#so this is just sleep deprived brain vomit

[number-one-siffrin-fan]

I have a headcanon (I don't actually know if this has been talked about within canon so :p) that siffrin was significantly stronger than the rest of the party before losing their eye and after was on about their level, this is why he's an equally destructive force at the beginning of the game and how he save mira and isa, plus it explains why the party relies on them so much, they put him in charge of navigation, leading fights, checking for traps, finding useful items, all of that because the party is just used to relying on his strength.

ANYWAY, that run on sentence is to say I want to see siffrin when they first realized that losing an eye made them weaker and how he reacted the first time he couldn't do something or needed to be saved, I want to see him feel like he needs to take on more to compensate for losing his eye and to treat it like a failure just fswgggegydc

[mitsundere]

TGAA 2 SPOILERS !

my thoughts: albert harebrayne was introduced as a goofy mad scientist with failed logic and a close friend of van zieks but he's more than that. he's a PROFESSOR. he studied in germany and had his work published in a pamphlet. he can work complex mathematical equations. he cares for his invention but not to the point of purposely hurting others for the sake of it. he may not be so talented, but he has the spirit and ambition for it. incredibly passionate in his work. regretful that he was tricked and involved in a murder. he trusts so easily and wholeheartedly that it's both a flaw and his strength. treats van zieks like a true friend even after 10 years of no contact.

the thought that translates into my drawings: hee hee goofy scientist!!!

[dandy-andyyy]

The stories I read, the music I listen to, the movies I watch, they’re all things that truly keep me sane sometimes. When life seems so bleak and daunting and terrifying, I can always fall back on the things I love to help me through it all. If anything, they’re a welcome distraction when I desperately need it. A kind of emotional nourishment that fills up the cracks when I feel like I’m breaking, even if only temporarily. Idk, it all might seem a bit silly and that I’m taking this way too seriously, but I really mean it.

Artists and their creations are so important, especially in these times. And when I ask myself why I make art, I can’t help but feel this sense of overwhelming gratitude for the art that has been there for me throughout my life. So often I question why I draw. Which is usually followed by an overwhelming bout of imposter syndrome, and I spiral into that dangerous territory of self doubt haha. Even now I’m thinking, “why are you writing this? you should have gone to bed hours ago, you’re tired and rambling.”

But idk, I’m tired, I’ve had a rough couple of days, I’m in my feelings so let me live🧍🏻‍♀️All this is to say that I feel like my art is a sort of “thank you” to the media that I love and admire. I love seeing other people’s work and fanart and just obsessing over how they drew a character or interpreted a scene. And it inspires me to keep going, to one day make something that will also touch people’s hearts. A lot of love goes into the creation of something, and I just wanna share that love with an audience, a community, a couple of people, or just one person. Art makes me happy :)

AHHHHHHHH ok the sleep deprivation induced rant is over lol

[akascow]

yanno the more i consider it the more i think jayce started hallucinating in that cave bc he was actually just incredibly sleep deprived... i mean i guess its not like they told us why he hallucinates melvik and i havent rlly seen anyone mention the why of it but like thats my idea at least HAHA

which uhh not only are hallucinations a very real symptom of sleep deprivation (like as early as like 2-3 days w/o sleep), but when considering the like cold rock floor, vomit inducing leg pain, dirty still water and raw lizard guts; he definitely was not in the most comfortable of positions to be sleeping (even if he was extremely tired lmao) also those fuckin Things watching over him while he wastes away. if u knew something was watching you would you be able to get a good nights rest lmfao

which ofc makes that whole scene even more depressing LMAO to me at least idk about yall kjdjlkjs

and it doesnt help that even before he got yeeted into the anomaly he was 1) staying up for multiple nights watching over SourdoughStarter!Viktor trying to figure out whats going on w him n then 2) 'sleeping' in his lab waiting for viktor to come back after their messy divorce scene

and i know he didnt sleep well bc of personal experience HAHA ive had a handful of times where ive been kept awake all night from stomach stuff (cramps or bloating or starving pains u name it lol) so like been there done that i can Relate.

yeah we got shots of him curled up in our signature period cramps pose or like very lethargically laying on the ground, but i can also relate to that bc theres times either in my oops i forgor food days where i just kinda rot in bed all day barely moving OR when im trying to got to sleep but cant so i just close my eyes for 4 hours despite my brain being awake the whole time and just existing between states of consciousness while not actively resting at all

and while we're here ik he has a bunch of things on his mind to theoretically cry about, but i have definitely cried from frustration of not being able to sleep like a good chunk of times in my life HAHA so

like omfg he hasnt had a decent sleep in MONTHS yall fhsjdjkdshkfj

[phantomposting]

Ayo it's time for another half asleep sleep deprived prompt rant let's gooooo! Please excuse any typos or grammar errors I haven't slept more than 2hrs in the past 24hrs and I'm suffering from a hard-core bout of insomnia and a accidentally burned myself. But anyways let's get into the rant starting with trigger warnings!

TW: BLOOD, VOMIT, SICKNESS, FOOD INSECURITY, ABUSE

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

So I have been absolutely obsessed with blood blossoms used in angst fics since I first joined the fandom. I also see them as a great way to make a fun sickfic or a amazing tool for darker fics to use to trap or harm our favorite boyo. I read.the most amazing blood blossom poisoning fic recently tho and it absolutely gave me the brain itch again to theorize more about blood blossom aus!

So in this au Tim Drake and Danny are dating they've been doing well for the most part but when Tim asks to meet Danny's parent's he's super avoident of it. It's been making Tim feel as if Danny doesn't see this as a serious relationship that or he's hiding something and Tim needs to figure out what.

Danny of course as Vlad's godson is the heir to his company even tho he definitely doesn't want it. Atleast getting dragged into rich people shenanigans led to Danny meeting his boyfriend whom he is absolutely head over heels for.

Tim keeps asking to meet his parents but Danny doesn't want them to ruin things. They don't even know how old he is anymore for Ancients sake. They've acted like he isn't even there since Jazz went to college Danny's had to fend for himself and them essentially turning into a bit of a parent/guardian for them. Paying bills, making sure they eat, ect. But he can only do so much and between it all he doesn't get much time or enough money to eat as often as he should. It's a real mess. He definitely doesn't want Tim seeing that and worrying either so he keeps coming up with excuses to make sure the Fenton parents never meet him or his family.

Vlad is super upset with Danny for getting so close with his biggest competition. He continously demands the boy behave and to dump that leech before he swipes all of Vlad's hard work from right under his nose. Danny could absolutely care less. The boy is really getting on Vlad's final nerve being his sweet Madeline's kid means nothing if he's just going to act like another Jack. The world absolutely needs no more Jack's in it.

Finally cutting his losses with this kid Vlad devises a plan to once and for all get rid of the little brat. He will take blood blossom extract and poison the useless heir of his at the next gala.

The ingredient tho extremely rare can be common for the super wealthy. It's always been quite the nuisance for him but now there's finally a perk to that damn flower. None will be the wiser the death will be ruled as either an allergic reaction to a rare ingredient the child had never encountered enough to know of or they'll learn of Daniel's ghost side and not anyone will care thinking a ghost had taken the poor kids place.

Vlad will get pity among his peers and possibly finally gain the chance to overshadow the Wayne's and finally take them out of the game once and for all. Maddie will blame Jack for such a accident vlad will be sure to make it so. With nothing left to hold her back and a newly loveless marriage she will finally turn to him they'll create a new family with the perfect son and nothing will stop him from living his happily ever after. It was the perfect plan in Vlad's mind.

So the next Gala comes around. Danny and Tim have a big and accidentally rather public argument about Danny's parent's and this leads Danny to storm off alone to try and cool off. This ends up being the perfect time for Vlad to corner the boy.

He gives Danny an ultimatum dump Tim and join him or else. Danny refuses. " oh nieve little badger... you really should have taken me up on the offer." He shakes his head as he pins the boy to the wall by the collar of his shirt and injects him with the poison.

Soon Danny is left alone curled in a writhing ball of pain upon the floor as the blood blossoms burn at his insides ripping him apart from inside to out. A silent ball of agony as he doesn't know what to do. He can't risk anyone finding out about his ghostly side not even Tim. He can't access his powers. He can't escape. All feels hopeless and he feels doomed to fade here.

Meanwhile Tim begins to get worried usually Danny takes a bit of time but he always comes back pretty quickly then both apologize for the argument and move on. Tim's definitely feeling pretty guilty for this one pushing him so hard. He just wants this relationship to be as normal as it can be. For once in his life he's having a pretty average civilian life and weirdly enough he's thriving with it. He understands tho that some people aren't on good terms with their parents but Danny always only ever really says nice things about his parents and its starting to make Tim feel like he's just not good enough to meet them.

But either way Tim begins to worry he drove Danny off so he goes to look for him to apologize for pushing him so hard. He wasn't really expecting to find Danny in a secluded room all alone curled up against a wall looking smaller than he's ever looked before. Almost looking as if he were hiding tears. It honestly broke Tim's heart to see him like this. Tim definitely wasn't expecting that when he started to apologize that Danny would look up at him with way too much blood to be okay dripping from his nose.

Danny was bleeding quite a bit. His eyes were unfocused and Lazarus green and absolutely filled with fear. Tears dripped down his far too pale cheeks as he tried to focus on Tim. His breathing was harsh and heavy and clearly pained. He looked as if he were in agony.

This immediately sends Tim into panic mode. Wtf happened while he was gone? How did he get into contact with Lazarus water?? Is his boyfriend dying??? Tim starts going into hero mode trying to figure out how to help Danny. They make a quick stealthy escape of the gala and Danny refuses a hospital trip. Tim won't push too hard cause clearly Lazarus water is somewhere in the mix.

So they go to the only person Tim can think of. Doctor Leslie! There's a lot of panic from everyone and delirious rambling from Danny until eventually they finally figure out he's been poisoned. Somehow miraculously they manage to cure said poison and save Tim's boyfriend.

Or so they think turns out they only really slow/pause the blood blossoms effects. Danny has extensive physical damage from the blood blossoms eating away at everything and Tim thinks Danny was poisoned with Lazarus water. He makes Danny stay with him in his apartment for awhile to monitor him and his condition and keep his eye out for the one that poisoned him and keep him safe.

Vlad makes a huge stink about Danny going missing leading to some big search for the missing heir. Its all a huge mess!

Slowly over time this sickfic with tons of sweet fluff moments and stuff would reveal why Danny isn't keen on introducing his parents to Tim. Tim would learn Danny's parent's are super neglectful and possibly downright evil judging by all the scars his poor boyfriend is left with. Not to mention he's far too thin! Thinner than Tim expected cause with his clothes on sure he looks rather slim but you would never guess the poor guynwas just skin and bone. Its deeply worrying.

There would be lots of moments where Danny is avoident on details and it only makes Tim's detective brain itch more for answers. Slowly but surely they learn aswell that Danny's body is never going to fully work the same either. Over time they even realize it's very Slowly worsening making them discover the blood blossom isn't fully cured.

Then comes the big search for a cure and Tim going full mama bird for his bf! We also get a slow ghost reveal, giw reveal, and reveal that Vlad's evil and Tim is absolutely going to rip that man apart for doing this to his poor boyfriend.

There's absolutely tons th8s fic could cover and it's absolutely dealer's choice on what and how they would want to cover it! I would absolutely go feral to see this prompt used :D you could even get into some league of assassin's chaos or giw chaos with everything else going on! The possibilities are endless :D

[lovelyhan]

— ode to you ⟢

if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.

or: 25 lives in which you find and don't find jeonghan.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 6.9k words

★ TAGS; reincarnation, multiple lives, pining, angst, suggestive scenes but no smut, sooo many tropes

★ WARNINGS; mentions of blackmail, implied murder, implied depression, mentions of puking/vomiting, mentions of car accidents major character death

★ NOTES; i was supposed to work on my collab fics but i feel like i've gotten a little rusty w my prose so i wrote this as a little writing exercise of sorts :D i've written for other fandoms in this format before and i thought it was high time i did the same for seventeen with my ult of all ults <3 i hope you enjoy!

this is inspired by tongari's 25 lives

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti–red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon

★ JEONGHAN TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @bias-recs - @lunaryoongie

01. the very first time i remember you, you are blonde and you don’t love me back.

One strict rule that you make sure to uphold with all of your clients is that business comes first before all else.

You're a well-known freelancer that lands gigs left and right from high-end fashion brands and magazines alike. The only way your career managed to survive in such a cut-throat industry is because of the strict professionalism you never failed to maintain.

That's until you meet Jeonghan for the first time.

Fluffy blonde hair framing his face, curling just along the edges. Slanted eyes that crinkle just a bit whenever he smiles. And a lazy grin that betrays just how nonchalant he is about the entire thing. Like he knows he's gorgeous he is and how everyone else in the vicinity is aware of the fact, too.

You've worked with a handful of people with breathtaking features in in the past, but there doesn't seem to be any word in any language that could encapsulate just how mesmerizing Jeonghan is.

For the first time in your career, you find yourself wanting to reach for the subject being captured by the lens of your camera. Just to make sure he was an actual person and not some doll crafted from fine silk and porcelain. The fact that he's modeling with a bouquet of lush flowers does little to your peace of mind.

But your innate professionalism overrules whatever nonsensical desires your sleep-deprived brain could conjure in that moment.

Once you're satisfied with the material you've come up with, you're quick to dismiss Jeonghan and the rest of the team, and call it a day. You have another shoot to oversee in less than two hours and you'd like to avoid the rush hour traffic if you can.

Yet, despite your urgency, you stop halfway to the door to the studio—casting a sidelong glance at the person who's supposed to be one of your temporary colleagues and none else.

"Jeonghan," you call out, his name tasting bittersweet on your tongue. "It was nice working with you today."

He barely glances up at you from the soft glow of his phone screen, not even a smile spared your way.

"Yeah, sure."

02. the next time, you are brunette, and you do.

Yoon Jeonghan is the biggest menace you've met in your life.

Not only does he keep stealing your parking space in the office basement and plucks off the last brownie in the pantry during break time, but he's after the promotion you've been vying after for months, too.

Needless to say, he's public enemy number one in your eyes, and all your colleagues are well aware of the scorching rivalry you two constantly waged in the workspace.

But on the night before you're set to present the proposal that you swear up and down would make your superiors choose you over that sniveling prick, the Devil himself swoops into your cubicle with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Do you really not see it?"

You frown at him as you shove your laptop into your bag with an air of irritation. "See what? That they're going to select you for the promotion? I don't, actually. That's why I'm—"

The words promptly melt on your tongue when Jeonghan forces a hand on divider separating your space with the others—trapping you with a sleazy look on his face. His dark brown tresses fall across his piercing eyes but you force yourself to hold your ground.

In the midst of it all, a moment's worth of familiarity crosses your mind.

Blonde hair styled to perfection. A bouquet of flowers just as beautiful as the man that models for them.

How long has it been since then?

"Can't you see that I'm only doing all this to get your attention?" he chuckles. "I've always known you're a bit slow on the uptake, but you might need an extra push in the right direction."

You gulp nervously. "W-What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan shakes his head, amusement dancing across his features in a way that makes you want to smack him, if not for the laws imposed on the land.

"Have dinner with me tonight and I'll withdraw from the competition" he propositions. "How's that sound?"

...Isn't this blackmail? It definitely sounds like blackmail.

But despite knowing that you should just bring your knee up to smash into his family jewels, your face heats up with the implications of his offer instead.

An offer that you begrudgingly accept.

03. after a while i give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything.

"Really?"

Jeonghan grins when he steps into your apartment sporting his newest dye job. You're perfectly aware that idols these days get the most outrageous hair colors, but you didn't think his stylist would be daring enough to pull off long purple hair for Jeonghan just a few months after his group's debut.

Over the years, Jeonghan cycles through a lot more colors than you'd ever thought he'd be willing to try. Blonde, pink, red, brown, silver—all of them, he pulls off with grace.

Even when his idol days are over, he still gets bouts of wanting to march into the nearest salon for another makeover, and you rectify this by just buying the cheapest bleaching kits online despite his whines in protest.

"Our stylist noonas would've been alright with a house call." He pouts just a little as you force him to sit still. "It might come out all patchy."

"Do you have so little faith in your partner's bleaching skills?" you huff, dipping the brush you have in one hand into the bowl of sharp-smelling bleaching mix in the other. "Your stylists noonas charge a fortune, too. We're better off doing it ourselves."

Jeonghan laughs. "You act like we can't afford it."

Turns out, you fucked up the portions of your little bleach concoction and your harmless session resulted into googling first aid for bleaching burns and soaking Jeonghan's scalp with coconut oil for the rest of the day.

"Sorry," you mumble as you help rinse out the oil the next morning. "Do you want to contact your stylist or head to a salon instead?"

Despite your wary disposition, Jeonghan merely breathes out a chuckle, taking your hand in his as he meets your eyes in the bathroom mirror.

There, two rings glimmer in the morning light—the one he shares with his twelve brothers and the one you slid onto his index on the day of your wedding.

"I've been through worse, love. This is nothing," he insists before pressing a soft kiss across your knuckles. "Let's just let my scalp rest for a few days before we dye it, okay?"

You shake your head with a laugh. Really, what are you supposed to do with this man?

"If you insist."

04. because even when you don’t exist, i'm still in love with you.

"You got my name wrong again."

In the middle of packing a takeout bag for the food delivery guy waiting in the corner of the café, you look up to some familiar college kid standing in front of the counter with a furrow on his brow. A regular, maybe.

"Sorry?" you ask, brain a little too frazzled to make sense of what he was trying to say.

Said college kid shows you the underside of his cup—the name Jeonghan scribbled hastily onto the material.

"My name's Jeongin," he sighs. "I've been coming here everyday and I swear, you always get it wrong."

"Well, I'm so sorry, Jeongin, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," you manage to wrench out before calling out to the delivery guy, saying the order was ready for pick-up.

Funnily enough, you end up living together with Jeongin by some twist of fate. Your shoes are lined up with his outside the apartment, toothbrushes lying in the same cup in the bathroom, and you even steal his hoodies every now and again.

But what you don't tell your boyfriend of five years is how you still dream of the man whose name brought you together in the first place.

A man who you don't get the pleasure to meet in this life, much like a dozen others that came before.

05. i remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together

In the past (though its definition is a little...unique in your case), you were convinced that just because Jeonghan is the sole singularity to which your existence is anchored to, that doesn't necessarily mean you'll get to have him and him alone in each life.

Yet in this one, you're fully convinced that he's the only person who'll ever have your heart.

It's on a cold, winter afternoon when you realize that you're in love with the boy that showed you how to cross the monkey bars in elementary school. The boy who gives you his packed lunch whenever you forget yours at home. The boy who taught you how to pick locks so you could sneak into his father's liquor shop and get drunk behind the counter.

Jeonghan has always been a fascinating person in whatever life you meet him. But now that you've got a taste of what it feels to grow up alongside him—witnessing him transition from a snotty kid to a troublesome adult—you can't picture yourself wanting anyone else.

He's rightfully startled when you confess your feelings merely minutes after having realized them. You've lived through this endless cycle of meeting and parting ways enough times to know that there's no room for uncertainty.

And each time he accepts you with open arms, the relief that washes over you feels like the first time all over again.

06. when i share my secrets and sorrows and hiding places with you.

There are times when you're the one who doesn't remember the lives you've lived in the seemingly endless cycle.

When you meet Jeonghan in this life, it's with shoulders carrying the weight of emotional baggage and dreams that have been crushed right before your eyes. It's an understatement to say that you're inexplicably drawn to him as if he's a beacon in the dark. But even if you're yet to remember, Jeonghan has always been easy to trust. Easy to fall into.

One night is particularly heavier than the rest. Your meds aren't kicking in the way they're supposed to and it's raining much too harshly to pay your comfort person a late night visit.

Yet when you call your boyfriend as you choke on your own tears, he's at your door in half an hour—paper bags full of all your favorite snacks in hand with a smile that feels like a ray of sunlight amidst a raging storm.

But he's quick to drop all of it and pull you into a hug when he sees the mess you are in the living room.

"I'm a bad person," you sob into his chest, clinging to the fabric of his jacket as he placates you in his tender embrace. "I'm s-selfish and always just think about myself. I've done so many terrible things, Hannie... How could you even love someone like me?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer right away. He calms you down for the better part of an hour before rising to get you a glass of water in the kitchen. Your boyfriend watches with quiet attentiveness until the look on your face tells him that you're ready to talk again.

"So what if you're a bad person, love?" he murmurs before planting a kiss on your forehead. "Tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway."

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh. "Which cheesy pocketbook did you pull that one out of?"

"Hey, I drove for thirty minutes in the rain and this is how you thank me?" He huffs before reaching for a bag of chips he haphazardly strewn across the coffee table, tearing it open and offering you a piece. "I read that on Pinterest, by the way."

07. i love how you play along with my bad ideas

In many, many lives, Jeonghan is not yours to love.

And that's okay. There isn't a fine print stating that because you're blessed (cursed?) to meet him in each lifetime, you're meant to be together against all odds.

Fate is fickle like that—so unpredictable that you never really know how to act whenever you do cross paths with Jeonghan eventually.

Still, even if you're not destined to be lovers, you can still love him in other ways.

Like helping him sneak out of his third period lecture so he can come watch local street performers hold a fundraising show in some underground bar. You do all this because he once told you that he wanted to support them in any way he could.

If only Jeonghan could see the grin on his face that gets wider with each dancer that takes the stage, he wouldn't have a hard time wondering why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"So when's the next time you'll help me sneak out of a lecture?" Jeonghan asks as the two of you head back to campus at a mellow pace even if Jeonghan's next classes starts in ten minutes.

You hum as if genuinely contemplating. "Maybe after you do me a huge favor in return for this one."

Your shoulders bump together as he lets out an easygoing laugh. As the late afternoon sunlight filters through a canopy of trees and onto your best friend's face, you feel a tug at your heartstrings that urges you to pull him in for a kiss.

But you don't.

08. before you grow up and realize that they’re bad ideas.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Jeonghan's voice sounds considerably spooked when the amusement park staff locks in the over-the-shoulder restraints. The buzz of excitement from other visitors rings in your ears and he seems to be the only person that isn't looking forward to being on a rollercoaster.

"You act like this is the first time you've been on one." You roll your eyes. "Just relax and feel the wind on your face, yeah? If it gets too much just hold my hand or whatever."

You should not have offered in the first place because by the time the you've made two trips around the wildly looped tracks, you're convinced Jeonghan has already cut any and all circulation to your fingers with how tightly he's gripping your hand.

But still...you can't deny that it feels a little nice to be needed by him.

09. (and in our lives together i have many, many bad ideas.)

“Do I know you?” 

Jeonghan makes the mistake of blurting out those very strange words when he catches you sitting right next to him at the bar. You startle when he breaks the ice, fully convinced you're the one who had to initiate when you deliberately slid into the stool to his right.

Amused, you study him without much of a real expression before the tension in your posture melts into gentle laughter.

“No,” you say with a tone that suggests you're making fun of him. “But we could get out of here so we can get to know each other better. What’s your name?”

A dozen expressions flit across Jeonghan's face in mere seconds and you would've laughed again if you didn't know the reason behind the perplexity of his reactions.

“It’s Jeonghan. But you can call me…”

Before he can get the rest of the pick-up line out, he promptly throws up all over your outfit.

10. when we meet as adults, you're always much more discerning. I don't blame you.

"Again."

Your sweat beads across your forehead and drips onto the floor as you catch your breath. Palms braced across your knees, you look up to your mentor with a resentful glare.

In this life, Jeonghan—who was considered part of the 'anemic line' in his group eternities ago—is now one of the most well-known choreographers in the industry and would probably put Soonyoung to shame with how much of a perfectionist he is when it comes to your routines.

"Can't I get a five-minute water break?" you plead.

"You can get one when you think you deserve it," he says flatly before crossing his legs. "Do you?"

Much to your chagrin, you're just as much of a perfectionist as he is in this life. You shake your head with a guttural sigh, forcing yourself back into position despite your muscles aching for a break.

You don't miss the way Jeonghan smiles at your display of determination, but you don't let yourself think much of it either.

11. yet, always, you forgive me.

Jeonghan is upset with you.

He has all the right to be, really. You promised that you'll leave enough candy bars from your Trick or Treat haul to last both of you for a week, but you ended up overeating while binging your afternoon cartoons and now there's only one stick of chocolate left in the hollow, pumpkin-shaped bucket.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "Do you want to go to the candy store to buy some more? I can break my piggy bank if—"

"No, you're saving up for that new game on your Nintendo DS, right?"

The fact that he actually remembers that makes you gape at him. "Um, yeah, but it's no big deal. A candy bar is only worth a few—"

Not giving you any leeway to speak any further, Jeonghan grabs the last candy bar inside the bucket—tearing the packaging open with his teeth before breaking the chocolate in half in the middle. Despite his annoyance, he hands you the other half with a small pout.

"Then just keep saving up so we can play it together," he grumbles and even when he's barely eight years old, it comes so natural for him to show you how much he cares about you.

12. as if you understand what’s going on

"Do you go here often?"

You flash the stranger who's speaking to you a befuddled look—not expecting to hear a line typically used on you in bars at your father's yacht club, of all places. He's wearing tattered jeans and an atrocious pink flannel over an equally tattered shirt. You wonder if he's just going for an odd aesthetic or if he's in dire need of a closet makeover.

"No. I'm just waiting for my father," you tell the man honestly before glancing at the boats docked by the pier. "He bought another yacht that I'm sure he won't even think of after bragging about it to his friends."

The stranger laughs. "I know how you feel. My old man's just as materialistic as yours sounds."

Oh. Maybe he is just going for an odd aesthetic with his fit after all.

"Wouldn't have thought you were a nepo baby, too," you snort before kicking a lone pebble into the water—watching it sink into the depths until it's out of sight. "I thought you were one of the boys that maintain these things while their owners completely forget about them."

"Hmm, I can be anything you want me to be," he chuckles and even if you've only met this guy five minutes ago, something about his laughter sounds so oddly familiar.

"The name's Jeonghan, by the way." The not-so stranger smiles and the feeling that you know him from somewhere intensifies tenfold.

"What's yours?"

13. and you're making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist

You like to think of yourself as an independent person.

You've crossed literal lifetimes in the strangest rendition of immortality that you've never once read in all the books you've deigned to pick up in this never-ending eternity. It's only natural for you to be self-sufficient.

But when it comes to Jeonghan, you always get to refamiliarize yourself with what it feels like to be lonely.

There are things about him that you consider irreplaceable: the curve of his easygoing smile, the warmth of his slender fingers, and the touch you yearn for constantly.

You're perfectly aware that you don't need Jeonghan for all these lives to gain some semblance of meaning. In fact, it's in the lives where you don't meet him that you get to learn a thing or two about yourself.

But when he is there, when he's the reason you get out of bed everyday, you simply think that a second of being with Jeonghan in the flesh is worth more than a lifetime in his absence.

14. and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

Your phone is pressed into your ear in the middle of the grocery store because your good friend Joshua thought it was the perfect time to rant about his insufferable boss.

Being the lovely person that you are, you let him talk your ear off as you parse through the cabbages on display—wondering which one you should bring home for salad night.

"He's such a fucking prick, you know?" Joshua groans out the same sentence for the third time since you picked up his call. "No wonder his wife is having an affair behind his back. That's karmic retribution if I've seen it.''

"Shua, have you ever considered just resigning instead of making me your therapist?"

"I have, it's just that finding a new job is way more of a hassle than dealing with my asshole boss everyday," he grumbles. "But about the therapist thing—thanks for always listening to me. I know I can be annoying at times but you always put up with it any..."

Joshua's voice fades into the backdrop of your mind when you spot a flash of pink in the corner of your eyes. You instinctively turn your head in the direction of a stranger running towards the exit of the supermarket—wearing an atrocious pink flannel that you would recognize anywhere in any lifetime.

You briefly apologize to Joshua before ending the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your jeans before leaving your push cart to chase after the figure receding from your line of sight.

You just barely catch him hopping onto a bus when your instincts lead you to further outside. You would have sprinted for a ride, had it not been for the children that obstruct your path with a little game of tag.

By the time you finally shake them off, the bus has already driven past the intersection—snuffing out the candle, leaving you in the dark.

15. i hate those. i prefer the ones in which you kill me.

You've watched a dozen serial killer documentaries in your lifetime—well, lifetimes. They always start the same way: a psychopath with a way with words charming his next unsuspecting victim into their utter demise.

While you absolutely did not know that this life's Jeonghan will turn out to be a crazed lunatic that gets off on seeing another human being's blood on his hands, it doesn't really change the fact that your heart is still tethered to him despite.

He still smiles as sweetly as you can remember as the tip of his knife glides along the column of your throat. His voice is just as comforting in those lives where he'd never forget to kiss you good night right before going to sleep.

"You're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Jeonghan murmurs. "But you'd be so much prettier if you just lay still."

The last thing you remember seeing is the angelic look on his face as if he's the one who'll personally escort you to the next life.

You don't particularly mind.

16. but when all's said and done, i'd rather surrender to you in other ways.

It's only amidst the post-orgasmic clarity that you realize how much of a fool you are.

These quick trysts you share with Jeonghan are brief. He invites you over under the guise of something that isn't sex for the sake of propriety, only to pull you into his apartment and kiss you until stars danced behind your eyelids.

He's flicks the cigarette he's having on the ashtray as he complains about a coworker he's been trying to get with for the past month. She likes playing hard-to-get, but I like her so much that I don't really mind? Is that weird? Oh, do you want a smoke, too? Sure, let me light you a quick one in a sec—

You're a fool because you've spent dozens, if not hundreds of lives chasing after him—whether you yourself are aware of it or not.

To Jeonghan, this is a life he probably won't remember in the next. To you, it's another inescapable death sentence.

"Maybe you should drop the nice guy act," you suggest before taking a drag of your own—not caring how the ashes stain Jeonghan's crisp white sheets despite his protests. "Showing your true colors is what got you to land me, you know."

"And we all know how much of a catch you are." He winks before killing his cigarette on the ashtray.

You're about to respond with an eyeroll until he plucks the cancer stick off your hands as well, disposing of it the same way he did with his own. When Jeonghan maneuvers himself on top of you again, you let out a withering sigh.

"Maybe I should just date you instead," he giggles before leaning down to nip at your ear, slender arms coiling around your waist. "What do you think?"

"You already told me before that I wasn't your ideal partner, asshole," you remind him with a huff.

Jeonghan hums, a noncommittal sound that seems like there's something else layered underneath. "But what if I told you that already changed?"

It's enticing—the possibility of getting to have him again when you couldn't really call him yours right now. But you know better than to take things that aren't meant for you.

At least, not in this life.

"Stop saying silly things and just fuck me already," you grumble, already tugging off his boxers. "Then you'll delete my number right after so you can finally get with the woman of your dreams. Got that?"

17. even though each time, i know i'll see you again, i always wonder

You've always looked forward to summer.

No more grueling classes. No more deadlines to catch up on. Summer means you get to go back to your hometown for a few weeks, unwinding in ways that your usual schedules don't quite permit you to.

Summer also means you'll get to visit Jeonghan again.

Your mother already has food and flowers prepared in advance—saying Mrs. Yoon kicked up a huge fuss when she found out you were going back home this weekend. You receive the news with fond laughter, noting how the flowers Jeonghan's mother picked out are reminiscent of the ones he held in the very first life you met him.

"I'm graduating next year," is the first thing you tell Jeonghan when you arrive, popping open two ice cold sodas before settling yourself on the grass in front of him. "Can you believe it? Four years of college, just gone in a flash. If you actually went through with your performing arts scholarship, you'd know how I feel."

"I'm thinking of getting a job here instead of the city. You know, so you won't feel too lonely without me," you chuckle, the moisture of your drink beading across your fingers. "Although, your sister keeps insisting that they give you plenty of company already and that I should chase after my own dreams first. She's starting to sound a lot like you, you know that?"

Jeonghan doesn't respond. Of course he doesn't. But you can almost hear his stilted laughter in the warm breeze anyway.

You place the flowers and the cola in front of his gravestone with a bittersweet pang in your chest. But before the tears can get the chance to escape, you turn on your heel and leave the cemetery altogether.

You didn't always look forward to summer after the accident that took the love of your life away. But knowing that your best friend—your soulmate—would simply be waiting for you in the next life, things became much, much easier.

18. is this the last time?

"Don't go..."

Jeonghan murmurs the words between drunken hiccups as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckle, smoothing your hand across his sweater-clad back as he clings to you like a koala.

"Hannie, what do you mean?" you whisper as you glance at the mess of empty bottles you'll have to clean up from the coffee table once you put your boyfriend to bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls away from you briefly, puffy eyes glistening with tears as he lets out a shuddering sigh.

"I had a dream that you left me for some guy named...Jeongin, or whatever," he mumbles. "I promise I'll treat you better than anyone else. Just don't...leave me."

In some way, he remembers. Not everything because even you don't completely recall all the lives you've lived. There's too many of them now, most of which are too painful to think about all over again.

But this is the first actual instance where Jeonghan unknowingly hints that his past lives stay with him even beyond death, and it makes you wonder if he'll start to remember the others in time as well.

"I won't, Hannie," you whisper, weaving the words into a promise that you'll be sure to keep in the next life, and the hundreds of lives that will inevitably follow.

"I won't."

19. is that really you? 

There are lifetimes where you try, but it just doesn't work out.

Sometimes, fate carves both you and Jeonghan into mismatched pieces of two different puzzles, and he doesn't even try to convince you to stay as you quietly pack away your belongings in dull brown boxes. The tension in your movements tells him that you knows he's watching.

"I'm not getting back together with you, if that's what you're wondering," you rasp. "If you love your job more than me, then I'll be the one to see myself out." 

Jeonghan manages a sad smile that you completely miss—having been so caught up with your frustration with him to look. You thought that in each life he ends up becoming a world-famous idol, it meant that he'd also live all of his days with you by his side.

But things aren't always that simple, and Jeonghan merely stands in resignation as you shut the door to both his house and your heart. 

20. and what if you're already perfectly happy without me?

When you took up a job as an events coordinator, never in your wildest dreams did you expect to be planning Jeonghan's wedding, of all things.

He doesn't seem to remember you and you don't really fault him for not recognizing someone he's met literal lifetimes ago. Not when he's obviously so enamored with his current fiancé.

"We were interested in the deluxe package on your website," Seungcheol, his intended, breaks the ice after the formal introductions, showing you a screenshot on his phone. "Is this inclusive of a lights and sound system or will we have to outsource those somewhere else?"

You nearly miss what Seungcheol was asking you—too caught up in how beautiful Jeonghan looks today. He's grown out his hair longer than he usually does and it's half pinned behind his head.

When it takes you a while to respond, both his and Seungcheol's gazes flicker with confusion before your heart sinks with how in tune they are with each other.

"Y-Yes, lights and sounds are already included in the package." You compose yourself with a warm smile. "But you might be interested in the royalty package. This would give you access to..."

21. ah, but i don’t blame you.

"Baby, I'm sorry."

Jeonghan looks like a kicked puppy sitting at the side of the hospital bed with how apologetic he is. You want to tell him that it really is no big deal but with the lower half of your body temporarily paralyzed, you can't really say that's the case.

"I shouldn't have insisted that you come to the music show when it was raining," he groans. "It's a miracle you managed to swerve out of the truck's way."

You wonder if he remembers the life where you lost him to an accident not so different from the one you narrowly escaped last night. The absolute fear in his eyes the moment he saw you covered in casts and bandages is reminiscent of the time you received the phone call informing you of your boyfriend's passing.

But you don't make it a habit to ponder too long about lives that have long come to an end. What's important is now, where you're still living and breathing and able to remain by his side.

"It's not your fault, Hannie," you murmur as you reach out to pet his head with some difficulty. "I shouldn't have gone past the speed limit in the first place."

"Well, you wouldn't have to do that if I wasn't being so pushy about you showing up," he sighs in defeat. "Tell you what, I'll pull out of all our comeback schedules until you can walk by yourself again."

You frown at him. "What? No! Your managers are going to kill you."

"They will, but knowing you'll be all alone while you recover will kill me inside too."

Jeonghan isn't usually this cheeky with you, so you keep this memory tucked away in your consciousness for as long as you can. Knowing there's no talking him out of it once he's got his mind set, you shake your head with a defeated sigh.

"You better take care of me like they do in those five star nursing homes then."

22. i’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. 

Your favorite lives, you think, are the ones where he lights up the stage and the entire world as an idol.

He's happiest in these kinds of lives. The bond he shares with the rest of his bandmates transcends even the love you've harbored for him through lifetimes, and if there are people you'll gladly surrender Jeonghan to, it's those twelve boys that will always be his brothers no matter what.

"How was that?"

You're in the middle of giving out stage directions for the next round of performers when Jeonghan walks up to you with his signature, lazy smile. He's sweat-stricken with a stutter to each breath he takes, but he makes himself appear just as composed as he wants you to think.

"Breathtaking as always, Jeonghan," you decide to humor him—knowing that the sooner you give him a compliment, the sooner he'll leave you alone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to—"

"Will you be busy after the show? I wanted to cook dinner for us at home."

A panicked look seizes your face when you gesture for him to keep it down. Your eyes dart around the vicinity—idols and their stylists running around backstage in preparation for the next segment of the show. None of them seemed to have picked up on Jeonghan's little slip of the tongue.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" you whisper sharply over the sound of another fellow stage director paging you in the south entrance. "Anyways, I have to go, Hannie. And please don't go blabbing about our relationship where you shouldn't."

When that idiotically handsome smile doesn't fade from his lips, you know things won't exactly go your way as usual.

23. it's only fair that i should be the one

At some point, you stop counting altogether.

The lives you live with and without Jeonghan blend seamlessly into each other the longer the cycle repeats itself. It doesn't hurt as much when you don't find him, but your heart still gushes with relief when you do.

And yet there are instances where you try to spit in the face of fate itself. Instances where you decide that you don't want to be chained to Jeonghan anymore. That the lives you live belong to you and that you won't let some otherworldly force dictate the course of it any longer.

One day in the summer, in some petty attempt to cheat your way out of fate, you decide to date your next door neighbor.

Sujin has the same eyes as Jeonghan—it’s something you can’t really look past. Maybe that’s what makes it so easy for her to wear down your defenses without breaking a sweat.

But the moment the thought crosses your mind, you wipe out every similarity until you can’t see them anymore. They almost look the same apart from gender, but Sujin is so different from Jeonghan, that for a while, you forget about the burden you've been carrying all this time.

One day in the fall, Sujin talks about meeting her brother for dinner, and you don't really ponder about it—agreeing without a hitch.

But that’s only the first of your many mistakes because the man who walks into the restaurant is Jeonghan. Sujin’s brother, the person who’s kissing your girlfriend on the cheek, is Jeonghan. 

“Did you know that Sujin never shut up about you when you brought her the housewarming gift?” Jeonghan snorts before ordering a glass of wine. “Hmm, you look kind of familiar, though… Have we met before?”

“No,” you respond almost instantly.

It doesn’t work. Your master plan of waging war with destiny is rendered utterly useless when Jeonghan bruises his way back into your life. Where Sujin managed to ease herself past the walls you've put up after a few weeks, Jeonghan tears them down in half the time his sister took to pick you apart. 

One day in the winter, Sujin breaks up with you, and in spite of the coil of emotions twisting in your chest, you watch her pack her things and move back into the apartment across the hall. 

One day in the spring, there’s a knock on your front door that you're in no hurry to answer. You stare at Jeonghan with equal parts irritation and relief when you see him there. His grin reminds you of flowers unfurling as he stares back with a challenge in his eyes.

A challenge you loathe, but one you can never refuse.

24. to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

Your head is resting on Jeonghan's lap when he poses the question, and you think the fact that your eyes are closed is already an answer on its own.

You used to think you were cursed. Maybe you've incurred enough bad karma in your very first life to provide you with a steady stream of misfortune in the next few million lives you're destined to live.

That could be the reason why you have to live all these lives, meet all these people—rinse and repeat. Is this how the gods are punishing you? Is there anyway to atone for sins you can't even remember committing anymore?

Though…when you open your eyes and see Jeonghan staring out into the distance, you have a hard time thinking of him as a punishment. 

You sit upright and stretch out your limbs. There’s a kink in the back of your neck that might be resolved by a good night’s sleep, but you offer Jeonghan a hand before you can think about it any more.

“No,” you answer as you twines your fingers together, pulling him back to his feet as he spares you a loving smile.

“Not really.”

25. until i find the one where you'll return to me.

"That bouquet's really pretty."

Jeonghan glances behind him with a confused look—frustration clear on his face from trying to get the new stove he had installed in your kitchen last week to start. When his eyes land on the beautiful spill of flowers bundled up in a vase on the dining table, his features soften with fondness.

"Those are the flowers I had when you met me the first time, right?" he chuckles before taking a seat next to you. "The one where I was a 'prick of a model who wouldn't even bat you an eyelash'?"

Your chest bubbles with laughter at his description. You've grown more and more comfortable with telling Jeonghan about the lives you've shared in eternities that have long unspooled, and just when you feared he'd treat you like someone who escaped an asylum, he instead took all your words to heart.

He doesn't quite remember them all on his own, but when you bring up little pieces from old memories you do manage to dredge up, he's able to complete the pieces of the story to form a coherent picture.

Maybe that's what Jeonghan is to you—someone that isn't exactly necessary to have in your life, but someone who makes it infinitesimally better.

If there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that Jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. He can be crass. He can be secretive. He can be nothing short of vexing.

But he can also be kind, considerate, and present in times when you need him the most.

In the end, he's everything you need him to be.

And you couldn't ask for anything more.

⟢ end notes: me: this is a writing exercise, the word count: pushing 7k :') ok so this wasn't proofread even in the slightest so if you spot any mistakes and errors, no you didn't <3 thank you for joining me in this very self indulgent train of delusion!

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Hello, have you also been struck with an inane desire to kiss the CoD boys? Did the brainrot demon whisper in your ear “go fuck the masked man, the mustache man, and the Scottish man?” Well you’re in luck. My sleep deprivation vomited this out last night, I did not check for errors and I have NOT played MW. Sorry to all the Gaz fans out there, I genuinely forgot to include him. Sometimes you just gotta purge the fic poltergeists in your brain. I’m sorry. John up next when the demon returns.

All for One, One for All

Part 2 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

Down time with the 141 was always a grab bag. If a mission went well it was celebratory, others were solemn. Either way, the group was comfortable enough to have a … physical connection with each other. Hugs and words of comfort common after missions. Hands through hair as you all shared stresses together. But while everyone had a baseline comfortability, as the newbie, you lost out on some of the camaraderie, some of the closeness. It drove you fucking insane.

That’s why you were barely holding it together as Soap and you were close on the couch in the break room, legs tangled as you talked about everything and nothing. The recent mission, what they were doing on leave, cute new recruits. He was always the easiest to talk to, decompress with. Quick to anxieties with, as well as who you both had … predilections to. A master of weaseling his way into talking about your respective secret desires. Like how he had been spending spare time with Ghost on off days. How you couldn’t keep eye contact with your Captain.

Missions were different, there were tasks at hand and jobs to do. But with Price, his hands comforting, ready to protect seemed to linger between you and him, longer than others. Yet you couldn’t keep conversations longer than a few minutes when you debriefed in meetings. Too much perception, you felt like dissolving when his attention was on you too long. You kept the intensity of how much you wanted your Captain to yourself though. You wonder how Soap did it with your Lieutenant. You picked at your hangnails, seemed like you could even smell them nearby, cigarette and cigar smoke lingering in your olfactory memory.

A longing, you told Soap, with your head in your hands, avoiding the embarrassment of eye contact. Stuttering through it, you described the longing, the need for belonging. “You all made it look so easy, it WAS so easy,” You lament. You got here too late, missed the boat on inclusion in the 141. No more room at the inn. They meant everything to you, they were your whole world. And the sneaking ache that you could die tomorrow and they’d move on clawed at your ribcage endlessly. You just… wanted to feel like you meant something to to them, to someone. Wanted someone to steal all the silence in your mind and fill it with warmth. With touch. With lov—

“To someone? Or to him?” You heard, through the static in your ears. The tears you’ve been fighting finally make an appearance.

“Bonnie, hey, darl’,” Soap whispered to you, bringing his lips to your forehead, fingers through your temples. Shh, shh, shh, everything was okay and that the team was here for you. He was here for you. Quieting your mind, his hands ran through your hair and lingered to your neck. You closed your eyes, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “I should have kept my mouth shut you don’t have to pity me.” You said, gently trying to push Soap back.

“Who the fuck said anything about pity.” A different, deeper voice in your ear this time. Panic floods your body as you feel a second pair of hands slide around your shoulders. “No, no, no Ghost, please don’t I’m sorry I shouldn’t—,” you stammer out, fight and flight winning simultaneously as you push immovable bodies and try to pull yourself away. Why you thought that was possible with these two men was beyond you.

Vice grips pull you back down, holding you close to both men’s chests. “Breathe, sergeant.” Delivered as a command. That part of your brain still seemed to function as you took deep breaths, not noticing how Ghost positioned himself on the couch. Leaning back at an angle, he pulled you in his lap, back against his chest and arms around your waist. Feeling his breath against the nape of your neck, steadying, matching his breathing. The smell of cigarettes, pine and sweat fill your senses. Soap slotted himself between both of your legs, into your lap, eyes keeping your focus. Knowing looking at Ghost would throw you completely askew. Ever the team, those two, you thought briefly.

Minutes went by in silence as your breathing slowed, heartbeat returned to normal. Ghost gave you one of his hands to fuss with as you calmed, testing the waters, getting used to him. His other hand carded through Soaps hair, lying in your lap. His nose nuzzled your neck as he broke the silence. “I’m, we’re, sorry for making you feel like the odd man out, sweetheart. Should have done a better job as your lieutenant to make you feel a part of the team.” He took the hand lying in yours and brought it to your stomach, bringing you closer into his chest, rubbing lazy circles. “This is… a lot to some. Who we are as a team. As much as we wanted to bring you in, we didn’t want to scare you away neither.”

“But for what it’s worth, ever since you got here,” Ghost growls, pinky grabbing the edge of your shirt, pulling upwards. “You’ve been ours.”

Everything seemed to move at once. Ghosts hands now on your body properly, exploring your curves and pulling you into him deeper. Soap chuckled lightly, his hands now caressing your hips and breathing into your waistline, peering up at you with big beautiful eyes. “Ours in the royal sense, LT. She’s been called f—“ his words cut off as a rough hand at the back of his head pressed him into your pussy. “Hmm, he’s a lot cuter when he’s down there, huh?” Ghost chuckles into your shoulder. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, your hands come up and try to meet his, unsure of if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. His arms come around and lock yours in place as Soap is released and fingers start to play with the button on your pants. “Let us make up for some lost time, sweetheart,” he growls into your shoulder.

Sheer panic, or disassociation, you’re not sure what gets you through the next moment. But either way it feels like an eternity, watching Soap pull down your pants and panties, feeling Ghost caress the valley between your tits, ambiently trying to steady your heart. Mumbling both to you and himself, he repositions you ever so slightly in his lap, bringing your ass tighter into his hips and spreading your thighs across his, giving Soap better access. “Have no fucking idea how bad we’ve needed you, bird. Been dreaming about your fucking body, how you smell, what you taste like.” You feel his hardness start, pushing up against your ass. Your deep breaths start turning into soft moans, and both men groan into you. Soap kisses you gently on your thighs, leading a trail to your core, nipping you along the way. You feel like glass, any sudden movement and you’ll shatter into Ghosts arms, heart too raw, wants too real. Ghost feels your tension and wraps one arm around your waist as the other brings your shirt above your tits, exposing them to the cold room. His free hand teasing a nipple as he whispered “Stay with me, baby.”

A strangled sound left your throat as you felt Soap’s tongue separate your lips and meet your clit. “Johnny, please, oh God.” Feeling his tongue work you open, you can only focus on your breathing so you don’t float away. Ghost adjusts something behind you as you feel two fingers slide in gently. Broken moans and pleas leave your mouth as you feel lips against your neck, kissing, biting. “Tell me how he feels bird.” Ghost murmurs. Fingers moving faster, faster as Soap attacks your clit. You chance a look down as you meet his eyes, his mouth breaking out into the biggest smile as he lifts his face briefly. A man this pretty should be illegal, you think. “Tell me, bonnie. Tell me what you want.” A sound you’d be downright ashamed of leaves your mouth, clenching around his fingers. “Fuck Soap, I want you, I want—“ His fingers start working your g-spot faster as he teases, “Use your words, bon. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I wanna, I wanna cum Johnny, please” you say in barely a whisper as he coaxes it out of you. All you feel is the cord in your stomach break as every muscle in your body tenses. Soap laughing into your clit, Ghost licking and moaning in your ear, that you belong to us, all of us. A distant part of you wonders why things sound so wet as you look down to Soaps eyes, crinkled as he makes you watch yourself squirt into his mouth.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant as Soap sucks your clit, bringing you down. Everything feels wet, you can feel it at your knees. This couch is gonna have to be burned. Soap gives one last suck to your clit, coming off with a pop. Ghosts breath comes out in short bursts as you feel him grind hard into your ass, grunting in your ear. Soap comes up and grabs you tenderly by your face, kissing you gently, deeply, making you taste. Bringing his forehead to yours, he looks at you, so tender it makes your heart stop. “Told ya we’re here. Cannae do it without ya, sweet.”

Hands gently lay you down on the couch as you remember what your limbs are supposed to feel like. A kiss from each on your forehead as Ghost says “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of our boy here, you stay put, yeah?” Your breathing starts to return to normal, letting feelings flood back slowly. “Oh, okay.” You whisper out, taking a deep breath and sitting up slightly. The big feelings start to creep back in, but a little less heavy. Tears start to flow, not from sadness but something else. You sniff away some of the emotions. “Are we, are we okay, is, oh my god what is Price, what—“ Soap is quick to take a knee next to you, kissing your tears away and cooing shhhh’s in your ear. You’ve been so distracted by this attention that you finally notice the smell in the room, stronger than earlier. Cloves, a sweetness, cigar smoke.

Your head snaps back to the chair across from you all, and your breath dies in your throat. Blue eyes locked into yours, like he’s never looked at anything else. He crushes the last of his cigar into the ashtray beside him and leans forward, hands gripping his knees tightly. “You broken, sweetheart?”

[restricted-on-13th]

How to Train Your Ghost (still trying to find an appropriate title)

Low-key inspired by a lot of fanarts and highkey inspired by areaper au I found that's pitch pearl in the fanfiction.net. This is my 2nd time writing this idea (since ive been thinking of it for the.....past 18 hours), my draft got accidentally deleted and I am mad (wrote the first draft sleep deprived and running on 30 minutes of sleep, still is running on 30 minutes of sleep, I'll visit this idea back after I get at least 4 hours of sleep and not low-key delirious, yes I still am low-key delirious) forgive me if i dont explain well or my horrendous punctation and grammas, i know. ill just word vomit/narrate/write my prompt/story/thoughts. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Tags: Human Danny (more like liminal but hes not a halfa, he does have powers though but much more altered and weaker for his squishy human body but if its a more ghost power, well, he doesnt have it), Danny Fenton is a ghost hunter, Danny Fenton has a scythe, No trio trio-ing here (Sorry, Sam, Tucker and Danny aren't friends, maybe yet), Pitch Pearl (minor, slight, if you squint, platonic, Idk) Phantom is a dork, Phantom is a sin-ammon roll (.....), Phantom is learning all about Life and Humans (mostly humans), Secret Identities, No One Knows

I found the fic I took inspo from! Do mind that while it may look very similar (probably at the first) I have different plans for mine (ques the clues I left behind and the glaring title) but still feel free to check out their work!

Just Like the Story by Kitsune's Dark Shadow

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Danny probably didn't die in his parent's portal last week on Wednesday, he thinks. He was pretty sure that he was still breathing when he crawled out of the portal, feeling the warm breathe he feels his lungs exhale on the cold ceramic tiles of the lab's floor bringing no comfort to his charred flesh as he stares at the swirling green of the portal, feeling hollow inside as he felt that something was taken from him.

Even though he could feel phantom pain on every nerve of his body all the way to Monday, the first day of school, he chalked it up to being electrocuted by at least a million volts in his body when he unwittingly slipped and press the on button inside the machine. Why there's an on button inside a portal? Danny unfortunately knows how it was mistakingly built inside.

But aside from the near death painpainI'mscaredhelpHelpMe, it stands to reason that for a teenager, such triffling matters were thrown into the metaphorical trash bin for more important matters. Like the A-listers, his studies, space and finding friends cause he's so terribly lonely, just wanting to not be seen as a freak. So it really isn't Danny's fault that he forgot about that one Wednesday noon, he was and still is busy trying to find his place in Casper High, determined to find one friend who would like him. Who wouldn't leave him due to him being Danny Fenton, son of deranged scientists believing ghost exists, the local freak of Amity and the lonely loser of Casper High.

He would have forgotten about it until he woke up floating from his bed, face first in the ceiling. Doing the approximate of a reverse dive into his week and remembering that one Wednesday brought the memories fresh, clear and crisp back to his newly (already) traumatised teenaged brain.

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Soft moonlight streamed down from the covered moon as the dewy grass below is disturbed, a floating glow of a silhouette dashes through the forest. Panting as blobs of green dripped from its wounds, gripping its sluggishly bleeding arm. It muttered "No...No...No.....No" as it ran for its afterlife, scared at something that was following it. Blue lights hallowed in green with little flecks of it across it iris narrowed as it captured and saw its target.

The ghost immediately ducked, the wind whistling as though something flew through the air. The ghost screamed in fear as they came into a clearing, sudden whips of air came and dropped in front of the ghost, effectively blocking it from its escape.

A large black scythe stood in front of the ghost, nothing of note to its design but only the tiny flecks of dark green stars across its blade. The ghost stared at the weapon in fear and apprehension as the moon sifting to the forest below slowly peeked around the clouds.

A shadow hovered and blocked the moonlight as the ghost stilled. Green eyes slowly looked up, following the handle of scythe and stopped at a figure above. Foot firmly placed on the handle of the scythe while still holding it, a boy looked down at the ghost.

Black whispy hair framed the boy's face, wind swept and frazzled from the chase. A long single white tuff of hair was partially hidden by a crocheted black and white headband, a striking difference to his dark hair. Blue eyes hallowed in neon green with flecks of different shaded oof green dancing in his eyes like stars as he stared the ghost down.

His face was framed by the moon as he slowly moved and pointed a modified ecto-gun to the ghost's head.

The ghost whispered "Azrael..."

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Notes:

Danny goes by 'Azrael' while Phantom is Phantom, the only one with a secret identity here is Danny and Valerie. No one knows who Danny moonlights as or that Danny for one is ghost hunting, so no Jazz, his parents and since the thrio aren't friends, they dont know too. I dont know about Valerie, Vlad or the ghost population yet as I haven't planned that out yet. The No One Knows tag can be applied here and his...accident too.

I have plans on Phantom but treat him as an independent character from Danny, while he does have a correlation with Danny (soul bonded) other than his looks being an invertion of Danny's (likes Danny therefore copied his human looks), they're not the same person.

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Phantom: We're soul bonded! :D

Danny (holding a gun and his scythe while staring at the local hero of Amity): ....

*silently cocks gun at phantom*

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Notes:

Anyways, Danny being a ghost hunter doesn't mean he doesn't sympathise with ghost. (He's liminal) that's also where the 'Azrael' name comes. He guides the dead, like a psychopomp, and also protects humans from the ghosts and vice versa.

I have more ideas for him but.... I won't share :)

All in due time.

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Danny was slowly stalking down the road near the forest, brushing his upper lip and his hand coming away bloody. His hands tightly clenched as he gritted his teeth and gave a low snarl.

"Fucking Dash Baxter and his stupid-" he hissed lowly as he kicked a can to the bushes. He huffed as he clutched his bag when suddenly he heard something. He looked around, a bit confused and wary when he saw nothing, he clutched his bag closer to him as he quickly opened it and took out a modified ecto-gun.

One of his latest projects in his sudden venture into ghost hunting, he was proud of how much he was able to customised it to his liking. He heard another sound and quickly aimed at where he heard it, the same bush he kicked the can at.

He slowly creeped up to it, prickles of unease all around his skin. He knew he wasn't a professional ghost hunter, he's still new to the whole thing. The world of Ghost hunters is a cruel and cold place, its either being lucky enough to not find a quack to ally with or lucky enough to survive until you changed careers. It's especially much more harder for an aspiring un-allied ghost hunter that sympathises with ghosts to learn the ropes. No back up and No supervision means that Danny has to always be in high alert in case for a ghost attack.

A melodic tune came from the bush as Danny crept closer. Using the muzzle to nudge the bush to the side as Danny immediately aimed.

He stared down at the wide green eyes of an amorphous blob ghost with a little white tuff of hair on its head as it gave a tiny squeaky tune.

"Beewp?"

[twigg96]

Food Poisoning

Daddy! Daryl X Reader

Place: Alexandria

Warnings: Literally food poisoning, vomit, a little fart joke, Kids being kids about being sick, Sickness

POV - You

Summary - After having stew with some tainted meat in it your three kiddos (Phoenix - 11, Beau - 6, and Lillian - 2) get a bad case of food poisoning. Just as kids do Beau comes in to tell his parents exactly what happened feeling traumatized and violated after he "threwed up".

The night had started off so genuinely nice. Normal even. For the turn that is. You had made dinner from the rabbit and squirrel Daryl hunted earlier in the day. It had been a hotter day than either of you realized it would be. But you never let that deter you from your duties. Daryl had warned you that the heat of the day may have spoilt some of the meat. And that he had lost one of the rabbits. He got a bad shot on it and when he finally found it, it was long dead with an arrow deep in its broken leg. He simply added it to his string not thinking anything of it. Wasn’t until later in the hunt he thought better of it and decided to chuck it… well he thought he tossed the right one at least. After a while he wasn’t so sure anymore. So he asked you to be extra vigilant while cooking that night. To sniff the meat and make sure nothing was camping out inside before tossing it in the fire to be cooked. 

You had listened. Truly you did. You had washed and smelled the meat as you cleaned and skinned it. Nothing smelled bad and so you went as far as to make a little stew for the whole community with the meat and some of Rick’s vegetables he grew in his garden. Everyone in the community seemed to love it. They ate it up vigorously and basked in the post fullness bliss of a good meal. You watched your kids play out in the yard with the other neighborhood children. When night fell after the kids had gone to bed, you and Daryl even felt adventurous enough to get a little handsy before falling into blissful sleep. 

Or that’s what the archer would have liked to have happened. But seeing as he was ripped from the calming embrace of sleep in the midst of REM he would have to argue otherwise… “Daddy…” A small and timid voice had called out into the darkness of the night. At first Daryl had believed it was just part of his dream. The one where none of the hell they lived in existed and he and his family lived in the peace he once knew. “Daddy…” The voice whispered nearer this time. Cutting straight through the lovely dream he had been having. Blinking awake slowly Daryl growled, slapping around blindly for the electric lamp sitting on the bedside table. With a click Daryl’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Beau stood a mere two inches away from the edge of the bed, only his head could be seen poking from over the side as he clutched his teddy bear close to his chest. “Daddy.” Beau whispered shakily, his lip pouting out and his eyes wide and full of tears. “Yeah?” Daryl mumbled tiredly as he tried to put together why his son was in his room in the dead of night. Sitting up in bed, the sheets falling to his exposed chest he looked over to you and sighed. You were starting to stir. Blinking away the garish light. Damn… you needed all the sleep you could get.

 “What… what do you want, Beau?” Daryl asked tiredly, reaching over you to grab a cigarette from your end table. “Well..” Beau started shuffling his feet anxiously. Daryl cocked a brow at the towheaded boy placing the cig in his mouth and flicking the lighter trying to get it to light. “Daddy… I threwed up.” He mumbled with a sob.” The words froze Daryl in his place. Maybe he it was just his foggy sleep deprived brain that was miss hearing what his son just said. But as his wife sat up stare at the two of them like they both started to grow wings and speak in tongues Daryl knew that he had heard correctly. “What?” You asked rubbing your eyes. Beau sobbed nodding. “Lillian threwed up first! Phoenix got up to check on her and she threwed up on the floor!” Beau sobbed helplessly. The both of you stared at Beau in disbelief and disgust. “So…” you ventured to ask, crawling over to your husband’s side of the bed. “Did you throw up Beau?” The little blonde nods swiping away fat tears and it isn’t until then that Daryl is able to make out the new stains on his son’s shirt and pants. “After I farted on the floor.” He whined. Daryl and you share a confused look. Farted… on the floor? What the hell does that mean? OH FUCK NO. Pulling his cigarette from his mouth Daryl gaped at Beau. “What do ya mean… farted on the flo- Beau!” He huffed twisting to the side of the bed. “Did ya shit on the floor?!” he hissed. Feeling your hand on his arm he tried to calm down but the sound of their youngest starting to scream and cry from their shared room and their eldest yelling “Mommy! Daddy! Lilly needs a bath!” was all too overwhelming for him at the moment. “Daryl.” Your calming voice drowned out the madness as your hand squeezed his. “I’ll work on cleaning up. Just… find a bucket… or two… and get them bathed and back in bed. Please. We got this, we’ve been through worse.” And suddenly Daryl knew. You were right. You always were. 

Standing with a groan, Daryl was grateful that he was wearing just boxers when Beau walked directly into his legs for a hug. God… kids and their need to be touched when they're sick. Scooping him into his arms Daryl sighed the smell of vomit was strong, but nothing he couldn’t handle after the hell they’ve lived through. “Sure ya don’t want me ta clean up too? I can-” Daryl muttered walking towards the door, Beau’s head already nuzzled under his chin seeking some semblance of comfort. “Daryl.” You had chided, cutting him off. “We’re a team. I got it, don’t worry.” With a small nod he hummed walking into the kid’s room to access the damage… and it was worse than he imagined. Scowling he sighed not seeing either of his daughters. “Phoenix!” He yelled, shuffling Beau in his arms, starting to search for them. The piercing wail of his two year old would normally have been terrifying given the world they live in but seeing as she was in the bathroom with his eldest at the moment he was simply annoyed. The water for the tap was running and when he popped his head in to see what was happening he rolled his eyes and groaned. “Phoenix… baby. Are you tryin’ ta drown yer sister?” He muttered trying so hard to make light of the situation. Phoenix’s head whipped around as she stared at him, the tub getting dangerously full as she held a fully clothed Lilly in the tub. 

Moving to place Beau on the floor Daryl kneeled beside Phoenix, turning the tap off and taking Lilly into his arms, sopping wet and all. “I was just trying to get her and her clothes clean, dad.” Phoenix whispered looking slightly ashamed and embarrassed. Taking a deep breath Daryl sighed, bouncing the screaming toddler doing his best not to emulate his own father in this situation by screaming in the face of his own children. “T-Thank you…” He bit out. It was a start at least that’s what he assumed. “Now… do me a favor…” He muttered lowly. “Get some towels for me, and some clean pajamas for all you kids and come back. Yer all gettin’ a damned bath.” 

It wasn’t until the early morning light streamed through the blinds that the rancid smell finally seemed to be mostly gone. You had done your best to clean everything up with only homemade vinegar as your main cleaning supply as everything else was running low. The windows were wide open despite the cool weather but even that didn’t deter your three hellions from getting some sleep. The two of you had decided to simply toss and burn the sheets and pajamas the kids had been sleeping in and just use old ones until you could find new ones on a run. As the two of you stood side by side watching the fire in the brisk morning air you couldn’t help but laugh. “Wha’?” Daryl nearly hissed, glaring at you. “Nothing… just… kinda feels normal ya know? We haven’t had to do that since before the turn when Phoenix was little.” You whispered thinking of the time Phoenix had simply crawled into your bed and proceeded to vomit all over Daryl like she was in the exorcist. Daryl stared into the fire but a small smile crossed his lips. “Yeah… suppose so…” Holding your hand he began to rub his thumb along the back of your hand. Any sense of normalcy in this life was better than none he assumed.

[keirawantstocry]

Heyyyy it’s me, Fitpacbo. I didn’t want to send the ask from my main blog and tumblr is stupid and won’t let you send asks from secondary blogs so I’m anon today. However, I have a prompt for you, if you are willing to entertain my word vomit.

So we’ve all seen the fics where Tubbo is sleep deprived, blah blah blah, we love to see them. BUT. There’s a severe lack of fics where Fit is the one who refuses to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, he needs to be the one who’s being taken care of by his two lovely boyfriends for once

fitpacbo I love u and ofc I will entertain ur word vomit ans ur so right! that man needs babied by his two lovely bfs!

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Exhaustion sunk into every single bone in Fit's body. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. Every night he sat awake for every minute staring down at Ramón's sleeping form. He had to make sure his boy was safe. Even if that meant he sacrificed. He would sacrifice everything for Ramón if it guaranteed his safety. 

Pac and Tubbo were starting to notice how dark the circles under his eyes were. Fit noticed the looks they gave each other when he stumbled over something he shouldn't have stumbled over. 

And there was Phil. Fit blinked in surprise. “Oh hey Phil!” 

Chayanne ran over, his typical yellow duckie floating around his waist. The children started to bounce around and smack each other lightly. 

“Chayanne was wondering if Ramón could come over today for a play date.” 

If Fit was any less tired he would have noticed the glint in Phil's eyes. But he was exhausted so he just sighed and tried not to let his eyes drift shut. “Yeah, we'd love to come over.” 

“OI!” came a yell right after and then there was Pac and Tubbo. “Fitchie, we need your help.” 

Fit stared despondently at them. “I have to watch Ramón.” 

“Don't worry about it, mate,” Phil chirped. “Chayanne wants him over anyway so I can just watch Ramón for you.” 

Fit hesitated. But ultimately he trusted Phil so he agreed. He let Pac and Tubbo each take one of his hands and drag him off to Tubchunk. There he was immediately confused about the pile of blankets in the middle of the factory floor. 

“What?” He said before he was being pulled down by the two of them into the pile, their limbs holding him down. They were both a lot stronger then they looked so with the both of them they could hold him down easily. 

“Did you guys trick me into coming here to sleep?” He asked.

They both shushed him. 

“Bedtime, king,” Tubbo said softly. 

“Boa noite!” Pac chimed in. Then Pac reached across Fit's chest to wind his fingers in Tubbo's hair who relaxed into the touch. It was nice seeing them both so soft with each other, Fit did have to admit that. Their eyes, different colors, but equally as wide and content. 

He could feel the exhaustion reaching his brain, feeling himself start to drift. Before he could utter a syllable, sleep drug him down. 

-

Fit woke up with the sun shining through the factory window. Tubbo was spread across his chest on his belly, face tucked against Fit's shoulder while Pac stood above them with a wide grin. 

“Bom dia, Fitch. I made you some breakfast.” Sure enough there in his hands was a giant bowl of oatmeal and a plate of avocado toast. “Wake Tubbo up.” 

Fit reached down to gently shake Tubbo's shoulder. Tubbo woke with a start, his hair messy and his eyes bleary. “What's happenin?” 

“Breakfast!” Pac proclaimed setting himself down beside them. Tubbo slowly peeled himself off of Fit to allow him to sit up. 

Fit had to admit the food was delicious. “This is amazing, Pac,” he praised and Tubbo murmured something that was probably meant to be agreement. 

Pac's face began to flush. “Aw thanks Fitch. It's no big deal.” 

“Really though,” Fit continued. “Thank you guys for this.” 

“Obrigado,” Pac said with a soft smile. 

Tubbo fell down against Fit's shoulder with a quiet yawn. “Bedtime,” he murmured and despite it all Fit found himself still incredibly bone tired. He let Tubbo's body weight push him back down once again and wrapped his arms around the man as Tubbo threaded their legs together. 

Pac gathered up their plates and bowl. “You two okay here by yourselves?” 

Fit nodded. “Yeah I think we're both just gonna sleep a bit more.” 

“Okay,” Pac said leaning down to press a kiss to Fit's forehead and another one to the crown of Tubbo's head. "Sleep well you two."

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part six - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: gore ; violence against women ; death ; vomiting

“This actually looks great,” she says while covering up the slash in his gut with less gauze than it usually needs. “It’s much smaller.”

He hums. It feels better, too. Her magic touch has given him the ability to breathe and eat and move without horrible pain.

She remembers when she first saw him and thought he had pale skin, but she realizes now that that sallow color was because he was in agony and probably dancing tiptoes around sepsis. He turns more golden-toned by the day as he heals.

“Bet you can’t wait to get out of here and move around more,” she comments, pulling his shirt back down. He savors the feeling of her gentle fingers accidentally brushing his skin.

While the thought of a good stretch and a couple hundred crunches to bring back his wasting body does sound good, he dreads the thought of not being able to see her again. He would have to start fights on purpose—accrue broken limbs and superficial wounds—just to get back down here. It doesn’t sound so bad. He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him, after all, and, if it’s on his own terms, staying handcuffed to a bed and injured is a fair trade for seeing his nurse.

“I would like to feel the sun,” he says, honest enough.

She places her hand on his shoulder. Even through the cotton fabric of his shirt, he feels the comfort of her skin. He leans a bit into her touch. “You will,” she says softly.

What good is feeling the sun, though, if she is still underground?

It’s 4PM. She’s usually asleep right now, but she picked up an afternoon shift and plans to work 16 hours the next morning. Usually, pick up shifts are the shittiest ones, but John is her patient again and she has an easy assignment. Plus, free lunch today for all staff and no Benny.

You can’t get much better than this.

She sits down to chart with her deli sandwich by her side, and notices that no one is in the hallway, which is strange for this time of day. It’s a bad idea, to just shrug that off, to forget this is one of the highest security prisons in the state of New York for a reason.

It’s the shiny red hue that catches her eye. Everything is so white and grey in here that it’s hard to miss the bright liquid puddling on the floor around a corner. She blinks, rubs her eyes, convinced that it’s a trick of sleep deprivation at first.

She gets up, pushes in her chair out of habit and because she’s afraid to walk over and look.

See enough dead bodies—stuff enough of them in bags while you’re busy and overworked—and it becomes natural not to balk at them. This is not the kind of dead body she’s used to.

It’s a guard, she can tell by the dark blue uniform, but his body is bludgeoned so excessively that he’s unrecognizable. A spike of brown hair sticks up from the black and purple viscera that is his face. Blobs of pale flesh dot the floor around his corpse.

She has a strong stomach, so it isn’t the bloodbath that makes her mouth fill with bile and her chest attempt heaving up those few bites of sandwich she took; it’s the fear, sudden and sharp and hot.

It takes her a moment of holding back vomit to remember that there’s a code button on the desk at the nurse’s station, but her feet feel like anchors and she doesn’t make it two sluggish steps before there’s a gun pressed to her face.

“Hello nurse,” the rogue inmate greets. “I think you should sit.”

She looks at the blood speckled floor, hesitates, he taps the barrel on her cheek. “Sit.”

It’s cold down here, but she barely feels it, too consumed by the adrenaline that comes with having a gun level with your brain, too busy thinking about how this underground trap is perfect for piling bodies to the ceiling.

She hears loud shouting from somewhere down the hallway. The man with the gun kneels down beside her, shading himself behind the desk. “Shut up, or I’ll fucking kill you,” he hisses, droplets of sour spit landing on her cheek.

More shouting, gun shots. Footsteps running in the opposite direction.

The guard gets on his heels to peak over the counter, and she watches the gun bob sideways in his hand. There’s barely enough time to contemplate taking it before he’s trying to haul her up by the arm.

“Come the fuck on!” He hisses as she tries to stand quickly on slow legs, stumbling forward, yelping when he grabs her ponytail to keep her upright.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” There’s another inmate. The only thing she notices about this one is that he’s bigger.

“This is called leverage,” the man holding her arm tells the other, jerking her again.

“That’s called liability.” The other one doesn’t have a gun that she can see, but he rivals Benny in size.

“So kill her?”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Where’d you find this pretty thing?” She recognizes this one. Well, not his face so much as his mouth, that voice, grating and high, impossible to ignore when he starts in with lewd expletives as soon as she enters his room. “You kill the rest?” He’s got a gun and a baton tucked into his blood speckled pants.

“Yeah,” says the man who’s shoving a barrel into her skull.

“Sorry, darling,” he coos, and she recoils back, wincing as the grip on her arms pinches tighter. “When I’m done with you, you’re gonna wish you were part of that body pile.”

“I think we should use her, they’re not gonna shoot us if we’re holding the gun to her head.”

“Making sure she stays with you is more trouble than she’s worth.”

“So lock her up.”

“Too much time. Give me the gun and I’ll kill her.” The bigger of the three tries to reach for the gun but gets the barrel pointed at his head instead.

“Get your own.”

John grabs the biggest one by the back of his hair and smashes the front of his neck with heavy metal. His whole body folds in half, and, as he goes down, his face collides with John’s raised knee.

Her eyes are focused on the blood pouring from his nose and mouth instead of the fight.

John twists a wrist until it breaks, grabs the gun, and then her attention is back on the bedlam. As quick as the bullet is out of the barrel, he’s pulling the trigger again, lodging metal into skulls and showering in the viscera. When the gun clicks empty, he uses it to hit the other man in the face while the metal tube clears his feet out from under him.

And he gets one more squishy blow to the back of the head before—

He grabs her, tucks her behind him—

The original gunman tries to reach him, but John’s too quick. He brings the metal to his temple and dents the side of his head in like bouncy foam.

She watches him join his colleagues on the red concrete.

Then, mistakenly, looks up at her savior and remembers why you never meet your heroes.

Handcuffed to that bed, he had begun to seem so docile and helpless. Standing here in front of her with blood and slimy grey splattering his face, he is tall, broad, angry, unchained, transformed into something bestial.

She feels herself hit the wall without realizing she’s been backing away from him.

Blood pounds so hard in her ears she has to focus when he talks, but something about the way he speaks tells her that she needs to listen like her life depends on it.

He says her name again, comes closer. Her eyes dart from the makeshift weapon back to his face. She tries to swallow the dryness in her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” She yelps, gripping at the wall.

“Are. You. Okay?” John takes a few more timid steps toward her and she cowers under his massive shadow.

“I…I don’t know.”

He loses patience, stalks up to her. She braces for impact by screwing her eyes shut and turning her head.

Leaden, calloused fingers touch her face softly, making her shiver despite the furnace of his touch. She opens her eyes, looks up at him, and sees he is focused on her left cheek where a bruise is almost faded away.

“Tell me,” he presses, using three fingers on her chin to turn her eyes level with his own.

“I’m okay,” she whispers.

Loud shots pop down the hallway. Two prisoners round the corner with guns in their hands, running so fast they hit the opposite wall and tumble into one another.

John’s head snaps to the commotion. The two men lock eyes with him. She tries to shrink back into herself, become invisible, but it doesn’t work and they see her, too. Here she is, caught in the middle of a prison riot in her baby blue scrubs, a fragile case of soft meat ready to be pulverized.

“Is that your hostage?” One of the men asks, motioning toward her with the gun.

John turns around to face them while pressing her back into the wall behind him.

He smells like sweat and heavy metal and damp earth. She becomes sandwiched between his balmy body and the freezing brick.

“Can we borrow her?” The other asks. Neither of them stop walking toward them. She can’t see around or above him but she hears their thick footsteps and tries to fold herself smaller against his broad back.

Five guards run around the corridor, guns raised.

He is perfectly still, her human shield, almost as if he is waiting for something. She doesn’t think he’s breathing, even.

“Put your weapons do-“ the security guard can’t finish his sentence before a bullet bites into the flesh of his shoulder.  Messy shot from one of the inmates. Blood rains, and John moves.

Most of the things he does are too fast for her to see, but the crunch of bone is unmistakable when he twists an inmate’s arm around until it snaps and grabs the gun from his limp hand.

The man screams, drops to his knees. His companion swears, scrambles, points his weapon at John, but there’s already a palm slammed into the tender bones of nose and then his trachea as his neck bends back.

He will remember the faces of the guards that he kills. Some are innocent men with hearty lives and loving families. But they will take her, and she will die, so he eliminates that prospect altogether with bullets.

Eleven men on the ground, and John still stands, unharmed.

Ringing ears, the steady roll of hot blood, screaming. Bodies.

Loud, sudden sirens rip her from the heavy descent of shock. She snaps back into reality when John grabs her arm and pulls.

A millisecond later, he tosses her into a treatment room, slams and locks the door. Gunshots ring in muffled sequence behind her.

She wonders what is wrong with her, why she can’t find moving legs underneath her. She feels slow again, almost like she’s trying to get somewhere important in a dream and unconscious gravity is weighing her down with debilitating force.

Her patients. Her sick patients handcuffed to their beds. The guards, just trying to do their jobs—most with probable families and friends of their own. All of these people trapped underground in a kill cage match, and all she can think about is how badly she wants to live.

She slides down to the floor, puts her head in her hands, the room tilts and distorts around her. She shuts her eyes as tight as she can, but she still feels like she’s riding a tiny boat in a huge, angry ocean. She leans to the side and vomits from sea sickness.

Bile splatters up from the floor onto her scrubs and hair and skin.

She puts her head down to stop the spinning, folds into her own body for some kind of comfort.

John presses himself into an alcove, reloads, thinks. It takes a second. He catches his breath. How does he get her out of here? He can’t leave her in the infirmary. Someone with enough force can easily break down the door that she’s behind and get in. If he drags her along while he fights through the prison, that’s still her neck on a silver platter no matter if he’s confident he can protect her or not.

He could barricade himself in the room with her, wait for things to settle, but he doesn’t know how long this will last. He guesses two to three days at most before enough people are dead that the police can infiltrate and kill the rest. Too much waiting for something to go wrong. This has to be quick. If he didn’t have to keep one eye on the door he left her behind, he could easily incapacitate everyone in here in less than an hour. If he brings her with him, he can’t do things efficiently or quietly. It will have to be succinct, sparing, a running sprint—he will hurt her pretty skin to keep major organs and arteries safe.

There are no disabling blows to grant. Lethal hits: head, femoral, mesenteric, radial arteries.

He exits from the slaughterhouse into her clean room, shuts the door, leans down and grabs her shoulders. He calls her name, makes her look at him.

Sick stains the corner of her mouth and her clothes and she looks like she already got the piss beat out of her.

“John,” she says like a tiny, terrified child, huddling away from him.

He grimaces. Her shell-shocked stare makes his heart burn. He pulls her into his lap, smooths her hair. She resists initially because of fear, but easily gives and sobs into his chest. He holds her to quell the screaming child. He understands this cry all too well.

“Listen to me,” he tells her, and immediately she quiets.

His voice captivates the chaos, brings her down into the atmosphere. She clutches at him, urging him to keep talking, tell her it’s going to be okay.

“I’m going to get you out. But you have to stay beside me, keep calm, and do as I say.”

“What about you?” She asks. “Are you getting out?”

He looks at her incredulously, baffled by the concern she still has for him despite everything she has just seen him do.

He doesn’t know why it takes him this long, why the realization just hits him now. Sitting here with her holding onto him like he’s the only thing securing her to the earth, and It’s right there in her face, as clear as spring water, even through the film of her fear—yearning.

He tilts his head down at her, studies the look, memorizes it, tucks it away for later, then does what he’s wanted to do from the start.

She doesn’t understand why he’s wiping the vomit off her lips and the blood off his.

Soon, it becomes clear. When he kisses her.

She stills, pulls back, but he grabs the side of her neck and holds, takes until she gives, happily and eagerly with her timid little tongue. There is no prison, no violence, no fight here once her mouth agrees with his own.

He tastes like copper and sweat. His tongue is as much of a weapon as his hands are. It tangles in her mouth, curls her toes and steals her breath.

Life pulses weak and out of focus, a dying heart in the background of their embrace, until he releases his grip and they part ways.

Her heart tries to run out of her chest, and she’s not sure if it means to flee toward or away from him.

She’s suddenly very aware of her body invading his space. He is solid and strong; lean, long thighs supportive under her bottom. She still feels self-conscious, though, wonders if he thinks she’s too heavy and is just too polite to say so. At the same time, she’s clinging to him so tightly that she thinks he’s the only thing holding her down to earth.

He cradles her cheek in his palm, keeps her eyes on him. “You follow me, you listen to me, you let me put you where I want you. Understand?”

She nods, eyes wide, brought back into the present by his pressing tone.

“What are you doing?” He asks, urging her to repeat his demands.

“Following you, listening to you, going where you want me to go.”

“No,” he says, “staying where I put you.”

She looks confused.

“If I put you on my back, you stay there. If I shove you into a corner, you stay there, if I pull you, you keep up, even if your feet drag and your body hurts. You move how I move you.”

“I’ll slow you down.”

“You will if you don’t listen to me,” he corrects.

“Just leave me-“

He takes her chin, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stop that thought from breaching.

She recoils, scared of him.

He pulls her back. “Do you understand me?” He punctuates her name.

“Yes.” It is a quiet whimper from her mouth.

He smooths her hair back away from her face, and gathers the courage to put her in danger.

It’s hard to watch people die, even more difficult if the person you admire is doing the killing. He’s been through this, what she experiences now, trust and reliance turning into trepidation.

Even though they are traveling up, it feels like a journey to hell. He murders easier than he breathes. Limbs are twigs, heads are targets, and she feels like a suitcase that he has to carry around a busy airport

She wishes this were a quick blur, but instead the fighting and the screaming seem to move in slow motion. John does what he says he’s going to do, and she experiences every bit of his raw strength as he pulls and pushes her body. At one point she has the audacity to feel envious of the dying men…because at least they only get a few seconds of his fury before it ends.

And as much as he attempts not to hurt her, he fails. Still, when they get out into the dying wintery sun, she holds onto him. Bruises are forming on her arms and her collar, her light blue scrubs are scuffed with dirt and blood and skin and hair and brain matter, and her face turned from crying to stoic and lightless a long while ago.

He takes her phone from her pocket after they sit on the curb and his warm arm wraps around her shoulders while he dials 911. Her blunt nails dig through his shirt into skin as she clings.

“You did good,” he says. “You’ll be okay.”

She hears him, but she’d rather cling harder than answer. She’ll only be okay if he stays with her. She’ll never be okayagain.

He cringes in her silence, pulls her closer, trying to be a decent heater, grabbing her ruddy blue hands and tucking both under one of his own. As the city sun goes down and leaves them in shadow, her shivering increases. Just as he’s about to carry her to warmth, the ambulance and police arrive.

She knows he has to go, so she holds him tighter. He untangles her hands, kisses her on the head, and then he’s gone. A ghost amongst the blurry twinkle and whirr of chaos.

She looks for him in the crowd of people that surround her and flash lights into her eyes and ask her if she’s okay. Out and beyond the squad cars and blue uniforms and between the dark caves of buildings, searching frantically even as she’s being loaded into the back of an ambulance, wishing she would’ve clung tighter, wondering where John Wick has gone.

[shoezuki]

Hello!! I have been fighting the horrors of life and away from tumblr for quite some time. Don't mind me whilst I self-inflict homework of catching up on your blog in a deadline of 4 days for absolutely no reason :)

Your Gepard posts have been igniting the brain worms tho. Emotionally exhausted Gep for the win.

May I propose fun scenario, excuse the coming word vomit I am sleep deprived? Gep having been out in the Fragmentum for longer than usual, more casualties from a wave of em after disturbing areas further out in an effort to gather more resources.

Sampo, being the little creature he is, trails the guards when he can and sees Cap acting progressively more numb. You can only force compassion and energy when there's free time not being spent on trying not to die.

Shampoo gives him time to recover before initiating a chase only for Gepard to jus kinda break but in a walls up kinda way. Dude jus kinda shuts down cuz he can't bring himself to muster the drive to put effort into catching him and it shake him a bit.

One thing Sampo is very good at is tugging at that sense of justice in him (even if it isn't really aimed at Sampo) but he can't will even false care for his illegalities and it scares him because his sense of justice and protection are the only things keepin him runnin. Everyone runs outta juice eventually :3

Can't remember where I was goin with this but woo. Missed you, Egg <3

~ 🥃

AYYYYYYYY welcome back whiskey anon!!!!! i hope u gave the Horrors some hell

ooheahhh.h oough god yeah... yeah like. tryin to arrest sampo is probably like.... an Escape from the horrors of the frontlines n the restricted zone. it really does pull at his sense of justice because like. Sampo's a criminal who needs to be apprehended, not some fragmentum monster that tears through guards or the corrupted fragmentum ridden bodies of his deceased guards. in the restricted zone or outside the city theres nothing but the fragmentum and its constant. Except when sampo shows up, either poking at gepard on purpose or getting caught pilfering their supplies or smuggling things into the city.

so for gepard to just.. not care about sampo poking around and being where he shouldnt. things must be REALLY bad.

gepard just. absolutely exhausted, the fragmentum not receding no matter how many monstrosities they destroy, yet his guards are getting more and more injured or worse. Gepard hasnt slept in days, cant even pretend to lay in bed and sleep. They're running out of supplies and ammunition, more guards are being sent back to the infirmary than there are coming to the frontlines as reinforcements, and gepard is just so fucking tired. theres bloodstains on his uniform from having to pull guards out from the claws of fragmentum he'd frozen still and having to staunch wounds on the battlefield. But like. what can he do? they cant give up, no matter how many of them die or if he dies. because if they do then theres nothing to keep the city safe from the fragmentum. so he has to just. bare it.

Sampo is trifling around in Gepards tent when gep catches him. he was technically looking for some supplies or any relics theyd confiscated or information on the silvermanes' supply chain but more than anything he was just trying to be a nuisance. and Gepard catches him. but instead of their usual cat and mouse game gepard just. doesnt care. he cant seem to be bothered. just tells sampo to get out and leaves.

and thats like. kinda horrifying for sampo? i mean this is the shield of belobog and he is too fatigued to care about this lowly criminal. but also its boring. theres no fun without a chase. sampo Likes gepards unwavering sense of justice and how he never seems to back down or falter. yet here he is going against the script. its uncanny

(maybe the next day, gepard warily finds that the fragmentum have finally, finally retreated from the restricted zone a bit. he doesnt want to get his hopes up but when patrolling all he can find is traces of the corrosion and only a few battered flame and frostspawns meandering around. he has no clue what has happened but its a moment of respite. after gepard assesses their supplies, the state of his silvermane guards, gets in touch with bronya and establishes a plan of action for automatons to come in as reinforcement, he goes back to his personal tent. Sampo is there again, but this time he's desperately trying to bandage the wounds the fragmentum left on him with gepard's medical supplies before he's found out.)

[yandere-daydreams]

Omg the milf fic fucking slaps, thank you for feeding us 🙏🏽

No but seriously, the disgust on Reader when Suguru made his first move moving into the conflicting feelings of him pleasuring them,,,, that was some good shit, I love reader angst. Plus when Reader realized that Suguru was manipulating them all this time… the slow horror that came with that and the crushing realization that there was nothing to do about it at that point… that goes crazy honestly.

Also Gojo’s such a nasty little fuck, the student line made me want to vomit,, but in like… a slay way, as in “this is so disgusting I want to study him in a lab or something”.

Sorry if this isn’t coherent bc I’m sleep deprived, but I needed you to know how much this slays

and thank you for the motivation!!! i don't think i really covered the distress/disgust that comes with having to deal with the very apparently sexual/romantic advances of someone young enough for you to think of them as, like, practically a kid (even if geto was probably 20-ish at that point in the timeline) in the first part, so i was very eager to cover it very thoroughly in this fic lol. that paired with reader being desperate enough to Literally Have A Baby For Him just kinda paved the way for a lot of dissociation and creeping dread that /could've/ lasted longer, if geto had been able to keep his murder dick in his murder pants. alas, i am committed to keeping them as in-character as possible.

gojo's sections were also really a treat to write <3 at that point, reader was living out their own psychological horror and he was just being a silly little guy. they were contemplating having to abandon what little stability they'd managed to create for their daughter and if it would even be worth running if they were just going to fall into the arms of another megalomaniac and his brain was entirely empty save for the singular thought of 'milfs :)'. jgfkldjkld i promise he means well, he just sucks <3

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥

Cw: sleep deprivation, hallucinations, suicide, self harm, poly!reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, force feeding but not in a fetish way, vomit (only mentioned), drugging, selective/situational mutism, the hallucinations catholicism related (sorry I'm hispanic), kinda comfort at the end?

Notes: Tumblr wouldn't let me upload this?? I tried several times so I decided to just post it alone. Anyways, this happens after a variation of the events in Even as the void consumes them but the reader didn't succumb to stockholm syndrome

"Open. Up" Gayatri's voice was nothing but an echo, a disturbance in the sound waves. You can feel she has her hand on your jaw, trying to force it open. You had vomited everything that had entered your system the las three days, it's not even intentional at this point, it's like your body rejects whatever its presented. It makes sense, in a way. Your body is rejecting them, just like you do.

You stubbornly clench your jaw in a silent protest. Not that there's other way to oppose her, the second your lips are slightly spread, she'll force the food down your throat.

You recognize their patience. They have been trying to feed you for, an hour? You are tempted to leave it uncertain, as time is not something your tired brain can afford to care about.

Every escape plan has failed so far, the one time you could leave the building, you were returned by the police. And after your second attempt, you moved, they got a house instead of an apartment, you could see through windows, it was a completely unknown place, you assumed it was Mumbattan since Pavitr had "work" here, but aside from that, is hopeless.

Gayatri's hand lets go of your jaw, she's getting increasingly frustrated at your resistance. You see her holding back tears. You could go on a whole ramble about how she must feel seeing you starve, and sleep deprive yourself, a person she loves dearly, in theory. However, you don't allow yourself to be moved by their sob stories anymore, you're too tired, you're too damaged.

"Have it your way. This little stunt won't be successful, you won't die." She says as she gets up from the chair and exits the living room, have you been rested and functioning properly, you would've listened to her whispering something more. "I can't let you die"

As of late, you only sleep when you're passed out, only get nourished when they leave you no choice. You really wished there was a less painful way to go, but they made sure you couldn't hurt yourself, no knives, no razors, no pills (not even ibuprofen), they baby-proofed the entire house so you wouldn't hurt yourself with the corners of the furniture, Pavitr wanted to remove the door from your room so he could watch you 24/7, but Gayatri talked him out of it. You don't know if it's genuine respect for the little privacy you had left, or just because being exposed also meant that they were exposed as well, and you've seen how she storms out because she doesn't have the strength to keep her tears from falling, you hear their endless rantings at night, it always ends the same way: they wail about the lost time, about the things you said or did, or about the teeny tiny impression that they might have screwed up, it's all the same, they'll end up curled up in each other's embrace, conjuring excuses and hope-filled speeches about "things going back to how they were".

You see the plate laying beneath you. Full of maggots, you gag and feel the now familiar burn in your dry throat. You fight the urge to slam the plate away, this happened before, everytime they leave, food turns to maggots, they can't see it, but you know what they're really feeding you. It's better, you definitely have no appetite now.

You head to your room, now filled with the floral wallpaper you hate. When you saw it for the first time, you made your nails bleed from scratching the walls, you hated it, you yelled at them, berated them in every way you knew how. It was the only thing you'd ask for in this hellhole. If you can't have freedom, please let the yellow flowers stay with you. Eventually they got some, but not enough to cover the whole room, no longer 5,128 flowers. You said you wouldn't speak a word to them until they got you the rest, but you know that's not the real reason why you don't talk anymore.

"Don't talk, go make bread" an old man whispers

"Your eyes taste like how the color purple tastes like"

You hear a knock on the door, followed by more voices.

"You're ungrateful."

"Break the door"

"Don't answer the door"

"I really want to sleep"

"Pigeons are nice because they know things"

Voices always calm down when Michael shows up. The glow hurts your eyes, the divine light hurts the sinner.

"Father shall not leave thee, you face the calvary for those who are innocent"

Those who are innocent.

Pavitr is not innocent, you recall it now.

He gave you a spoonful of something, then he pecked your closed lips. You don't know you weren't moving, it feels like you were watching a movie about yourself.

Pavitr is not innocent, so you aren't doing this for him.

What are you doing?

Y/N collapsed on the floor, the loud thump alerted the other two people.

"They'll be better now, you can rest" Pavitr reassured to the woman next to him

"They keep trying to hurt themselves, they won't let us nurse them back to health" there was an audible tear in Gayatri Singh's voice, cracking, a little hoarse, tired.

"We can't blame them for being ill. Remember, love, in sickness and in health" Pavitr picked the body, it was malnourished, skin thin like a sheet of paper, multiple little injuries that never healed properly. He put them in the bed, freshly made, no one has slept there in a while.

"In sickness and in health" Gayatri repeated, with hope, as she tucked her lover into the bed, she made sure it was comfortable, even for someone who won't know the difference.

They kiss their slumbering lover's hands, then sit down, in well needed silence.

"We need to call the physician to see if they can put them in IV therapy or something" Gayatri said, her worries still exacerbating

"One day at a time, jaanu, one day at a time."

[soupzardous]

i would love a detalied lore drop on are they smarter than a first grader :3 i genuinely adore all these characters youve written i would gladly take any brain vomit like just screenshots of you and ur friend brainrotting i would eat it alllll up!! just anything honestly

I’m not even gonna lie I did not deliver at all. But what I will give you is that I know for sure that Quackity had like been super anxious for the sleep over. As usual Wilbur was late. Literally not shocking. But basically I hadnot planned much for that chapter I had lots of ideas tho. I did want to have them maybe build a pillow fort in Slimes room cuz I thought that would be silly and also cuz Quackity would’ve lost his marbles. I also think I intended on writing a moment that chapter where Quackity wants to read Fundy and Slime a bed time story since it was routine but Fundy doesn’t know how to react and Slime shoos Quackity away because Fundy can just read to him. Quackity would’ve gone back to the living room grumbling and prob would’ve poured himself a glass of wine cuz he can’t handle not being in charge of things.

Since him and Wilbur were fighting before hand (from what I remember) I wanted it to be sort of tense and awkward. I know in the previous chapter, Slime had green marker on his face and that was how i planned on getting them to start talking. Wilbur would’ve also been drinking wine and all that jazz. However, the plan was for Wilbur to suggest to Quackity that he get Slime some tattoo markers so Slime can draw on himself without it becoming a problem, and that was gonna lead into them being fucking weird or whatever. I really hardcore believed that atstafg!Quackity had a trampstamp (there is concept art and everything). Anyways, back then i did actually write out all the dialogue as kind of a bare bones draft, so I’ll just insert that screen shot here:

Then they probably were freaks and kissed. And this time no one interrupted them for realzies.

The next morning was gonna go one of two ways.

1. Quackity was gonna wake up and realize it was almost 8:30 am (he usually woke up around 5) an get worried that the kids hadn’t eaten. In this scenario he didn’t even remember the whole thing with Wilbur because he is more worried abt the kids. He would’ve winded up walking into the living area and seeing that Wilbur was in his bath robe due to being the one who’d woken Wilbur up, and Wilbur had to find something to put on because he wanted to let Quackity keep sleeping (he knew Quackity was sleep deprived)

2. They would’ve woken up at the same time and kind of opted to ignore what had happened. Wilbur wouldn’t have been able to find his glasses and he probably would’ve said something along the lines of “Well it isn’t my fault you probably recklessly put them somewhere. If they’re broken you’re paying for it.” And they would’ve bickered before Wilbur rolled his eyes and said he didn’t need them that bad and they would’ve headed into the kitchen.

Either way, they would’ve wound up finding Slime and Fundy at the kitchen table with some books that him and Fundy were reading together. Once again, I had this vaguely written in old dms i sent so I’ll just insert those here

I did initially want Quackity to do that thing he does where he was more focused on being a parent than how he was feeling, so he was gonna be too busy with trying to schedule Slime an optometrist appointment to worry about whatever happened with Wilbur. However, Wilbur is not trying to leave in a rush cause he would rather be uncomfortable around Quackity while Fundy had fun than back at his apartment with Phil there. Eventually, when Quackity gets off the phone Wilbur finally asks why Quackity isn’t bringing up what happened, and Quackity woudlve been all like “because I have a life to live I can’t just pause everytime there is a minor accident. You just have to keep doing what you have to do, so sorry if I don’t wanna get into all that” and Wilbur would’ve been offended but not willing to walk away. He does wind up giving up the fight and saying he was gonna stay a little bit longer but just because Fundy was having a fun time. he probably says something about how he’s only staying because he’s not as bad of a parent as Quackity thinks. because truly, they never get past that.

By the way Quackity does blame himself heavily for not even thinking that Slime might have really bad eye sight and just trying to force slime to read when he couldn’t see very well to be begin with. I know a lot of people did theorize that he had dyslexia or was truly just never taught to read, but it was more so due to a lack of proper caregivers in his infant and toddler years and shockingly bad eyesight for being a six year old.

Quackity tries to get Wilbur to go home by telling Slime his friend was gonna have to go home so that he could take Slime to the eye doctor, but Slime tells Quackity “you can’t take me to an eye doctor. Your eyes are healthy. Can Fundy’s dad go instead his eyes aren’t healthy so he would be better” (thats really ooc forgive me please). Anyways, Quackity is a sucker for anything Slime wants especially since his feels really guilty in the moment. So he does say yes.

I have a much more detailed version of the whole glasses debacle, if you want that, but tbh I do not expect this post to be something anyone is actively waiting for anymore. Once again my bad for waiting so long. There were a lot of little things I hc abt Wilbur and his childhood that related to glasses that would’ve served as a bonding type of moment nd i believe i have all of that written down somewhere in my discord dms.

Anyways. I am kind of struggling to remember it all, but I did plan on Quackity and Wilbur trying to keep things professional for a chapter after that, as they were nearing the class Christmas party i believe. Maybe I don’t remember my own fics current time line but it’s fine it’s so chill. But basically when they do set up and help run the class Christmas party since they are co room moms. One of the activities is making a little handmade ornament. It’s meant to be like a gift the kids make to bring home to their parents. However, during the party Slime winds up giving his to Wilbur instead of Quackity. Quackity is not happy about this to say the least, especially since him and wilbur aren’t on the best of terms. Quackity expected Wilbur to shove it in Quackitys face and brag about winning, but instead he just awkwardly tried to give it to Quackity because he felt really bad about the fact that it happened. Quackity refuses to accept it and just kind of keeps to himself the whole time.

When the class party ends, Nikki thanks the two for how much they did and for collaborating. She mentions that Slime had been talking about how Wilbur and Quackity had a sleepover with him and Fundy all week in their morning circle, and to top it off, there had even been a day or two where Fundy talked during the morning circle too. As Quackity and Wilbur leave the school, Wilbur attempts to check in on Quackity. usually Quackity was more vocal of what was bothering him.

When he asks what’s wrong Quackity just kinda quietly says something about how it isn’t fair that Slime likes Wilbur more than him.

Wilbur goes “thats not true. he hardly knows me”

And Quackity just says that he wouldn’t get it. And it is heavily related to the fact that Quackity has tried super hard to avoid letting anyone into his life because he didn’t wanna bring someone into Slimes life that would stick around for a while but inevitably leave. After a bit of back and forth Wilbur probably mentions something like “I dont get it. You act like I’m going anywhere. You act like you aren’t incredibly aware that I can’t leave if I want to. If either of us are the type to run away, it’s you, Quackity. You always say it’s what’s best for Slime, but I don’t know if theres a single selfless reason why you act the way you do. I know I’m selfish, but I never asked to be in this situation. And I’m not saying you did. But for someone who always looks so miserable, you sure have no problem pushing me away. I may not have been the best friend you could have, but it’s not like you have any others. Our kids are friends, and I wont let this be the reason they can’t hang out anymore. But you have a lot of nerve pretending we don’t know too much about each other. I thought we would’ve worked out just fine together. I liked you, Quackity. And maybe I’m just an idiot, but feel like you might have liked me too”

Quackity tells him he doesn’t get it, and Wilbur decides to count his losses and drive home.

The next chapter I planned on having Wilbur being up late at night. School has gone on break and it is Christmas Eve now. For the first time in years Wilbur had actually put out a small decorative tree. He wasn’t sure why, neither him nor fundy were very enthusiastic about holidays. Fundy was in bed and Phil was sleeping too. He winds up getting out some craft supplies that he had left over from a while back, and makes his own version of a shitty ornament. In all honesty it isn’t that much better than the one Slime had made. He puts it in a bag along with a cheap botttle of wine he bought the day before. A part of him wanted to write “to replace the last of the things I took from you” on the card, but he settled on writing “merry Christmas, hope you like it” despite how much he wanted to say. The next morning after Fundy opens his gifts, he asks if Fundy wants to go have a play date with Slime, and Fundy says yes because he wants to tell Slime about the cool books he got.

The goal was for Wilbur to give Quackity the gift and for Quackity to attempt to act indifferent/frustrated but eventually crumble cuz he was really upset with himself. I did at the time plan on just figuring out this part when i got there, however it was gonna be kinda mushy with like them finally talking about it. I prob would’ve done some fuckass mistletoe cliche or something. I also thought it would’ve been funny to have Slime and Fundy see it and try and turn their Christmas Chinese takeout dinner into a surprise date to set their parents up. I don’t really know.

It is a little funny cuz i actually really dont like Christmas but it was going to become a Christmas fic due to pacing.

The epilogue would’ve been a fast forward to Wilbur and Quackity roughly 8 months later being fluffy and silly while coparenting and getting both Slime and Fundy ready for school. I wasn’t sure whether they’d be living together or not at that point, but either way it wasn’t like they wouldn’t have sleep overs pretty often. I thought it would be kinda silly if like Wilbur was helping get the kids ready so Quackity could get an extra hour of sleep since Wilbur usually was working until after Quackity had already picked up the kids from school. There would be some days where Quackity packed the kids lunches and some where they got to buy it at school. Some days Quackity would worry about what the kids were gonna wear and others Wilbur just let them pick whatever they wanted. Essentially just illustrating the balance that would be achieved after they got together with both families benefiting from the best of both worlds. Wilbur would’ve learned to be a more involved and responsible parent and Quackity would’ve learned to not micro manage every little thing that happened. And from that point on they both became co room moms until Fundy and Slime got sick of their parents wanting to be involved with every school function

I have more things i saved in case y’all want anymore!! So just let me know and i will actually get back to you in a timely manner I promise this time !!! Hope this all made sense it has been so long since I talked abt atstafg

[bellysoupset]

I love the carsickness story! Dizzy Leo and concerned Jonah is EVERYTHING!!!!!

If you do decide to do a part 2, I have an idea. You don't have to use it, but hear me out:

So, most of the time carsickness can last for a few hours, but sometimes it can take MUCH longer. Same night in the motel, Jon wakes up to the sound of Leo vomiting in the bathroom. They're both confused because they thought Leo would be better by then, and Leo is just so upset about being sick that he's an adorably pathetic combination of sick, emotional, and grumpy, and as concerned as Jon is he can't help but find it a little adorable.

Also, maybe Bella has a horrible headache that makes her nauseous in the middle of the night and Luke is super worried about her.

Suddenly, Wendy and Vince are woken up and are transitioning between helping Leo and Jon to helping Luke and Bell, and they're both just so tired but neither of them are gonna stop helping until Leo's and Bell's auditions for the freaking Exorcist are over.

P.S. I started cackling as I wrote that last sentence. I'm so effing sleep deprived!!😭😭😭

Double whammy of Leo&Bell in pain! Just changing the timing because since they left Maine at 8 AM and the trip lasted only 2 hours, there's no way part two would take place in the middle of the night.

----------

Jonah wasn't trying to be an asshole. Not really, he didn't slip out of the room, once Leo was finally asleep for good and no longer dry heaving every thirty minutes in the ice bucket, just to be a dick to his friends.

However, he couldn't pretend to be happy about the situation. Anyone with more than three working neurons would've been able to tell that putting Leo in a van, a vehicle famous for setting off motion sickness, for four hours, had a very high chance of ending up with him hurling. Jon couldn't understand how he was supposed to act like this wasn't Bella's fault, when she could've easily prevented this by not puppy eyeing her way into going to a fucking music festival when she could barely stay awake more than a couple of hours and wouldn't even enjoy the bloody thing!

So yeah, he wasn't trying to be a dick but it was really hard not to be one right now.

There was a small diner, adjacent to the motel, and Jonah slipped in, stomach growling painfully since it was well past midday and he was so used to having an early lunch thanks to work. He didn't expect to find Bella, Luke, Wendy and Vince inside, but that was on him, he should've guessed they were hungry too.

If Jonah could turn around and pretend he didn't know them, he would have, because right now he was far too angry to be able to keep a pleasant conversation. Instead, Vince spotted him from across the diner and waved, smiling brightly.

"Come sit down, we're just about to order!"

Bless his soul, Jonah thought bitterly, stepping closer and avoiding looking at Bella, lest the nastiest part of him snapped at her.

"What are you ordering?" he asked, sitting next to Wendy and glaring at the plastic menu in front of him.

"How's Leo?" Bella asked, causing Jonah to grit his teeth.

"Asleep," he said, roughly, before turning to Vince, "so? What are you ordering?

"I got a greek salad," Wendy replied, raising an eyebrow, "did he take the dramamine?"

"Yes," Jonah squeezed the menu in his hands, trying to focus on the goodies that were probably filled with saturated fat, "I'm gonna get the chicken salad."

"I'm really sorry, Jon," Bella said, reaching over the table to grab his hand, "really, I didn't think-"

"Clearly," he interrupted her, then before he could take the words back, Lucas let out a scoff.

"Don't be such a prick, it's no one's fault," he said strongly. If Jonah had ever considered letting go of the matter with Bell's apology, he immediately changed his mind, zeroing Luke's face with a cold glare.

"It absolutely is her fault Leo just got so sick he can't get up from the bed! Anyone with a brain could realize he'd get carsick in a trip like this and we're only here because none of you can tell her no!"

"Jonah, calm do-" Wendy started, but he jerked away from her hand when it came to rest on his bicep, face burning, still glaring at Lucas, who seemed to inflate with just as much anger.

"Leo is a fucking adult who could've said no himself," Luke spat, "you treat him like a child, he's a grown man and if he's sick that sucks, but it's not Bell's fault-"

"So it's fine to push him around to make her happy, but Bella can't take any fucking responsibility!?" Jonah slammed his hand on the table and he was aware he was causing a scene, aware he wasn't that furious at Bella and this was all just exacerbated by the fact that Luke got on his nerves like no one else could. Still, that did not stop him.

"Push him around!?" Lucas stood up too, raising his voice, "who pushed him around!? We asked a simple question and he could've said no! You're acting like a dick because things didn't go your way, just grow the fuck up-"

"Luke, stop," Bella grabbed at his sleeve, trying to pull him down, "Jon's right, it's my-"

"Nice to know just how much you care about him or literally anyone who's not Bella," Jonah cut her off, "you selfish prick."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Jonah! He's carsick! He's not dying!"

"And Bella has four stitches, so we have to go on a fucking road trip to keep her happy! Hypocrite much?"

"Could you two stop?" Vince interrupted them, yanking at Lucas' arm and forcing him to sit back down, "I don't care if you want to squabble like two teenagers, but this is a family dinner, so show some fucking respect. Shut up, Jonah," he snapped as Jon opened his mouth, "either solve this outside or you both shut the fuck up."

"Fine," Jonah scoffed, getting up and power walking outside, "as soon as Leo is better we're getting the fuck out of here."

He was still seething as he entered their room back again, almost trembling with rage to quell the desire to slam the door shut, but not wanting to wake Leo up...

"Leo?" Jonah frowned, his voice coming out at least an octave deeper with how angry he was. The bed was empty, "Leo?"

"Here..." Leo croaked from the bathroom and Jonah took a deep breath to calm himself down, before walking to his boyfriend.

He was expecting to find Leo looking like death, but still he wasn't prepared. His hair was matted down and he was shirtless, lying against the bathtub while his chest heaved with a tired panting.

"Why are you shirtless?" Jonah frowned, crouching down and Leo let out a tired scoff, his head lolling a little as if his neck couldn't support it.

"Puked on my shirt."

"Fuck," Jonah cupped his cheeks, "the meds did nothing?"

"Made my puke pink," Leo said playfully, before pushing Jon's hand off his cheek so he could pitch forward with a gag, hastily pushing the toilet lid up. He coughed and gagged, bringing up frothy bile and then letting out a whimper, resting his forehead to the cold ceramic.

"My stomach hurts," he whined, shoulders shaking as he gulped down the tears, "Jon, I feel like shit..."

"I know, I know," Jonah bit down his lip, rubbing his naked back. He wanted Leo in a hospital, with a nice IV hooked to his arm, zofran knocking him out. Instead they were in the middle of nowhere and he could clearly tell Leo was starting to get dehydrated.

"Please do something," Leo whimpered, hugging his stomach with both arms, "I don't understand how I'm-" he gulped down, "still sick..."

Jonah felt helpless as he said, "you gotta drink water, Leo."

"It's just gonna come back up," the blonde groaned, curling up as much as he could, "everything else did..."

"I know, but at least it won't hurt your throat as much and you won't be super dehydrated..."

Leo groaned and moaned as Jonah stepped outside the bathroom, returning with a bottle of water, "do I really have to?"

"Yes," he turned the cap, holding it to his lips, "c'mon baby, little gulps."

If Jonah ever entertained the idea the water was staying down, Leo got rid of that notion by burping against his hand, then mumbling "shit-" and turning to the toilet as the water came back up, just as transparent, practically ready to be bottled up again.

He panted heavily over the toilet, squeezing his eyes shut, "my head hurts..."

"It's because you're dehydrated," Jonah said, his heart squeezing, "let's try the water again, just a little sip."

Two hours later and a whole water bottle completely wasted and Jonah was at his wits end. Leo had long given up leaning over the toilet, since he had nothing to bring up, and was lying on the bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to Jonah's thigh, crying.

Or at least Jon thought he was crying, he wasn't exactly sure since the tears were few and scarce.

"Shhh, close your eyes," Jon combed his fingers through his hair, "your brain should make sense we're not moving soon..."

"Is this..." Leo sniffled, muffling a sick belch against his jeans, "is this how your vertigo feels?"

Jonah raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't know," he said, instead of answering worse, since he didn't want Leo to think he was being a baby. He wasn't being a baby, he was in pain.

"I'm so hungry," Leo groaned, rubbing his own stomach, "but just thinking about food..." he gagged and Jonah tensed up, wondering if he was about to get another splash of acid on his jeans. He was incredibly glad he hadn't eaten anything either, otherwise he'd have puked by now.

There was a knock on the door and Jonah let out a scoff, thumping his head back softly against the tiles. If it was Lucas acting like a kicked puppy, he didn't want to hear.

"Jon, the door..."

"I don't care," Jonah rubbed Leo's arm up and down, noticing he was covered in goosebumps from lying on the cold ground, "baby, let's go back to the bed?"

"I don't feel... Jon, I'm gonna puke again..."

"Right now?" Jonah grabbed his bicep, ready to hoist him up, but Leo shook his head, gulping down as acid reflux hit his throat.

"Soon..."

"Yeah, no," Jon decided, grabbing Leo and pulling him sitting up, "you're gonna catch fucking pneumonia lying on this cold ground, you can puke in the bucket by the bed, c'mon."

It was a hassle to bring Leo back to the bed when he was so unsteady on his feet and once they fell on the mattress, Jonah considered just lying there, with his boyfriend starfished on top of him, before there was yet another knock on the door.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, causing Leo to whine against his neck.

"Don't yell, my head is killing me..."

"Sorry," Jonah rolled them on the bed, fixing Leo's head on the pillow, "give me a second..." he walked to the door, deciding that he would punch Luke if he said yet another stupidity.

It was much to his surprise when he opened the door and his visitor was nearly an entire foot shorter than he was expecting.

Wendy was holding a little to-go box of food and she was pouting, "peace offering?"

Jonah raised his eyebrows, unsure if he accepted the peace offering when he knew damn well Wendy never let anything go, "what do you want?"

"I brought you food, since you're probably starving," she answered instead, holding the box before his face. He let out a sigh, stepping to the side in a wordless acceptance of her white flag and she entered the room, immediately gasping.

"Leo?!"

"Yeah, he's still throwing up, I don't know what to do..." Jonah said, while Wendy abandoned the box in the tiny table next to the frigobar and rushed to the bed, touching Leo's clammy cheeks.

"Hey, blondie, open your eyes for me..."

"He's awake, he's just weak," Jonah vouched, opening the box and immediately stuffing his mouth with the fried chicken she had brought. His stomach was hurting from hunger.

"Leo?" Wendy patted his cheeks, "honey, hey... Can you hear me?"

"Why are you in my room?" Leo answered and Jonah snorted at the bitchy type of comment that was normally reserved for his ears only. Wendy let out a relieved sigh.

"You look like death."

"Thanks, I feel like death too," Leo croaked, turning his face away from her touch, "stop pinching me."

"He's dehydrated," Wendy said, squeezing the skin between her index and thumb.

Jonah rolled his eyes, "I know, but he stopped puking for twenty minutes now. I'm gonna try water again."

"Water won't do," Wendy scoffed, getting up, "I still have the sublingual zofran I got for the Sicily trip..."

"You do?" Jon raised his eyebrows and Wendy glared at him.

"You'd know if you weren't sulking in your room."

"Stop being mean to him," Leo groaned, shoving Wendy's knee and she slapped his hand away, unbothered by the fact he was sick or not.

"I'm gonna be mean to him all I want. Ask your boyfriend why he made Bella cry," she said, before getting up and barging out to grab the medicine. Leo groaned, taking a second to be able to look at Jonah with glassy, unfocused eyes.

"You didn't."

"I didn't," Jonah agreed, but he wasn't sure of it. He had been so furious at Luke, he hadn't actually spared Bell a glance. Guilt made his stomach churn, "I don't think I did."

"Jon..." Leo groaned, then grimaced, planting a hand on his chest, his throat bobbing up and down. Jonah sighed, crossing the room in two steps and grabbing the ice bucket, holding it under Leo's chin to catch a thin dribble of water and bile.

The blonde groaned loudly, forcing up a sick belch and then collapsing against the pillows, struggling to catch his breath. He closed his eyes again, a pained frown on, then rasped, "go apologize..."

"You're out of your mind, poor thing," Jonah rolled his eyes, rubbing his back, "take a breath, baby, Wendy's got the good drugs. They'll knock you right out."

"Uhm..." Leo winced as a cramp hit his stomach, "apologize, Jon."

"Nope," Jonah leaned in, kissing his temple, "shhhh, stop talking."

Wendy walked back in the room, holding a paper box with tiny pink meds and now with a bottle of gatorade in her other hand. Jonah felt incredibly grateful, his cheeks burning with a guilty blush.

Surely Wendy was just exaggerating it, right?

"Open up," she bossed and Jonah gently forced Leo to open his mouth, the blonde frowning with indignance, but far too weak to fight him. Once the little pill was put on his tongue, Wendy glanced at her phone, checking the time.

"We need to wait fifteen minutes," she said, as if Jon didn't know that already. He stared at Leo, who was not asleep, but seemed to be, face all slack, slumped over the pillow.

"I didn't make her cry, did I?" he asked in a low voice, brushing Leo's sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

Wendy scoffed, "yes, you did."

"Bella doesn't cry," he argued weakly and Wendy glared at him, moving so he couldn't avoid her eyes.

"She does when she's got brain surgery literally fifteen days ago and some jackass decides to yell at her for wanting to get out of the house."

"I didn't yell at her," Jonah pouted and Wendy leveled him with a cold glare.

"Lucas is going to punch your teeth in," she warned him, "and I'm not lifting a finger to help."

"You are terrible to me," Jonah groaned, moving his hand down to Leo's cheeks, "baby? Are you still awake?"

"Unfortunately," Leo whined, but he sounded much more at ease, "I think the meds are kicking in..."

Wendy glanced at her phone, lifting it up so Jonah could see only seven minutes had passed. It wasn't time enough for the medication to be really acting, but regardless Jonah stroked Leo's cheek, whispering, "good, let's wait just a little bit more, love."

"Uhm, kay..." Leo yawned, slumping even more against the pillows.

Wendy gestured to the door with her head, mouthing the words "go apologize" and Jonah frowned, glaring at Leo, as if to say he couldn't just leave him alone. She rolled her eyes in response and gestured at herself, "I'm here."

Realizing he'd have no choice but to apologize, Jonah got up from the bed with a groan of his own, "if Luke punches me, I'm punching right back."

"He's not gonna punch you..." Leo mumbled, sleepily and Jon rolled his eyes at his little reassurance.

"I'll be right back."

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

As far as Luke was concerned, they should all just go and leave Jonah and Leo stranded behind. That'd teach him to not be a fucking asshole all the time.

Bella had started to openly cry in the diner and while Luke knew that the emotional fluctuations were a direct result of the head wound, that didn't stop him from seeing in red as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

"Shhh, Bell, calm down, calm down," he chanted, almost rocking her on the seat. Bella crying was out of character enough, but her crying in public and not minding it? He felt like he was the one with the head injury.

Vince let out a pitiful noise, moving closer, "beautiful, Jonah is just being a prick because he's worried about Leo, he doesn't mean that..." he reassured her, but Bella shook her head, her whole face all red.

"He-he-hessright," she sobbed, causing Luke to squeeze her just a little tighter.

"Jon hasn't been right about a thing in his entire life," he scoffed, kissing the top of her head, "don't listen to him, baby."

She wasn't listening, Jonah had successfully reduced Bella to a mess of nothing but tears and eventually they decided that having lunch there, where all the other patrons were still watching, wasn't gonna happen and they got their to-go boxes, Luke almost carrying Bell out of the seat as she still shook with sobs.

He was going to kill Jonah, he thought darkly, helping her into their room and trying, once again, to wipe the tears away, "babe, shhh, it's not that big of a deal, I promise you..."

"It - its though!" She curled up on the bed, hugging her knees, "he's right, it's my fault, I pro-proposed the trip, I-" her shoulders shook as she forced the words out, "I got Le-Leo sick and now Jon hates me and- I wish we had never gone in this st-stupid trip."

Lucas let out a scoff, rubbing her back, "no, Leo got sick, shit happens, it's got nothing to do with you..."

"You-you don't understand," Bella huffed, squirming away from him, "stop touching me."

"Bell..."

"S-stop!" She pushed him away, rolling on her side and curling up on fetal position on the bed, "just-just leave me alone."

Lucas moved away from her on the bed, but he didn't get up, watching her like a hawk. Eventually, the sobs stopped as Bella got knocked back, exhaustion taking her under.

There was a knock on the door and Lucas got up stiffly, cracking his neck. If it was Jon, he was going to wring his neck.

Except it wasn't, it was just Vin, holding a little cupcake, "I brought Bella her favorite."

"She's asleep," Lucas scoffed, moving away from the door to let his best friend in, "can you believe he called me selfish? That idiot?"

Vince shrugged, unbothered as he circled the bed to plant the cupcake near the bedside table on Bella's side and pushed a curl away from her face, "you're gonna wake her up, calm down."

"I'm going to kill him, that's what I'm gonna do," Luke decided, barging for the door, only for Vince to run after him and grab him by the back of his shirt.

"No, you're not. Leo's still sick, you're gonna stop being a prick yourself and sit the fuck down," Vin scoffed, dragging him back inside.

"He made her cry!"

"You helped!" Vince whisper yelled, shutting the door, pinching his nose bridge, "look, I know you're angry. I'd be too if I were in your shoes, but you can't just go deck Jon down. You're an adult, stop that, dude."

Lucas grumbled, crossing his arms and refusing to listen to reason, throwing Bella another anxious and guilty glare, "it's not fair she thinks it's her fault, Vince."

"I know, Luke, but punching Jon isn't gonna change that, it'll just make her feel worse," Vince sighed, sitting on the bed and tucking the blankets tighter around Bella. It caused Lucas' shoulder to drop, the gentle act of affection that Vince clearly wasn't thinking about.

They were his family, he didn't want to punch Jonah, even if he was furious at him. He certainly wasn't happy about Leo feeling sick either.

He settled back down on the chair, picking at to-go box of food, while Vince relaxed, now confident Luke wasn't about barge in the room two doors down.

Lucas was just about to calm down, when Bella stirred on the bed, fifteen minutes later. Vince moved as she lightly kicked him, letting out a groan and rolling on the bed, with a frown on.

"Bell?" Vin called, touching her arm, "you awake?"

She opened her eyes, confused, her brows meeting in a harsh frown, before sitting up suddenly and making a horrible choking noise... And throwing up all over her band t-shirt and the blankets on her lap.

"Fuck!" Vince lurched back, narrowly avoiding getting his arm covered in vomit since he was reaching to thump on her back. Lucas jumped up, circling the bed to grab the waste basket, but it was too late, the mess was made and chaos installed in the room.

"Shit," Luke cursed, holding the paper waste basket under her chin, while Vince moved on the bed to hold her hair back, tears starting to run down her cheek as Bella continued to heave.

"m'sorry-" she slurred, spitting a mouthful of acidic vomit inside the bin, wincing, "my head- my head'hurts..."

"Shhh, it's okay," Lucas whispered, rubbing her back, "it's alright, baby, don't worry about this."

"I made- made a mess," Bella coughed and Vince let out a little noise, bunching up her curls in one hand of his, twisting it in a knot.

"Don't worry about that, I'll take the blankets to the motel's laundry," he whispered, meeting Lucas concerned glare over her head.

"Yeah, I'm gonna help you out of this shirt, baby-" He glanced at Vince who nodded, getting up from the bed and moving to where Luke had unceremoniously dumped their bag hours before.

"Can it be one of yours?" he whispered, crouching down before the clothes and heard Luke's little "sure" as response.

Vince cringed as he fished out the shirt and could hear Bella whimpering and getting sick again, crying about how her head was exploding.

"Is this normal?" he asked, passing Luke the shirt and starting to peel off the ruined blankets from her lap, trying to avoid making a bigger mess.

"Yes... I don't know, I think so. The doctor wasn't very specific," Lucas said, still rubbing her back, "Bell, are you done?"

"I don't know," she groaned, voice echoing inside the bucket, "my stomach hurts."

"You don't think its a bug, is it?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No, everything... Everything just hurts, Luke..."

Vince successfully managed to get the blanket folded up and lifted it up, away from his body, "I'll be right back."

"C'mon, baby, let's get you cleaned up," Luke said, nodding to Vince and wrapping his wife's arms around his neck, lifting her up easily. He planted her sitting on the closed toilet, leaving the new shirt on top of the sink and carefully maneuvering the destroyed one off of her.

"This is so humiliating," Bella whimpered, curling up as Luke wiped her chin and mouth with a wad of toilet paper, "I'm tired, Luke..."

"You can slee-"

"No, I'm tired of this," Bella shook her head, "I'm tired of being sick and in pain, I'm- I'm tired. Please, make it stop..."

His heart squeezed and his eyes stung, causing Lucas to gulp against the knot in his throat, "babe, you're getting better, I promise you... "

"No, I can't, I can't do this anymore," Bella teared up all over again, "I'm so fucking exhausted and everything hurts and I- I made Leo sick and I hate this stupid trip and my stupid brain and-"

"Shhh, you're gonna make yourself sicker," Lucas interrupted, kissing her brow and carefully putting the new shirt over her head, "I know you're in pain, baby, but you have to know Leo wasn't your fault. None of this..."

"Except it fucking was," Bella scoffed, curling up on top of the toilet, hugging her knees to her chest, "I feel awful, Luke..."

There was a knock on the door, so Lucas rolled his eyes, jerking his head so he could yell "It's open!" to Vince, before looking back at her.

"No, it wasn't, Bell-"

"It was though," Bella insisted, a fresh new batch of tears running down her face, "Leo is sick and everything fucking hurts and I- I don't know what to do, I wish we were home..." she whimpered, clutching her head and Lucas flinched as he saw a thin line of blood start to run down her nose.

"We'll be home soon, baby," he said, while frantically rolling up more toilet paper, wiping the blood from under her nose, only for even more to continue to gush down.

"I don't... I don't feel well..." Bella mumbled, paling considerably and Lucas lurched, grabbing her by the shoulders before she could hit her head back against the metal flush.

"I got you, I got you-" except that he didn't. He was in way over his head, worried beyond logic and unsure of what to even do first. Bell's face white and clammy, her throat bobbing nervously as it looked she was about to throw up again, blood still gushing down her nose, covering her lip and her neck-

"Here," Jonah said, sidestepping him and holding a bunch of toilet paper under her nose, grabbing Bella's nose and squeezing the tip, while leaning her forward.

"Get the fuck out of here," Lucas scoffed, but there was no heat, he was too worried and too relieved it was Jon to give a shit.

"Shut up," Jonah kicked his thigh, then gestured for the trashcan, "get the bin, she's gonna be sick."

Lucas scrambled for it, holding it open just in time for Bella to let out yet another stream of vomit, barely gagging, sounding and looking out of it.

Jonah gagged, ducking his face in his shoulder and Luke ignored him, holding Bella's forehead.

"Shhh, get it up, baby..."

"I'mreally-" she burped again, choking in the sick, "m'reallyry-sorry..."

"I know, I know," he whispered, while Jonah let out a guilty whine above her head, rubbing her back.

"It's fine, don't think about it," he said, his voice a notch softer and Bella let out a groan, clutching the bin's edges until her knuckles turned white.

"Everything is spinning..."

"Bella, hey-" Lucas patted her cheek, "don't pass out, baby, open your eyes-"

"Luke," Jonah shook his head, his voice a whisper, "it's okay, she's okay," he said calmly, "I got her."

And he really did, because a second later Bella's spine gave up on her and her whole weight collapsed against Jon's leg. He cupped her head, crouching down to steady her on the seat and shoving Lucas out of the way.

"Let's get her lying down, feet up, it's probably just a blood pressure drop because of the nose bleed..."

If Lucas noticed just how his voice trembled, he didn't say anything. Together they managed to get Bella back in the bedroom, piling some pillows her under her legs to make the blood flow back up and then...

Then there was nothing to do.

Jonah moved uneasily, eyes darting from Bell to Luke and then back again, "I... I shouldn't have said that."

"I care about Leo," Lucas scoffed, at the same time as Jon spoke up.

Jonah let out a groan, rubbing his face, "yeah, I know, I'm just pissed off-"

"And I'm just pissed because you're not being fair with her," Lucas pouted, "if it's on anyone, it's on me. You know I was the one who asked Leo to tag along, not Bell."

"Because of Bella."

"I'm still the one who said it, so at least be pissed at me, not her."

Jonah let out a scoff, rolling his eyes, "I'm always pissed at you, Lucas, there's no difference there."

Luke snorted, carefully combing his fingers through Bella's hair, avoiding the stitches, "how's Leo?"

"Knocked out, still sick, dehydrated. Wendy got him some good drugs though, so I'm hopeful he'll feel better soon..."

An awkward silence followed and they both avoided each other's eyes, before Lucas huffed, "I'm sorry, this trip was a stupid idea."

"It wasn't," Jonah shook his head, "but bad fucking timing..." he sat on the edge of the bed, "I didn't mean to make her cry, I swear I didn't."

Luke raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, "well, you did."

"I'll apologize to her," Jonah promised, his pride be damned. Luke sighed, nodding.

"Fine, if you apologize to her."

"If you apologize to Leo for making him come."

"I didn't make him come."

"Lucas," Jonah glared at him and the other man pouted, nodding again.

"Fine, I'll apologize."