. 

+ + + 

Steve’s great. He’s peachy. It’s just that he’s feeling more tired and a little achy after the younger kids class, and he’s starting to cough, but he’s drinking water to hopefully counteract it all. Water is good right? It’s what your body craves when your sick. Except he’s not. Sick. 

Talking through his second and last class, he coughs a few times and rubs his face when the kids start doing their self portraits. Maybe he’s not....feeling so well. Maybe he’s ready to go home and lay down in bed, have Bandit curled up next to him. Better yet, have Bucky curled up next to him, maybe rubbing his back. 

When he’s driving home, he starts coughing again, gets shivery and cold, and though it’s only another ten minutes down the road, he wishes he could get Bucky to magically appear and drive for him. 

+ + + 

When Steve walks into the house, Bucky’s waiting there, Bandit by his side, and a cup of tea in his hands. Steve sees it and suddenly tea sounds good, so he slips his shoes off, getting ready to make one himself when Bucky stops him. 

“This is for you..” 

Steve blinks up owlishly and then takes it when Bucky moves it closer. 

“Thank you....today has been-”

Bucky cuts him off, shaking his head. “Mrs.Carol called me. Told me you looked terrible by the time you were packing your things up, told me you looked ready to drop, probably had a fever,” he explains softly, running a hand through Steve’s hair, stopping at his forehead. “And she’s right. You feel much warmer than you should, let’s get you in bed, my sick guy.”

It’s as if Steve’s walked into heaven. He lets Bucky move him into their room, lets him set the tea down and help him get changed into sweatpants and a tee, lets him get him in bed. Everything hurts. It took five hours for him to go from fine to miserable. That must be a new record. 

“No, it’s just the flu baby,” Bucky says fondly. He must have said the last part out loud, Steve realizes. 

“Just rest. I’m going to get you some tylenol and then you can sleep. After I shower I’ll come cuddle with you.” 

True to his word, Bucky does as he’s said, and soon he’s nuzzling Steve’s neck and rubbing his shoulder, telling him how much he loves him and how he’ll feel better after he naps. 

+ + +

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening is spent sleeping, drifting in and out in an exhausted and feverish haze, as Bucky leaves for a bit and then comes in with more medicine and a bowl of soup that he’s made appear from somewhere, because Steve can’t recall having any in the house. Bucky gives him more pills to swallow after he takes a few bites of soup, but then he’s back asleep and Bucky’s saving the bowl from tipping in his lap. 

It’s nearing four am when Steve wakes up again, still feeling awful and feverish and needy for Bucky, who’s asleep next to him. Looking around, Bandit is on her bed on the floor, and the barely consumed bowl of soup is on their dresser. His eyes get heavy again and he smushes his face into Bucky’s shoulder, coughing and drifting back to sleep. 

When sun is trickling into their bedroom, Steve wakes up again and stumbles to the bathroom to relieve himself from all the water and tea he’s consumed over the past 24 hours. Crawling back into bed, he sees Bucky and Bandit are gone. He checks his phone and it’s barely eight in the morning. Steve starts drifting off when he opens his eyes again, hearing Bucky walk in. He’s still in the clothes he wore to sleep, and he’s carrying two cups of tea. 

“How’re you feeling?” Steve looks up and attempts to sit up a little for the tea, but really he’s just moved half an inch upwards. Bucky sets both of the cups down and helps him. 

“Terrible,” Steve admits. There’s no getting around it. Wouldn’t deny it if he could. Bucky hands him the drink once he’s sitting up enough he won’t choke, and then gets into his side of the bed, positioning himself to mirror his husband. 

“I called Nat...she’s going to bring something over tonight, and make sure everything is watered for the vegetable garden,” he says quietly after a minute. It strikes Steve through his fever-y state that Bucky’s not out working. He looks over, noting the slightly red hue to cheeks, the way he looks a little drawn. 

“I got you sick,” Steve says, sad and quiet. Bucky scoots over a little, shrugging. 

“Do you know how much I kiss you? I wouldn’t have been able to avoid it,” he assures him, trying to keep Steve from getting too emotional. They lay there for a while, sipping tea, and then Bucky grabs the mug from Steve when he starts nodding off. He sets both the cups back on the side table, moves the pillows so they can be horizontal again, and then they’re both asleep. 

[sammyspreadyourwings]

Poly Queen 11 They were looking at each other with the intensity usually reserved for bomb defusion

11 They were looking at each other with the intensity usually reserved for bomb defusion

I almost made this super angsty. But I usually make prompts super angsty, so this was a personal challenge! Enjoy!

Brian wakes up first with an achy back and a throbbing head. He has vague memories of someone taking him to bed for a quick drunken shag. The warmth informs him that the other person is still in the bed with him. The curiosity of how lucky he’d gotten last night he opens his eyes more and is greeted with shoulder-length blond hair and a familiar sleeping face.

Roger must’ve crawled into his bed by mistake, which means his partner is going to be confused. An arm slaps his hip, and Brian turns around (ow his ass hurts, what the hell?). He recognizes the profile, but he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing at first, John let’s out three rapid snores and Brian shakes his head. Maybe he can weasel his way out of this before John wakes up and remembers last night. Hopefully, he’ll keep it quiet so neither Freddie or Roger freak out. At least he knows why his ass is sore.

Brian shoves up, but then his foot hits something soft but solid. He raises his eyes skyward and then down to see what he kicks. It’s another person and it’s Freddie. The rest of his brain wakes up, and he notices that the blankets are on the ground leaving him a full view of his bandmates’ bare chests and legs (except for John who’s wearing boxers that are the tiniest bit too large on him).

Oooooh fuck.        

Brian extracts himself as quickly and as gently as possible. Roger grunts but rolls over into the space that Brian has just vacated. John’s arm wraps around Roger and Freddie stretches out to where Brian’s legs had been. It’s cute, but Brian only lets himself have a moment to memorize this before it inevitably crashes down. He picks up a pair of gray sweatpants and practically bolts to the bathroom.

It’s more of a rapid waddle because he’s sore and hungover, but it’s the fastest he can manage.

The mirror confirms what he thought. His neck and collar are blotted with dark bruises, and more red marks from softer bites mar his entire torso. Brian runs a hand through his hair and winces as he tugs on his sensitive scalp.

It doesn’t help that his brain decides it would be helpful to recall the image of John pulling just enough that it hurt and whispering an assortment of filthy things as Roger bites at his neck.

At least the sex had been good, Brian things hysterically. They got a good shag before the best thing in his life burns because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for once. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’s the one who initiated it, Brian’s been harboring crushes on all his bandmates since the day he met each of them. A part of him wonders how drunk they had all been for him to a) suggest it and b)for them to follow through on it.

He debates getting in the shower, but the thought of standing for that long makes his legs hurt. Also, if one of the others woke up, they’d have the advantage of knowing where he is. Brian blinks, he hadn’t realized he’d been thinking of leaving, but after a couple of seconds of consideration, it might be valid. At least the others might be able to write it off as a drunken night. His heart wouldn’t survive trying to forget about it.

Once he’s mostly pushed the panic back, he grabs a dirty shirt from the hamper. It’s one of John’s and he drops it and roots around for one of his own. He listens as he steps out of the bathroom. It doesn’t seem like anyone as moved, so he pads down to the kitchen. Tea would be fantastic for his hangover and his nerves, but he worries about the noise waking someone up, so he settles for a glass of tap water.

Brian wonders how he can make his escape. His life is in this flat, so it isn’t like he can just pick up and go. The water sits on the counter. Brian stares at it and wishes it would be able to tell him what to do. Naturally, it doesn’t and sits still as if Brian isn’t having a crisis strong enough to cave the walls of his heart.

Arms wrap around his waist and he goes rigid. Long hair tickles his back. He keeps his eyes resolutely forward.

“Up already?”

Brian doesn’t know why he’s surprised it’s John, he supposes it might because it’s a Sunday and John has a personal rule of never stepping foot out of the bed before 10 a.m. When he doesn’t reply, John hooks his chin over Brian’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see John puzzling something out.

“Come back to bed.”

Why? So, you can be comfortable before shedding my heart to pieces. Brian makes a note to grab Red Special, everything else he owns is replaceable.

“What idea have you got going on in that brain of yours?”

Brian swallows but doesn’t answer. He’s scared that he can’t keep his voice from cracking and that would give the game up, it’s already lost but he’d like to keep some dignity. John’s arms tighten and then he’s being spun around. He’s forced to meet John’s eyes which are narrowed in thought. Brian looks down again and is too stunned to resist when John grabs his wrist and starts tugging him down the hallway.

They end up in his bedroom again. Roger and Freddie are curled around each other, but awake. Brian goes still as though that would make them not realize that he isn’t there. John shuts the door and leans against it. He doesn’t like the feeling of being trapped, but he does have the advantage of being the most dressed in the room.

They are looking at each other with the intensity usually reserved for bomb diffusion, then Brian drops his eye contact. He hears John’s heavy sigh.

“Bri, come back to bed.”

His head whips up to see that Roger had crawled to the edge of the bed. Later he’ll try to reason with himself that he was trying to be selfish and get one last hug, but Roger was looking at him with love and longing and he steps forward. He doesn’t climb back in the bed, but Roger doesn’t mind because he wraps his arms around Brian’s hip and rest his head on Brian’s stomach.

Freddie leans against the pillows, as though he’s a prince watching his subjects. Brian bites the inside of his cheek and his hand automatically soothes Roger’s mussed hair. They make awkward eye contact over the next several minutes, but something must have changed on his face, but Freddie leans forward.

“What were you doing?”

Brian’s hand still in Roger’s hair, who looks up apparently having been lulled back to sleep. John crosses his arm.

“I don’t know,” the words tumble out.

He does know the ideas that were rattling around his head, but John caught him before he could make his choice. It wasn’t the right thing to say, he feels Roger tense and sees John’s jaw tighten and Freddie narrow his eyes, but it was the only thing he could say.

“What did you want to do?” Freddie presses.

That’s a more complicated question. Brian knows that he needs to get out of here before the house of cards tumbles, but what he wants to do is curl up in the bed again and sleep away the turmoil of the day. He keeps his lips pressed closed. His eyes dart towards the Jimi Hendrix poster he has on the way.

“Was last night a mistake?” John’s voice is strangely quiet.

“What?” Brian blinks.

John narrows his eyes, “are you ashamed of last night? It was your idea.”

He winces. Although it doesn’t make much sense that John would be upset at him for thinking it a mistake. The words get stuck in his throat, but he forces them out in hopes of salvaging the band.

“Ashamed? No. I’ve wanted that for years, but I didn’t want to make a big deal about it because the band is more important than my feelings.”

Roger’s grip tightens, “Bri.”

“It’s true. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t handle the thought of the band failing because of me.”

“You give yourself too much credit,” Freddie says, strangely serious.

Brian doesn’t know if he should feel offended.

Roger chuckles, “if it weren’t for you, we never would have gotten out heads out of our asses.”

“We wouldn’t have had the courage to ask, then when it came time for someone to move on… that would’ve put a strain on the band.”

He stares at Freddie as though the man has grown a second head, “what are you saying?”

Roger looks up and presses his chin into Brian’s stomach, “aren’t you supposed to be the clever one?”

When Brian doesn’t give a response Roger rolls his eyes, “we’re saying that we should give this a try. Clearly, it worked last night.”

“We already are in each other’s pockets,” John adds, “I don’t see how this will change things much. Might make it better.”          

“And before you work the idea into your head, we aren’t doing this to get a laugh from you or out of pity,” Freddie’s dark eyes pin him.

Brian wonders if this is love or something else. It could be love in the future. He’d like it if they lasted long enough to see this to its full potential, he knows that they could be great. He looks down at Roger whose eyes are bright and smiling and then to John who eyes are guarded but no less gentle and Freddie who seems to know with his endless confidence that this won’t ruin anything.

“Okay,” he settles on.

Roger and Freddie tag team him to pull him back to the bed and once he’s practically immobile, John climbs in so that he’s between the wall and Freddie. It feels like he’s come home for the first time in years.

[sen-bi]

Secret Santa Gift Exchange :)

A YamaYachi college/aged up sick fic for @lalikaa for the @haikyuuwriters event! hope you like it!

Word count: 3041

—–

Yamaguchi woke up with a pounding headache. He sat up in bed, bones stiff and rickety. He let out a little groan as he brought his hands up to his eyes to rub them. The action was quickly followed by a hoarse cough, leaving his throat burning.

“Tadashi? Are you okay?” came a quiet voice from the covers. Yachi sat up in bed and rubbed her boyfriend’s back as he was sent into a coughing fit.

“I must have caught a cold from that kid in my psychology lecture,” he replied after the coughing finally subsided. His throat was burning and his lungs were practically begging for a break. Yachi’s cool hand rested against Yamaguchi’s cheek.

“You’re burning up! Wait here, I’ll grab a wet rag for you. Just lay back and rest up.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she helped him relax back into the bed.

Yamaguchi let out a tired sigh and closed his eyes as Yachi left the room. The holidays were coming up, what a great time to get sick. He had plans for the two of them that day. After classes, he had wanted to go walking through the park, the snow outside was just enough to appreciate. He also wanted to take Yachi to a nice dinner at her favorite restaurant. And to end the day he wanted to go back to the park to look at all the holiday lights that were hung up. It was supposed to be a cute day, not a gross one full of snot and coughing.

Yamaguchi’s eyes opened slowly as he heard the bedroom door open. He smiled to himself as Yachi began to walk back over to the bed with a rag, s bowl of soup, and some medicine. She set the tray on the side of the bed and sat at the edge of it. Pushing his bangs out of the way, she picked up the cool rag and placed it on his forehead.

“How does that feel?” asked Yachi as she began to take the medicine out of its bottle.

“Better,” he sighed. He sat up a little and began to eat the soup Yachi had brought for him. It was warm and soothed his irritated throat. It also settled the nausea that was starting to come up from all the coughing. He took the pills Yachi handed him along with the glass of water. After taking the medicine, he set the water back on the tray and continued to eat his soup until it was all gone. When he was finished, he relaxed back into the bed and let Yachi cover him with the covers.

“Will you be okay if I go to class? Or do you want me to stay?” asked Yachi, brushing back Yamaguchi’s damp hair.

“Go head to class, I’ll just be here sleeping,” he replied with a small smile.

“Alright, you go ahead and sleep.” She kissed his forehead lightly before walking to the closet and changing into day clothes and grabbing her bag. “I’ll be back around two. I’ll heck in on you and give you your second round of medicine then, see you later Yama-Yama.”

“Bye Hitoka, have a good time in class.”

“I’ll try!” and with one more quick peck to his cheek, Yachi was out the door of their apartment and heading to class.

-

Yachi got off the train and began her 10-minute walk to her university campus. To say she was worried about Yamaguchi was an understatement. He never really got sick al that often, so whenever he did all Yachi could do was try her best to make she he’s comfortable and tried to make sure he would recover quickly.

She hated being apart from him in times like this, especially since they both have such busy schedules between her part time job and his volleyball team. Going to different universities didn’t make it any easier.

Yachi rounded the corner and made her way onto the campus. She walked down to her first lecture, sociology. She walked into the lecture hall and took her normal seat in the middle of the top row.

As her professor rattles on about race and wage, Yachi felt her phone vibrate in her bag. She took it out and saw that she had gotten a text.

Yama-Yama: Hi love, how’s class ?? x

Yachi smiled down at her phone before replying.

Me: Boring, as always :/ Shouldn’t u be resting ?? How r u feeling???

Yama-Yama: Much better, thanks to a super caring girlfriend! <3

Yama-Yama: Well I’ll wait for you here at home ! See you later, love you!

Me: Love u too, see u soon. <3

With a giant smile, Yachi put her phone back in her bag before going back to pay attention to whatever her old professor was saying.

-

Yamaguchi smiled at his phone and put it down on the nightstand next to their bed. He was feeling better, a little feverish and achy, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. A shower was definitely needed, and it would probably make him feel better anyways.

He stood in the shower, letting the steam open up his lungs and relieve his aching chest. It felt good to wash off the sweat from his fever and let the warm water calm down his chills.

After stepping out of the shower, he made sure to dry off his hair. He didn’t need to get any sicker than he already was. He walked to the closet and changed into a new pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a clean t-shirt. He then made his way to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He sat down on the couch and flipped on a random channel showing cartoons.

He sipped at his tea as he sat curled, enjoying whatever mindless thing played on the television. He didn’t like being sick, but having a little bit to relax was always good. Recently Yamaguchi had just been so overwhelmed with school and volleyball, he was starting to feel like he barely had any room to breathe. It was also stressful rarely seeing Yachi. The two only really got to see each other on weekends and at night. Of course, that is quite a reasonable amount of time to see your girlfriend, Yamaguchi would just prefer to see her more often.

He set down his empty cup just as soon as he heard the door unlock.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home.”

Yachi dropped her bag and shoes by the door and walked to the living room, plopping down on the cushion right next to Yamaguchi.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, bringing her hand up to run her fingers through his hair.

“Better, still a bit achy and throat is still a bit sore, but what can you do?” he shrugged.

“I suppose,” she sighed, continuing to run her fingers through freshly washed hair.

“What do you want for dinner?” she then asked. “I’ll make anything you want. This fairy is here to grant your sick person wishes.”

“Any kind of soup or stew,” he replied, closing his eyes and leaning into her hand. Yachi smiled and gave a small nod.

“Okay, how does plain chicken soup with rice sound? Light enough for your stomach?”

“Sounds perfect, thank you, love,” he replied, looking at Yachi and giving her a small smile.

“Anything for you, Yama-Yama.” Yachi stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She began to clean and cut and prepare her ingredients.

She got the water boiling and started adding ingredients one by one. She smiled to herself as she heard Yamaguchi laugh every once in a while, at whatever was happening on the TV. She started the rice and let the soup settle. Walking back to the living room, Yachi sat back down next to her sick boyfriend.

“Still a little warm,” she said to herself as she placed her hand on Yamaguchi’s cheek. He happily leaned into the touch, eliciting a smile from Yachi.

“The soup and rice will be ready in about 10 minutes,” she said as she began to run her hand through Yamaguchi’s hair.

“Tell me about your day, then. While I was cooped up feeling death take over, what were up to in lecture?” he asked, leaning into Yachi’s hand.

“Boring as always, I never know what my professor is talking about,” she sighed. “He’s always topic hopping and never finishes his thoughts. It’s like listening to a toddler babble on about their favorite cartoon. It doesn’t make much sense.

Yamaguchi laughed, causing a bit of a coughing fit after.

“That’s hilarious,” he said after coming down from the coughing. “I would fall asleep every time in that class.”

“Oh, trust me, I do,” replied Yachi, rolling her eyes as she rubbed his back.

“What else did you do, other than suffer in a boring class?”

Yachi relaxed into her boyfriend’s side, now that his coughing had completely subsided. He put his arm loosely around her as she placed her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“Got some coffee with a couple friends after class, not really much. Studied a little, I have test coming up next week that I don’t feel like cramming for. Overall it was just a chill day. I just wanted to come home and make sure you were doing okay.”

“I’m doing a lot better now that I have an amazing girlfriend to take care of me,” smiled Yamaguchi.

“Come on,” Yachi chuckled. “Food is done.” She grabbed Yamaguchi’s hand, helping him up from the couch and leading him to the kitchen. He sat down at the table as Yachi began pouring soup into bowls along with the fresh rice. She placed a bowl down in front of him and one in front of her own seat.

Yamaguchi sipped at his soup, letting out a sigh. “So good, feels so good against my throat. Thanks, Yachi.”

“Anything for you,” she smiled, sipping at her own soup.

Yamaguchi added some rice to his soup and ate in quiet contentment. He was finally starting to feel not completely terrible. His fever had gone down considerably and the warm soup settled his churning stomach. His throat no longer felt as raw as it had that morning and he felt like he could finally take in a full breath.

When they were done with their meal, the pair put their dishes in the sink and waltzed back on into their bedroom.

Yachi climbed into the bed first and pulled Yamaguchi down with her, snuggling into his side.

“If you stay too close to me, you’re gonna get sick too,” warned Yamaguchi.

“It’s alright,” shrugged Yachi. “Then you’ll just have to take care of me.” She proceeded to pull the covers around them and hid her face in his neck.

Yamaguchi thought about how lucky he was to have Yachi. Ever since high school, she was there to help take care of him. She helped calm his nerves and was always there when he felt like he couldn’t do it. And in times like this where he fell ill, she always took care of him. She always knew what to do, and he was so grateful for that.

He really didn’t want her to get sick to, but it was hard to push her away, especially looking down at her and seeing her pale blonde hair falling over her face as she rest peacefully against him. But he knew that getting her sick would make him feel terrible.

“Hey, Hitoka, are you sure you wanna be this close to me? I seriously don’t want to get you sick.”

“I already told you, Tadashi,” she said back, looking up at him. “I don’t care if you get me sick. I just want to be close to you. We rarely get to see each other as it is, so I’ll take as much time with you as I can get, even if that means catching your cold.”

“I just don’t want you getting sick,” he pouted.

“I know, I know, but I’ll be fine,” she smiled, giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

“Wait right here, it’s about time you take your medicine again.” Yachi left the room and came back with a glass of water and the medicine. Yamaguchi happily took it, wanting to get better already so he could kiss and love his girlfriend without fear of getting her sick. He also wanted to take her out so that they could spend some time together without one of them feeling like they were about to drop dead.

Yachi snuggled back into his side and turned on the TV that was sat on top of their dresser.

“Now to continue with some more cartoons.”

The couple lay snuggled in bed, watching whatever the characters on their television were doing. As another cheesy and poorly animated fight scene came on, Yachi began to hear the soft snores of her partner.

She smiled at him and mindlessly ran her hands through his hair. It was slightly damp with sweat; his fever wasn’t completely gone. She smiled softly at the light flush of pink that dusted over his face. His freckles added on to the innocent look his sleeping face had. He sniffled a little in his sleep, his nose still a little runny due to his cold. He really looked like a napping baby in Yachi’s eyes.

Yamaguchi, in his sleep, unknowingly began to snuggle closer into Yachi, wrapping his arms completely around her. Yachi chuckled to herself, Yamaguchi did get clingy when he was tired, and this cold must have put quite the number on his energy.

She felt bad for him, being sick was never fun, and he was already tired to start with. But at the same time, she was glad he was finally able to fall asleep. His anxiety had been bothering him for a while now and it was hard for him to get to sleep. His lack of sleep must have been the reason he caught his cold from someone else so easily.

Yachi allowed herself to relax against him and close her eyes. She took in is even breathing and warm body. He was a little warmer than he usually was.

Yachi had been tired too, running between school and work, she honestly wouldn’t mind getting sick if it meant Yamaguchi would be there to spoil her and she would finally get a chance and have some kind of excuse to just stay in bed.

Yachi allowed herself to drift off, the television still playing softly in the bedroom and Yamaguchi’s soft snores lulling her to sleep like a lullaby.

-

Yamaguchi woke up first the next day. Yachi lay at his side, hidden under the covers. He got up out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He felt so much better that morning, and he looked better than he did yesterday. His face as no longer flushed red and he didn’t look as sickly pale.

He then decided to hop in the shower, his body sticky from sweating out his fever. He got into the shower and relished n the feeling of the sweat being washed away. He took the time to scrub his hair and body, removing any trace of yesterday’s sickness.

After his shower, he went back to the room and put on some clean clothes consisting of some shorts and a t-shirt. He looked over at the bed to see that Yachi was still fast asleep. He decided that he would spoil her this morning, after all that she had done for him yesterday. So, after changing, he made his way to the kitchen.

Walking over to the fridge, he took out a couple eggs, a tomato, some onions, and ham. He’d made her a breakfast omelet that morning.

After cutting and preparing his ingredients, he got the stove burning and placed a pan over the fire. He cracked the eggs into a bowl and whipped them until they were nice and fluffy, just how Yachi liked them. He them poured them into the pan, followed by the rest of his ingredients. He folded the eggs when they were cooked and flipped the omelet. When it was done, he dropped the steaming omelet on to a plate. He then proceeded to make some toast and grab some juice.

Putting everything on a tray, he took the tray back to his room and placed it on the bedside table on Yachi’s side.

“Hey, babe, time to wake up.”

Yachi groaned under the covers and pulled them farther over her head.

“Still sleepy,” she mumbled.

“Come on, I made you an omelet with toast and got you some orange juice. Gotta have a good breakfast so you can take on the day.”

“No taking on of days today,” she whined, poking her head out from under the covers.

Yamaguchi looked at her, and noticed that her pale skin was a little paler than normal and it had an unusual flush of pink over it.

“Did you catch my cold?” sighed Yamaguchi.

“Maybe,” she said, before sneezing into her hands. “Yeah, I did.”

“I told you you’d get sick,” he sighed

“Well I regret nothing, I got to spend yesterday with you and now I get to spend today with you. If you look past the whole sick thing, I’d say it’s a win-win,” said Yachi, coughing between almost every word.

“Well you still have to eat so you can take medicine, so eat up,” Yamaguchi spoke as he placed the tray of food over her lap.

“Thanks, Tadashi.” As Yachi ate her omelet and toast, Yamaguchi left to go grab some medicine. He took the two little pills out of the bottle and placed them on the tray next to Yachi’s now empty plate.

Yachi took the medicine with her juice and flopped back down in bed.

“Being sick isn’t so bad,” she said with a goofy smile.

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at her and crawled back into bed next to her.

“I guess.”

[rhetoricalrogue]

Inktober for Writers - 3. Warmth

Day 3′s Inktober for Writer’s prompt done!  Yeah, I’ve pretty much decided that this month is going to be focusing on the OTP of 2017.  I’m still super rusty, but I love these two so much.  The lovely Roz belongs to @alittlestarling.

9:29 Dragon

The last thing hat Vincent could clearly remember of the afternoon was tutoring a young mage on how to properly cast an ice wall.  He’d spent days teaching the academics: the intent of the spell, the proper gestures, how to will the magic within you to do what you wanted.  Everything was going so well that Vincent had decided to move to the practical side a little earlier than usual.

It was an ice wall.  Ice walls didn't need barriers.  Sure, his student had cast the spell a little too close to them, but he had figured that they would work on depth perception later.  The wall hadn't been very tall either, so Vincent had to kneel to inspect the work.  

He should have known better.  The slight crackle sound of ice was familiar, but he should have put up a barrier once the musical tinkling turned into ominous cracking.  He'd barely had enough time to push his pupil away before the entire thing blew up in his face.

White-hot searing pain had lanced up his right side.  He'd cried out as the explosion had blown him backwards, the back of his head smacking against the stone floor, and then everything had gone dark.

The first thing Vincent registered when he came to was that the hard floor had been replaced with a soft bed.  The second thing he registered were the fingers cupped loosely around his left hand.  Even without looking, he knew who they belonged to.

“Roz?”  He cleared his throat, wondering why his mouth felt so dry.

The hand in his tightened.  “Shh,” she said.  There was a bit of shuffling before Vincent felt cool fingers on his cheek.  “You should be resting.”

“Patrick, is he…” it had been a minor accident, more Vincent's fault for being careless than a twelve-year-old’s, surely the Knight-Captain wouldn't…

“He's fine,” Roz assured him, her voice low and soothing.  “A little shaken up and scared, but otherwise alright.  How are you feeling?”

He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Achy.  Why can't I see?”  He reached up to touch the right side of his face where it hurt the most.

Roz reached over his body and pulled his hand down.  “Don’t.  It…” he heard her lick her lips.  “That side is where the worst of it is.”

“How bad was I hurt?”

“Ice shrapnel directly to the face.”  She got up and rounded the bed, the mattress dipping as she sat down on the edge.  “You have some cuts to the left side, but it looks as if you had turned away at the last second, or else it would have been worse.”  Her fingers were warm as they carefully undid the bandages over his forehead.  “It could have been worse.  The healers stopped the bleeding, but they said that you’ll still have scars.”

Vincent blinked as his left eye was uncovered.  “I can't open my right one.”

There was a familiar tingle of magic down his spine as Roz heated the water inside a nearby basin.  “It's swollen shut.”  She wrung out a washcloth and gently patted at his cheek.  The scent of elfroot was strong in the air and the warmth of the water was soothing, but not as soothing as the feel of Roz’s magic wrapping around his body as she silently laid down a healing spell.  “A piece slashed you from cheekbone to eyebrow.  You were very lucky that you didn't lose your eye.  You may still - we won't know the full damage until we can get the swelling down to look.”

Vincent stared at her face and took in the slight trembling of her bottom lip.  “Hey, it's going to be okay.”  Reaching up, he cupped her cheek.  “I'm going to heal up and you'll just have a slightly uglier best friend than you had before, just you wait.”

Roz laughed, even as she slapped at his chest.  “You've never been ugly, you idiot.  All this is going to do is make you look like some sort of battle-weary hero Janice reads about in those books she somehow managed to get the merchant to bring in.”

“Perish the thought.  I don't know if my ego could inflate to such standards of rugged handsomeness.”  He gently tugged at her until their foreheads were pressed lightly together.  “It’s going to be okay.  Can I see the damage?”

“I don't know where you keep a mirror.”

“Top drawer of that dresser, next to my shaving kit.”

She sat by him again, the round mirror shifting from hand to hand.  “Just don't be surprised,” she cautioned.  “It looks worse than it is because of all the swelling, but…”

“Rosalind.  Just give me the mirror, please.”

Roz wordlessly handed the mirror to him.  Taking a breath, Vincent brought it up to his face.

“Oh.”  The right side of his face was bright red, which he assumed had been from exposure to ice.  There was a long, jagged cut bisecting his eyebrow and going down his cheek, parts of it splintering off from the main injury, almost as if he had a lightning pattern on his cheekbone. There was a deep gouge along his cheek and a similarly deep looking cut on his chin and rounding upwards to his left jawline.

“I told you it was bad.”

He fought the urge to touch the worst injury.  “Well, I won't be winning any beauty contests, that's for certain.”  He tilted his head so he could inspect his eye.  Like Roz said, it looked pretty bad.  “How long until things calm down so we can see the total damage?”

“I don't know, but let me put a poultice on some of these ice burns.  It'll help with the pain and some of the swelling.”

“You really think that'll work?”

“Please.  I grew these herbs myself.  You of all people should know that my little pep talks to the plants makes them grow up big and strong.  And unlike some people stuck in bed, not naming names, I happened to pay attention in horticulture classes.”

“I paid attention,” he grumbled, sighing as Roz applied the poultices to his cheek and secured them with a clean bandage.  “Maybe not as much as you, but…” He broke off to yawn, wincing as his face protested.

“You really ought to get some sleep,” she said.  “That's probably the best thing you can do right now.”

As if to prove her right, Vincent had to stifle another yawn.  “How long was I out anyway?”

“A full day and a half.  It took three Templars to haul your butt up the stairs and into your room.”

He snorted.  “Probably wishing they could have just stuck me in the mage dormitory instead of having to go up to the Enchanter floor.”  Vincent watched as Roz put away everything into a neat little kit, his good eye spying the shadows under her eyes.  “You should get some rest too.”

“I'm fine, Vincent, really.”

“Roz.”

She shrugged.  “I took naps.”

“In that uncomfortable chair with your neck at a funny angle, I bet.”  He patted the mattress.  “Come on, there's plenty of room and I don't bite.  Not unless you ask nicely.”

That earned him a roll of the eyes, but Roz did crawl back into bed with him, kicking off her shoes as she snuggled up against his left side.  “It's good to know you still have your sense of humor.”

“Always.”  Vincent lifted his arm so he could wrap it around her shoulder.  “Thank you, by the way.  For being here with me, and for helping me heal.”

“As if you wouldn't have done the same if our spots were reversed.”  Roz curled up closer, her leg tangling up with his.  “It's what best friends do.”

“I know.”  He was grateful that his left cheek didn't hurt as he rested the side of his face against the crown of her head.  “I love you, Roz.”

“And I love you back, you big lug.  Now shush, and go to sleep.”

Vincent closed his eye and began to relax.  Just as he was drifting off, he was hit with a sudden thought.  “I really should write Mother, so she doesn't go into fits when she sees me next.”

“I already wrote a letter explaining what happened.  And you give Marta too little credit, she's made of sterner stuff than that.”

“Can I read it before you send it out?”

“Vincent.  Sleep.”

Vincent began to open his mouth to say something, but never got further than the first syllable.  The last thing he felt before passing out was the sensation of Roz's sleep spell covering him like a warm blanket.

[kpopyourcherryy]

Mayday - vi

Genre; horror/mystery 

Length; 2,900+ words

Warning(s); violence, abuse (physical, verbal, emotional), kidnap 

Y/n’s p.o.v. 

The last thing you remember when you finally woke up was hearing Jaebum’s and Youngjae’s voice, and screaming for help until you heard the sound of the front door closing once again; then tears streaming down your face when he entered the room. His words, “Let’s get you home..” ran through your head as hiss hand viciously came down on you thrice more before you were finally out again.

Your eyes began to slowly open once again, the hazy filter made it hard for you to make out exactly where you were- it felt like a dream... your head hurt, your face and entire right side felt bruised and achy. “Wh- Where am I?...” You asked that dreadfully cliche question as he you rubbed your eyes, sitting yourself up. That’s when you suddenly felt it, the cool leather fabric that was wrapped around your neck and the icy, heavy chain that hung from it. Bringing your hands up to your neck, you felt the heavy duty collar, “What the fu-” Your voice trailed off as your eyes finally noticed the heavy chain that was basically bolted into the wall. 

Your blood ran cold when you heard footsteps coming from the hall way behind you. Immediately, you backed up against the wall; pressing against it as if you hope it could somehow protect you from him. “Are you awake,y/n?” Jackson calmly asked as he walked out in front of you. 

“I- I wanna go home..” You whimpered, tears began forming in the corners of your eyes. You looked around the room once again- the walls were empty and painted a dingy grey color that made the whole place look sickly- there were no windows, so you didn’t even know what time it was; whether it was day or night. “Please.. I won’t tell anyone- I just want to go--” 

Before you could finish your sentence, Jackson landed a harsh open-hand slap across your bruised cheek. He then crouched down in front of you, gently cupping your abused flesh in his large hands; forcing your gaze back up at him. A wide, toothy smile sprawled across his face as he motioned around the near empty room, “This is home now, y/n.” He replied, then playfully bounced the chain attached to your collar, “If you’re a good girl, this will come off okay? It’s only there now for cautionary purposes..” His playful demeanor suddenly changed as he finished his spine chilling sentence. 

“Caution- Cautionary purposes?” You timidly stuttered, but your question seemed to only agitate him as he roughly wrapped his hand around your through; squeezing only to slightly cut off your air. Your hands immediately shot up to his forearm, clawing at it as he pressed harder on your throat. “Ja- “ You gasped, the lack of air brought tears to your eyes as your face reddened, “Stop- St-”  Before you could continue your weak attempts to form words, Jackson eased up on you. The fresh air burned as it rushed into your lungs causing to you to weakly cough while you steadied your breathing. 

You peered up at Jackson with your teary, frightened gaze only to be met with his dull, nightmarish stare. The older man leaned down, his face only a couple inches away from yours, “You’ll NEVER be able to leave me again, y/n.” He snarled, lifting his upper lip like a dangerous wild animal, “I won’t allow it- I’ll kill you before you leave me for him again..” 

At first your mind didn’t really register what he said, but once it kicked in; you just sat there, staring down at your hands as tears furiously streamed down your cheeks. 

Just as Jackson was about to speak again, the sound of his text tone rang through your ears- it was an oddly calming, yet cheery song that simultaneously haunted you. How could someone so awful- so sick and deranged, display themselves as this gently, kind-hearted person?

Jackson’s p.o.v. 

Standing from his spot in front of you, he replied to Mark; who’s texts sounded so desperate and fearful. 

Through his peripheral vision he could see the curiosity that painted itself on your face. He turned his attention back to you, grinning as he practically waved his phone in your face, “What, y/n?” He asked in a smooth, intimidating yet playful tone, “You wanna know it is?” Pausing for a moment, waiting for your response that never came, he cleared his throat as he unlocked his phone once more. 

“Well, I’ll tell you anyways.” He replied to himself, holding the phone in front of your face; allowing you to read the texts, “It’s your precious boyfriend..” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as a ghoulish giggle flowed out of him.  Scrolling up, he allowed you to read the most recent messages, “Look how worried he is, y/n.” He chuckled, seeing the man he despised so distressed brought nothing but joy to him. 

Y/n’s p.o.v. 

You sat there reading and rereading Mark’s frantic messages to the man who was causing the worry to happen in the first place.  Tears continued to flow down your cheeks like rivers as your blood boiled. 

Looking at a giggling Jackson, you shook your head in complete disgust.  This couldn’t be the same man you once were proud to call your best friend. How could it be? 

“You’re disgusting..” You softly uttered out, your insult immediately quieted his laughter. 

He tilted his head slightly, scoffing in disbelief, “What the fuck did you just say?” 

“I said-” You replied as you propped yourself up onto your knees, “You’re fucking d i s g u s t i n g. You’re fake as fuck. Just wait until Mar-” Cutting you off before you could continue, Jackson landed several vicious slaps across your bruised face, then roughly slammed you against the wall behind you. 

“Shut the fuck up!” He shouted as he slapped you once more, “You stupid selfish bitch! You talk so highly about him like he’s some sort of super hero, but is he out looking for you like the others were?” He brutishly growled as he knocked you down onto the could tiled floor, “You know what he’s doing instead of looking for you? He’s sitting there sulking, waiting for me to take him fucking booze so he can gain the courage to text some other whore to keep him company while you’re gone.” 

The unbelievable pain you felt from his harsh blows and being so carelessly man handled was almost nothing compare to the stinging words that freely flowed from his mouth- drawing out a shaky cry as you wished for it all to be over. 

Suddenly, with one swift movement, he was on top of you; pressing his heavy, muscular body against you like a predator would do it’s prey. “He doesn’t love you, y/n..” He spoke in a smooth, low snarl, “Not like I do at least..” 

You practically trembled beneath him as he stayed there on top of you.  He suddenly wrapped one of his hands around your throat again, cutting of your air for the second time as his eyes loomed over your helpless, fragile body. 

“Don’t test my patience, y/n..” He lowly growled his warning, then roughly pressed his lips against yours. As he broke the sudden kiss, he took your lower lip between his teeth- gently nibbling it, just before he leaned down and whispered, “Mark’s not coming to save you, y/n.. Don’t make me hurt you anymore princess..” 

Nothing but a fearful whimper escaped your lips as he released his grip around your neck, standing from his position. You watched as he pulled out his phone again, “I’ll be back tomorrow, my pet. Your boyfriend wants me home already.” He cruelly stated while turning his back towards you, smugly chuckling as he heard the sound of your faint sniffles. “Be a good, quiet girl for me while I’m gone, okay?” Turning back only slightly, flashing you that pompous, toothy smile of his. 

You watched him walk away, disappearing into the hallway that he first appeared from, but then popping back out minutes later.  “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you..” He cheerfully began though his eyes were still cold and emotionless, “Don’t even try to escape, y/n. That chain is the strongest I could find, and your collar..” Pointing at the leather that snugly wrapped around your throat, “Is tough to cut, even with scissors- plus it locks from the back.” 

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you watched his wave bye, then disappear into the hallway. Seconds later, the sound of a heavy door slamming shut rang throughout the room. 

Was this really your life now? Were you going to have to spend the rest of your days practically walking on eggshells, shackled to this dingy wall- with an unpredictable maniac?  These questions ran through your mind as you curled up into the tightest ball you could manage, you laid there sobbing until you eventually fell asleep- your dreams were the only way you could escape now, even if it was only for a little. 

Mark’s p.o.v. 

Mark sat there agitated and worried sick.  Where could you be? Why did you leave your bag and phone behind, you’d never leave anywhere without them- so why did you now? Standing from his seat on the couch, he began frantically pacing back and forth as tears formed in the corners of eyes. 

“Hyung..” He heard Yugyeom softly call out to him as he entered the living room. “I just got off the phone with y/n’s mom, she- she hasn’t from her since she left for work this morning..” 

Just hearing the younger mans regretful statement brought him to his knees, though it hadn’t even been a full day that you had gone missing; the fear he felt was indescribable. “Fu-Fuck.. “ He sighed as the tears he attempted to hold back rolled down his cheeks. 

Yugyeom sunk down to the floor beside him, “Hyung.. It’s going to be okay..” He spoke in a hushed, comforting tone while rubbing his back, “We’ll find-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the sound of the front door opening caused Mark to shoot up. “Y/n!?” He called out, running over to the entrance of the dorm. But the moment he saw Jackson standing there, removing his shoes while holding the case of beer he requested- his heart sank.  “I can’t just sit here and do nothing anymore..” Mark suddenly said, as he hastily began walking around the living room; gathering his things. “I- I need to go find her.. She wasn’t feeling good when she was coming home, and there’s supposed to be a storm tonight.” He frantically explained as he searched high and low for his car keys, “She’ll get sick if she’s out in the rain, plus she’s scared of thunder..” 

“No- Hyung, don’t do that.” Jackson replied, offering his hyung a comforting smile as he grabbed his belongings, tossing them on to the couch. “You won’t get anything accomplished if you’re anxious like this.” The younger man smoothly explained while wrapping his arm around Mark’s shoulders. “Look just sit down, have a drink and tomorrow we can all go looking for her- and if she’s not home by then, we can go to the cops.” 

Jinyoung strutted into the room almost out of no where. “Mark.. I kind of hate to admit it but Jackson’s right..” 

Mark nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes, “Yeah I know..” He replied, nodding as he wiped his nose and sniffled, “I know- but just the thought of her out there alone, possibly in danger horrifies me.” 

Jackson pulled him down to the spot on the couch beside him then opened the case- handing him a can, “Here- this will help calm you down.” He said softly, pulling out another and handing it to Yugyeom, then another and offering it to Jinyoung; who politely refused. 

“Jackson..” He suddenly said while taking the drink from him, “You were the only one here during the time y/n went missing..” The loud crack from each of the boys opening their cans filled the room for a second, “Are you sure you didn’t hear or see anything weird?” 

“Yeah..” Jinyoung suddenly cut in while seating himself beside Yugyeom, “Youngjae was telling me you said you heard her talking to her sister or someone over the phone.”  Jackson silently nodded as he took a sip of his beer.  “But..” He continued, showing obvious signs of suspicion, “When Jaebum talked with her, she said she hadn’t spoke with her since ten o’clock this morning..” 

“Well..” Jackson shrugged, taking another calm sip, “I was half asleep when I heard her talking to someone, so I could’ve misinterpreted the whole thing..” He then leaned his head against Mark’s shoulder, “I feel like this is my fault..” 

Mark finally took his first sip, sniffling and clearing his throat afterward. “Why do you say that?” 

“Because..” Jackson pouted, tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, “I should’ve paid more attention, if I had-” He sniffled as tears rolled down his face. “if I had, she’d already be home and none of you would be so worried..” 

Yugyeom scooted closer to his hung, patting his thigh as he attempted to comfort him as well, “It’s not your fault, Jackson-hyung..” He soothingly replied, “There’s no way you could’ve know this would happen..”  

As Jackson sat there sobbing, Youngjae and Jaebum finally came out of there room. “Yah! Why are y’all drinking?” Jaebum asked, taking the open cans away from each of the men. 

“We should be either going out to look for y/n, or resting so we can go out and look for her tomorrow.” Youngjae added, shaking his head at his friends, “Drinking isn’t going to solve anything.” 

“I know, I know..” Mark replied, sighing while wiping his eyes as he stood from his seat, “I- I’m going to bed... Goodnight..” He said with a soft wave then disappeared down the hall. 

Jackson’s p.o.v. 

Taking another, larger gulp of his drink; Jackson sniffled, wiping the remaining tears off his face with the back of his hand. “I feel so bad..” 

“If you felt bad you would’ve paid more attention to her..” Youngjae scoffed, rolling his eyes at his hyung’s act. “So stop with those fake ass tears..” 

“Fake ass tears?” Jackson slightly shouted, tilting his head as he stood from his seat glaring at the younger man. His hands balled up in fists as he stepped closer to him, “Says the one who constantly teased her, maybe you should stop acting like you even give a shit, Youngjae- you were so mean to her after all.”

Youngjae called his bluff, stepping up to the plate as he practically stared down his hyung, “Mean to her? Teased her? She was like my sister you oblivious piece of shit.” He snarled, mentally preparing to fight the older man. 

Jae and Jinyoung finally stepped in, separating the two men, “Yah!” Jinyoung shouted, the commotion finally drawing BamBam out of his room. 

Rushing out into the living room Bam stood between Youngjae and Jackson, attempting to play peacemaker, “Guys.. Come one, please don’t fight..” He weakly pleaded, “We can’t just fall apart like this.. We all need to be strong- not only for Mark, but for y/n. Do you think she’d want to see us like this.” 

Immediately Youngjae nodded, relaxing as he backed off. Shaking his head, the younger man let out an exasperated sigh, “Whatever, do whatever the fuck you guys want- I really don’t care anymore.” He finally said, shooting Jackson a dirty look. “I’m going to bed, I’m going to cops tomorrow.” 

Jinyoung and Jaebum finally relaxing, both men plopped down onto the couch, “Yugyeom..” Jinyoung softly said as he rubbed his temples, “You and Bam should go to your room already..” 

The maknaes nodded in agreement, putting up no fight then walked down the hall together- whispering to one another, probably about how quickly the situation escalated. 

Turning to Jae and Jinyoung, Jackson began apologizing profusely, “Im so sorry- I didn’t mean to let the situation escalate so much..” He said softly, his head hung low as he pretend to feel over bad about everything that has happened, “This is all my fault..” 

The two men sat there, shaking there head.  “Yah, Jackson..” Jae finally said breaking the short silence, “Just go get some rest, we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow..” 

Jackson nodded, combing his fingers through his brunette hair. Standing from his spot, he began making his way to his room, but turned back for a moment, “You two should get some rest, too.. Don’t stay up to late..”  Both men nodded, then wished him goodnight as he walked to his room. 

Once there, hushed giggles flowed out of him. “God there all so fucking stupid..” He whispered to himself while stretching out his arms. Walking over to his bed, he plopped himself down onto the mattress; a smug grin painted on his face- silently patting himself on the back for his acting.  The loud roar of thunder rang throughout his room as the rapid pitter patter of the rain hit his window, suddenly he remembered what Mark said- She’s scared of thunder.. - his lip stay curled up in that twisted grin as he imagined how terrified you must be. God did he wish he could see you right now; you look so pretty when you’re scared. 

To Be Continued..