#stares in an ill and sickly way at them

[tendermiasma]

Still thinking about this

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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Masterlist

[allpiesforourown]

Roommate Binghe would absolutely make the most insanely hilarious Reddit thread that’s so out of touch with reality. I can just hear the comments begging him to give the woman he dates a break and just bend over and fuck his roommate already

That thought is literally what inspired this au for me in my head I had this idea of binghe saying "am I the asshole for not picking my BEST FRIEND OF TEN YEARS over a woman I've been dating for two weeks?" And it's one of those aita posts that have a deceptive title because everyone reads that and goes of course not! Then the actual post is this:

"I (21M) met my best friend (22M) when I was 11 and he was 12. I used to be really weak and scrawny back then, and he saw me getting bullied at the playground and became the first person who ever stood up for me. After that he asked his parents to hire my mom and we could finally move out of poverty. She was really sick at the time and getting a better paying job really helped her get better. I'm saying all this to show how important he is to me and why anyone should understand that he'll always be the most important person in the world to me.

He's also a bit sickly. Nothing severe but he has asthma and picks up illnesses way easier than most people, so I often take care of him.

Recently he said he wanted to meet my girlfriend, so I agreed the three of us should have dinner together at a nice restaurant. She was weirdly quiet the whole time, staring at the two of us talk. When we left it was late, and the night air was making him shiver, so I gave gege my jacket. I thought we'd all head our separate ways from there but my girlfriend got super moody and said it was my job to drive her back too?? I said "I'm not making gege walk back because you want me to drive you home" and she was about to yell at me when gege stepped between us and said I can drop her off and then take us home. It was annoying because she lives in the opposite direction but I agreed.

When we got to her apartment, instead of saying thanks and leaving, she said she wants to talk to me. Obviously I didn't want to leave my friend alone in the car, but he just smiled and said I should say goodnight to my girlfriend. He's always very sweet and indulgent to the people I date, to the point it's a little frustrating.

Once we were alone, she blew up at me, claiming I ignored her all evening. She got mad at me, saying that gege was wearing jeans and a full sleeve shirt while she was wearing a short dress and I gave my jacket to him instead. I explained to her that his immune system is weak so if he caught a chill he'd be sick way longer than if she got a cold.

That was our first argument. She got over it in a few days. but I didn't want her around gege anymore lest she said something about me "picking him over her" and made him feel guilty for no reason.

Afterwards she invited me to be her plus one at her cousin's wedding. I said I'd go but just two days before gege got really sick. I said I'd stay with him, but he insisted I go to the wedding and he'd get someone else to look after him. He mentioned this guy who I absolutely hate and that's when I knew I couldn't leave him in anyone else's care.

Gege's friend is a terrible influence on him. He's an idiot with no brain and a creep who clearly wants to take advantage of him. I absolutely could not leave the two of them alone when he was so vulnerable so I refused to leave him alone even for a few hours. Gege was too feverish to remember the wedding after the first day so he didn't say anything about it.

I was so busy taking care of him, I forgot to tell her I wouldn't be able to come to the wedding. I didn't bother picking up my phone until gege was back on his feet and saw about 50 missed calls all from her. When I called her back she was screaming so loud, gege could hear her even though she wasn't on speaker. After I hung up on her, he looked so sad and said he was sorry for being the reason I couldn't go. I told him I didn't even want to go and it was just her cousin, but for the last week he's had a perpetual frown on his usually smiling face. I feel so terrible. I want to tell him it's not his fault, of course I'd choose his HEALTH over a date, but he's really beating himself up about it... I hate that I made him feel that way.

Top comment: THAT'S THE PART YOU FEEL GUILTY FOR???? THAT YOUR GEGE FEELS BAD????????? NOT HOW YOU MISTREATED YOUR POOR GIRLFRIEND?????

Second comment: just fuck your best friend instead of making her suffer bro 😭😭

[sturnioloskyline]

flu season

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: illness, crying, language, sickening fluff(get it?)

summary: you get the flu and don’t tell matt, so he gets worried takes things into his own hands

being sick sucks. no one knew that bettter than y/n, who was currently buried under blankets on her couch in her apartment in la. this morning she woke up sweating with a pounding headache and an inability to breathe through the congestion in her nose.

she called in sick to work and stayed in bed until noon before mustering up enough strength to get up and make a cup of ramen noodles. she then settled to watch a movie on the couch, where she ended up falling asleep.

not far away, matt nervously chewed on the skin in his cheek as he stared at his phone. he had sent 5 texts to his girlfriend today, none of them having received a response.

matt knew this meant something was wrong, because usually y/n would text him a sweet “good morning” the second she started her day. they weren’t fighting, at least that matt knew of, so of course matt was sent into a anxious spiral over the lack of responses from his girlfriend.

finally, matt ripped his eyes away from the screen, walking over to the kitchen where his two brothers were standing, giggling to each other. matt ignored them and grabbed his car keys from the counter, immediately catching the other triplets’ attention.

“matt, where are you going?” chris whined.

“y/n’s.” matt quickly replied, stuffing the keys into his pocket and heading for the garage. chris and nick immediately looked to each other in worry at the expression on their brother’s face.

“is everything okay?” nick asked matt cautiously.

“i don’t know, she isn’t responding to any of my texts,” matt rambled, putting on his shoes. “i’m just gonna go make sure she’s okay.”

matt rushed out the door before his brothers could say anything else. he got in his car and began driving over to y/n’s place. he chewed on his lip nervously as he drove, his anxiety only growing the longer he didn’t hear from y/n.

after what seemed like hours, matt parked outside y/n’s apartment building and made his way home to her front door. he rang the doorbell immediately and stepped back to wait for her.

inside the apartment, y/n jolted awake at the sound of her doorbell ringing. her head was throbbing in pain, her throat was scratchy, and the air in her living room felt ten times colder than it was when she fell asleep. she got up from her nest on the couch and shivered, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around herself.

the doorbell rang again, creating a sense of urgency as y/n tried to compose herself somewhat for whoever could be ringing her doorbell and disrupting her afternoon. she struggled to the door, messing with the lock weakly before finally swinging the door open.

“y/n,” matt sighed in relief immediately as y/n opened the door.

“matt?” y/n croaked out in shock. heat rose to her cheeks. she hadn’t invited matt over, and was unprepared for him to see her. matt and y/n had only been dating for a while, and she had never been sick around her ever. “what are you doing here?”

“i needed to see if you were okay. are you okay?” matt asked, his face scrunching slightly with worry once again as his eyes scanned over y/n’s pale face.

y/n didn’t know if it was the shock of her boyfriend showing up to her apartment, the embarrassment she felt from her sickly look, or how miserably sick she felt, but suddenly her eyes watered and her lip trembled as she shook her head at matt.

“oh, baby,” matt whispered, stepping into the apartment and wrapping his arms around y/n.

she immediately melted into his arms, a weight on her shoulders lifted as matt locked the door behind him and held y/n in his arms in silence. tears streamed down her cheeks as she sniffled into his jacket. matt leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“wanna sit down?” matt asked as y/n’s cries softened. y/n simply nodded, letting matt lead her back to the couch. when the sat down, matt wrapped one arm around y/n frame, letting her lean into him. “what’s wrong?”

“i caught the flu.” y/n sniffed, rubbing her sore eyes. “i feel like shit.”

“i’m sorry baby,” matt whispered into y/n’s hair, letting his fingertips graze up and down her arm.

“i’m sorry you have to deal with this,” y/n mumbled, suddenly shy of matt seeing her with her messy hair and in t-shirt and sweats.

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” matt scoffed, bringing his hand to her cheek and tilting her head up to place a soft peck on her lips. as if sensing her insecurity, matt giggled “you look so pretty right now.”

y/n blushed and leaned impossibly further into matt’s arms. “can you stay here with me?”

“of course,” matt spoke softly, pulling y/n closer to his chest. a few minutes later, y/n’s breathing slowed, and matt looked down at her head buried in his chest.

“babe?” matt whispered. y/n didn’t respond. matt smiled at his girlfriend’s sleeping figure before reaching over to grab one of the blankets from the couch and draping it over both of their bodies. matt leaned his face down to kiss the top of y/n’s head, before letting his own eyes flutter shut.

…

author’s note: pls don’t bully me this is my first try! i literally have never written on tumblr before and i haven’t written in like 2 years anyways, so. but if u have any advice or want a part 2 pls let me know!!!!!! OK BYE

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (TEASER)

#full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, typical canon violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS

A/N: this fic is so long rn lol I just have to release a piece of it into the wild :sob: feel free to reply if you want to be tagged for the full story when it's ready

☆☆☆

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

“They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated. “They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

[hyperfixat]

day 14 of ai less whumptober: No Anesthesia

supporting these posts helps encourage my writing and creating, thanks!

(@ailesswhumptober)

The sound of one of your joints popping and the breaking of a bone are terribly similar.  Too similar, in fact.  The brothers have broken many bones in their infinite time. 

The first snap, crackle, pop of your joints had made everyone in the room freeze.  Leviathan, in the middle of talking about some new limited Ruri-chan figure, stopped.  All seven pairs of eyes stare at you in horror.

 Did the human die?  Are they broken?  Fragile thing, what would Lord Diavolo say?  

You freeze as well, hands intertwined and held above your head.

Lucifer seems to have gotten even paler than his usual pale-ness.  Mammon’s gaze catches yours and is filled with absolute horror, and Asmo.  Asmodeus looks on the verge of illness, eyes wide and face sickly gray.

“Ohmygod,” Levi breathes out in absolute shock.

“What’s wrong?” You’re a little nervous at their odd behavior, and as to what happened to make their moods flip so suddenly.

“Are you okay?”  Satan is on his feet, walking over to you, attempting to inspect you for any injuries.  Mammon flies to his feet as well.

“Hey, hey hands to yourself!  The Great Mammon can do that.”  He pushes Satan aside without any real force.  Together their hands and eyes cover you, like a TSA pat down.

“Does anything hurt?”  Lucifer asks while you’re nearly being groped.

“No?”  Confusion fills your voice.

A worried whimper comes out of Beel and he turns to Belphie, “so bad it’s numb.”  You think you hear him say.

“Nothing seems broken,” Satan says, he’s squatting down to check your legs and feet.  He lifts himself to standing.  His eyes are somber as he gently takes hold of your shoulders.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mammon shifts on his feet behind you, hand brushing over your shoulder blades, where you popped.

“Yeah?  I was just stretching…”

Asmo inches over to you, crawling on the floor slowly like you’re a landmine that could detonate at any second.

“You cracked.”  It’s an accusation.  Lucifer near glowers at you.

“It happens.”  You shrug.

“No it doesn’t,” Lucifer glares this time.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s normal,” you side eye him.  

A hand on the hem of your pants.  Asmo looks up at you, horror still plastered on his face.

Dramatic.

You pat his head and some color returns to his face.

“What happened then?”  Belphegor challenges you.

“I cracked my back.”

“How?”  Mammon’s jaw drops.  “That’s horrible.”

“It feels good.”  You defend.  “You guys can’t crack things?”

“No!”  Asmo cries out.  “That sounded horrendous.”

“Oh.”

It’s confusing, demons and angels don’t make sounds like that.  No one hasn’t let themself grow used to the noise, they’ll never let themselves.  Because the haunting what if? will never leave.

Eyes always fly to you the second one of your bones shift; it’s sweet they care, but they’re worried over nothing!  You’ve never broken a bone, ever.

You jinxed yourself.

Today you broke a bone.  Well, you’re pretty sure you’ve at least done something you shouldn’t have to your bone.  The splintered edge of the bone sticks out gruesomely from your forearm.  Yeah, that’s not normal.

Blood drips onto the bathroom floor and you don’t know why you aren’t crying right now.  The demon had handled you too roughly.  Shoved you out of the way too hard and you hit the air dryer bolted into the wall then this happened.

They had looked at you with a mixture of shock and fear as the sickening crunch of your arm registered, and the coppery scent of blood began filling the air.  Panic took over the stranger and they ran out of the bathroom, leaving you to sit on the floor and stare in shock at your horrible looking arm.

Your stomach churns and you look towards the ceiling and blink to try and clear your mind.

The demon fled the second his actions dawned upon them, fleeing the scene of the crime.  Smart fella.

The scent of blood permeates the air and you know you won’t be alone for long.  A hungry demon is bound to find you the way you are just bleeding.

And just as the thought hits you, the bathroom door flies open and Asmo is rushing towards you.  Concern and panic lace his features as he places a gentle hand on your injured arm.  You wince.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to get this tied off.”  His voice is sweet and your head rolls to the side as you relax, because your Asmo is here.  Things’ll be alright now.  Mammon stands anxiously behind him, avoiding looking at your wound.  

The bathroom door has swung closed again and you relish in the privacy of having you Asmo and Mammon take care of you.

“Oh, who did this, MC?” Asmo keeps the lilt in his voice, although it is strained.  “Hmm?  Who would hurt you?”  Golden eyes attempting to meet yours.

You crane your head further back to avoid the lure of Asmodeus’ eyes, “it was an accident.” 

There’s a tug at the junction of your elbow. 

He makes a displeased hum, “Mammon, fetch Satan for me, he’ll know how to fix this better than me.  Oh, Barbatos too if you happen across him.”

Mammon gives your uninjured arm a pat and follows orders.

“Alright sweetheart,” Asmo kisses your cheek, “this might hurt a bit.  I’m gonna have a little bit of help to fix your arm up.  You’re in good hands, doll.”

You hear ripping fabric then have to hold back a scream as Asmo begins to wrap the exposed gore.

“I know,” he sighs sympathetically.  “I know.”  He keeps it tight on your arm and you take some deep breaths.

The door swings back open and Satan and Mammon come in, Barbatos in tow.  Satan’s face twists into a grimace as the scent registers.  The two that Mammon fetched kneel at your sides adjacent to Asmo, Barbatos tears his white gloves off and takes hold of your upper arm, applying firm pressure.

“Fuck,” Satan hisses out, fidiling with his pockets.  He pulls out something silver and metallic and you wince and turn away.  

When you do so you bump your face into Mammon’s chest, where he’d taken to holding you steady.

You do your best to keep quiet when you feel them begin to work on your arm, but you can’t help a pained, breathless moan.

“Sorry, your pain cannot be helped,” Barbatos puts his bare hand on your knee and attempts to give it a comforting squeeze.  It doesn’t do much, but you're grateful.

You feel sharpness cutting away at flesh and muscle.  Your eyes bulge and you grip Mammon’s forearm with all the strength you can muster.

Fuck, it hurts so bad, it’s all you can do not to scream or passout.

“Shh,” Asmo soothes, you peek an eye open and glare at him.

“I can’t,” you stutter out.

“Yes you can, I’m almost done.” Satan says, voice plain.

You feel Barbatos stand and walk to the dryer you were shoved into.  Peeking out the corner of your eye you see him crouch and investigate.  His bloodied white glove runs through the half dried viscera painting the floor.  You’re torn away from watching him when a new pain rocks through your nerves. 

A sharp crunch resonates through your body as Asmodeus and Satan shove your bone back into place.  You let out a hoarse squeal and there’s a fresh round of hushing from Asmo and Mammon.  Your breaths come in wheezing bursts and Barbatos comes to kneel a bit in front of you.

“I trust these  three with fixing you up for now.  I must report this to the Young Master.”  Barbatos gives a sympathetic smile and stands to leave.  “I will tend to you at a later point, MC.”

A sharp, pointed pain in, and a sharp pain out.  Steeling your nerves you peek at your newly shoved back inside arm to see Asmo sewing your flesh shut as Satan holds it closed.

It takes an excruciatingly long three minutes for them to finish and tie off the stitches.

“Now, darling,” Asmo’s stained hand reaches to cup your jaw, “when we get home, we’ll talk about finding whoever did this to you.”

“Don’t be too harsh now, Asmodeus.”  Satan chides, holding your injured arm soothingly.  “They’re sure to be in a lot of pain right now.  Save that conversation for when they’re feeling better, okay?”  When he finishes the sentence, he nuzzles into the side of your head affectionately.  

“Let’s get you home now,” Asmo says, blatantly ignoring his older brother.

As Mammon helps you to your feet he speaks, “we should probably stop by the student council office and let Lucifer know that they’ll be missing from classes.  And,” Mammon turns his attention to you.  “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be with you the whole time you’re healin’ up!”

[historyslittlebish]

Illness won't stop love (Cured!King Baldwin IV x Witch!Female!Reader)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

a/n: I have never watched kingdom of heaven before but I know of it because my sister watched it so I am gonna write for the king :)

Warning: unrealistic but okay, religious stuff, occ?

Baldwin groaned as he sat on his throne. He praised himself for getting all the diplomatic work done half the time he usually completes.

Every passing day his bones and muscles ached, his mind spinning, overwhelmed with his kingly duties. His mind was filled with thoughts and plans but he was too weak to act on them.

While determined and strong willed, he was aware of his sickly disease and how weak he is compared to anyone else. He often spent time looking up, thoughts of gods plan with him.

Why?

Why would god plague him with such illness, what had he done? What was his sin against his creator? he often found himself praying that he could, maybe, just maybe, be cured and continue to live and be the greatest king he could be, have a wife and an heir, to live his life to the fullest with no worry of death coming as soon as he always prepared himself for.

He knows he should not question God, and be grateful for his life but even then his mind does not stop thinking such thoughts.

He sat still staring into nothing, deep in thought as a few servants scuttled about, cleaning and tending to the throne room. The sounds of their whispering had started bothering him, the constant sound of pattering feet didn't allow him to think.

He slowly rose before clearing his throat. Some of the servants looked over in surprise and curiosity.

"I would like to be left alone, please." His voice is steady, firm, but gentle and warm. His servants rushed to leave the room allowing the king his privacy.

He sighed as he sat down once more. Alone in his own thoughts, he allowed himself to be consumed by his own mind, each thought, idea, word, running through his brain as he rested his eyes, deeply in his imagination.

Not too long after however does he hear a female yelp, a loud thud, and someone shuffling around the marble floor.

His eyes snapped open as he saw a small amount of mist covering a figure slightly. His eyes widened in surprise and shock as he stared at the woman in front of him. She wore odd clothes, not the kind he's seen before, her H/C was beautiful to him, mesmerizing even. Her S/C looked so soft in comparison to his heavily scarred and sore ridden skin.

He stood up and suddenly the strange and foreign woman stared at him before getting on her knees and bowing deeply, lifting her head enough to look back up at him.

"My king." She stated.

"Rise." Baldwin said as he motioned with his hand for the woman to stand. Slowly she did stand and still have a respectful demeanor.

"Who are you, and why do you come here?" She looked up, her E/C looking into his blue irises. She inhaled before kneeling and leaving her hands by her side "My king, I present myself as a witch from the North. I've heard of a prophecy that you will need to defeat Saladin but not without outside forces," She rose from her knees and reached into a small pouch, holding a vile with blue liquid, glowing and bubbling. "I've come to present to you a cure. You have my heart should I speak the lies of the devil himself.".

Baldwin was shocked and scared. A witch in his holy kingdom? Witchcraft is the devil's work. He could not decide if he should call his soldiers and risk the witch woman to hex him or to continue the conversation, only to eventually be found dead without reason, or to many, his leprosy being the cause.

He took the latter and prayed that no harm would come to him.

"Well witch, I want proof." The woman nodded and held her arm to her side, F/C mist circling the room, a wall of fog covered the walls of the room. The mist streamed into the middle of the room and created a circle, creating a pocket of white particles creating images.

They showed him being crowned king all the way to his death at an old age.

he could not believe his eyes. The images showed such small moments in his life that he could not recollect well but they were perfect for what he was told.

The mist that engulfed the room suddenly retracted and disappeared into the air.

He stared at the witch who stared back but with a slight fear in her eyes, not knowing if she would be in danger or not. Baldwin's breath hitched but he sat down. He racked his brain for thoughts but he was very overwhelmed by the information. He clutched his head and rubbed at his temples.

The two stayed in silence for a few minutes before the king made his choice.

"I shall take this potion if what you say is true." He murmured.

The witch stepped forward towards the kind on his throne and handed him the bottle gently before stepping back.

"I warn you my king, you will fall in a deep slumber, alive and well, but deep for the whole day." The king contemplated her words but slowly opened the bottle and drank the liquid completely.

After a few moments his head began to spun and he almost collapsed to the floor before a warm pair of arms caught him and held him before his eyes completely shut and he fell into a deep slumber.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Baldwin squinted his eyes as the sun peaked through the window in the early morning. The light was dim due to the window covers but it was still bright to him. He slowly raised his body but was confused when he could feel his body weight shift onto his legs. He had lost feelings partly in his legs and arms but he could feel himself twitch and move on his entire body.

He was wearing some white sleepwear that he doesn't remember putting on and his mask was on the side of his bed. He was confused but slowly walked over to the mirror.

His eyes widened and he stumbled back but caught himself before he fell on the cold, hard floor.

He saw himself but no longer disfigured or ridden with rashes and sores. His golden locks framed his face, his eyes looking deep into his in the mirror, his skin was just glowey as the witch he had seen.

That's when it hit him.

The witch had saved him, the lovely witch that had given him a potion that she said would heal him and allow him to live his life fully.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The whole castle was chattering with loud and bright voices. Their king was not only cured by gods miracle but he would be able to soon produce an heir should he be willing.

He sat on his throne thinking of the memory of you. You, you were to be his wife, you saved him, he could live without the fear of dying anytime soon.

Baldwin got a surge of confidence, he was determined to get you to come back but first he had to deal with royal affairs but nothing could slow him down, not anymore.

a/n: Part 2? Yes. I need to make a male version for anon OR male reader hcs for our king. Sorry if its shit though.

a/n 2: the part 2 will be linked to this post and mostly everyone who comments will be tagged (I'll try) but yeah! It's in the works

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 15

Hood remained silent, even as he clenched the gun tightly in his hand. He hadn't even seen a hint of green portals or blond elfs but 200 witnesses couldn't all be wrong.

All of them had stated that a white haired meta with a gas mask was working with a blond elf with a leaf mask and that they had been the ones kidnapping the kids and teens of Gotham.

Jason had heard stories of fairies snatching kids and infants, sometimes swapping them out with a sickly one of thier own. But there were no trades that Jason knew of. Only missing kids.

Hell, all of the biggest child gangs around Crime Alley and the Narrows were gone.

As in gone gone. Not a single member was left nor any trace of where they could have been taken to. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need to ask for help from the Justice League Dark...

---

Link stared down at the kids from his rooftop perch.

They looked...cleaner. Happier. They had gained a healthy amount of weight, no longer stick thin and weak looking. They had season appropriate clothing without holes and others hidden away in chests and armours for the coming seasons far off from now.

His spirit friend, Phantom, had panicked a bit after he realized what they were doing was trafficking, but calmed down once he pointed out that these kids would have a much better life in Hyrule than they would have had in the rotting trashpit that was Gotham.

If they would have lived much longer at all

Still, thier presence here was mutually beneficial. Hyrule had lost over 80% of its population in the Great Calamity and they were no where close to regaining the population they once had. All of thier forts, training areas, ect were specifically targeted and destroyed in the attacks and gardians and monsters were left in the ruins to ensure they could not rebuild what was lost

Which led to the bigger issues at hand. All the empty occupations.

The castle, and thus castle town, were ground zero for the disaster that wiped out the Hylian peoples. With it many businesses and trades were lost. Hyrule had few soldiers and those they did have desperately needed armor, weapons and training.

That wasn't all. Hudson construction had attempted to repair Castle town and eventually the castle, but they were wood workers, not stone masons. They knew little of the craft that was needed.

There were lessons and information in the castle archives covering most of the jobs and trades, as well as how to proform them, but the princess didn't see it as a priority. They didn't have the people necessary to teach these crafts and the castle and town surrounding wasn't really a priority anyway. Not with all the people who still needed help around the kingdom.

Phantom helped a lot too. Other than helping them build towns for the kids (the child gangs actually really liked having a town all to themselves) he did a lot of other random jobs around the kingdom, much like Link himself.

Unfortunately, his next trip to Gotham lead to a run in with the "Red Hood" and the phrase, "Was that a fucking fruit grenade?!" Link did not know what the word "Fucking" meant but the Hood man would not tell him. He is learning a lot of new words from this guy, words that Phantom appearently didn't like cause he loudly scolded Red Hood like a naughty child the first time they met. It was hilarious to see this tiny 15 year old tell off a giant tank of a man.

Link couldn't see the mans expression due to the odd red helm the man wore, but he could tell he was cowed, even if just a bit. Then he began speaking to someone who wasn't there while pressing his finger to the side of his helm where his ear should be. Is Red Hood ill? Does he have a mind sickness like the ones Phantom told him of when describing his parents? Or is this something Link doesn't yet understand...either way he doesn't think he's getting more children for Hyrules future in this trip...or anytime soon if those ominous masked people landing on the rooftops around them had any say in the matter.

[xaviers-star-tassel]

⭐️ sleep, i’m here

✦ pairing: xavier / gn!reader

✦ genre: fluff

✦ warnings: hopefully, none

✦ word count: 1.6k words

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ: you’ve recently had troubles falling asleep. luckily, your sleepy neighbor and partner is there to help

⋆˙ ✦ note: this is my first ever fic that i uploaded, so it might not be perfect! i may or may not upload more in the future, depends on how well this will do. i have to thank my friend for finally giving me the kick to actually upload this, because i would probably never post this if it weren’t for them

another sleepless night. turn after turn, no matter what you did, you just couldn’t turn your mind off. it had been like this for over a week. eyes droopy, skin sickly paler than usual. you were a mess with the darkest circles under your eyes.

you couldn’t even think straight. with how tired you were, your performance during missions got sloppy. mistakes, mishaps, injuries. things that were usually rare in your case, were now a daily part of your work. your skin was covered in cuts and bruises, making each squirm against the soft mattress painful.

whenever someone asked if you were doing well, you mustered up the speckle of energy to cover up the exhaustion pulsing within every particle of your body. others seemed to brush it off, even tara asked about your well being less frequently. though, unbeknownst to you, there was one person who was keeping an eye on you, even more than before.

that someone was none other than your partner and neighbor—xavier.

since he was always making sure you were safe, you didn’t particularly found his concern strange. it was nothing out of the ordinary, at least that was how it seemed to you. perhaps it was your sleep deprived mind, because you seemed to be utterly blind to his actions.

whenever your head was close to bumping a corner of your desk when you dropped your pen, his hand was quick to cover it. when you couldn’t keep your eyes open while filing documents, he secretly left a cup of coffee on your desk. your tired mind was making you believe you were slowly losing it at the sight of freshly brewed coffee, as bitter as possible to give you the energetic kick you need. bitter like the one from xavier’s brewing machine, you always thought to yourself as you took a sip, then cringed at the taste.

as you continued to restlessly lie on your bed, not even a blink of sleep coming to you, you tossed your blanket aside to sit up. your eyelids were heavy and sight blurry as tears of frustration welled up in your eyes. you wanted to cry, but you were tired even for that.

oh, how you wanted to steal at least a little of xavier’s drowsiness at that moment. you were sure that your neighbor was now sleeping soundly, while you were suffering in the darkness of your bedroom.

when you dropped yourself back onto the mattress, a sudden ring of your phone tore you away from a total breakdown. without looking, you picked your phone up. your eyes slowly adjusted to the light upon turning it on, and you were met with a message from xavier. huh, speak of the devil.

xavier: Are U awake

you stared at the adorable bunny chat bubble for a good minute. in your astonishment, you didn’t even manage to get bothered by the capitalized ‘U’ in the middle of a sentence like you usually did. your thumbs slowly typed in a short ‘yes’ before sending it, surprising you once more at the speed he read it.

xavier: Come here. Ill leave the door open for U

was he really just inviting you to his place in the middle of the night? why was he not asleep? despite your confusion, you didn’t hesitate to take up on his offer. leaving the last text unanswered, you lazily got up from the bed. with the phone in your hand, and a pair of slippers on your feet, you made your way out of your apartment.

you walked quietly along the hallway, careful not to disturb the neighbors. since he lived on the floor above yours, you found it useless to wait for the elevator. somehow, the idea of seeing xavier fueled you with at least enough energy to walk up to his apartment on your own tired feet, and it took only a minute or two for you to stand before the door, which were in fact opened just for you.

you barged into xavier’s apartment with a quiet step, closing the door behind your back. when the lock clicked, the silver haired head poked out from behind the doorframe of his bedroom. he smiled upon seeing you, silently inviting you in.

with your eyes half closed, you waddled to him. every step you took suddenly felt heavy, as if your entire skeleton was made of steel. the short distance that was the hall of his apartment appeared to be endless to your aching body.

finally, you were standing next to him. your head dropped onto his shoulder, which was something you wouldn’t normally do without feeling flustered. but with how exhausted you were, you couldn’t care less as you closed the small gap between you.

“there you go,” he muttered into the crown of your head, lips pressed against your hair.

your only answer was a low grumble that vibrated from your chest. xavier wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you to his bed. he gently laid you on the left side of the mattress before crawling up to you.

you watched his every move. he made himself comfortable on his side to face you, one arm bent under his head and the other propped against your waist.

the dim light radiating from the lamp behind you illuminated his face, letting you see the worried expression on his face. he studied your features without uttering a word, his warm breath caressing your cheeks. reaching his arm up, he cupped your face. the pad of his thumb rubbed the deep dark circles underneath your eyes, his touch careful and gentle.

“why didn’t you tell me anything?” he suddenly asked, catching you off guard.

you let out a sigh, pressing your cheek against his calloused palm. “i didn’t want to worry you.”

silent chuckle erupted from his throat as he shook his head. his hand slid down from your face back to your waist, expression no longer as tense as it was a second ago.

“you know i’d worry no matter what, right? after all, it was me who was making sure you wouldn’t hit your head against your desk whenever you dropped your pen,” he whispered with a smile.

this revelation had left you surprised. connecting the dots in your brain, all of the images appeared in a clear vision between your eyes. from the freshly brewed bitter coffee to the neat stack of documents that you left scattered on your desk the day before. it was all him. and only now were you realizing it.

“so i wasn’t going insane. thank goodness, i thought that my mind was playing tricks with me,” you joked meekly, huffing a laugh through your nose.

his eyes softened when he heard you laugh briefly, though deep down, he was still worried. how couldn’t he be worried? not once had he saved you from your potential doom while fighting off wanderers within the last few days.

“still, you should’ve told me,” he scolded you, though not very sternly. he didn’t have the heart to be hard on you when you looked like a distressed bundle of drowsiness.

you hummed in acknowledgment. guilt suddenly washed over you that you didn’t notice it sooner, but it was too late to cry over spilled milk.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, glancing into his eyes.

xavier took your hand in his, inspecting the scrapes and small cuts on your fingers and palm. he lifted the hand upwards, letting his lips graze over your knuckles.

“please, don’t apologize to me. you did nothing wrong,” he said softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “just… let me know in the future. i don’t want to see you like this.”

the caring tone made you feel slightly emotional, if only you realized sooner just how worried he was.

“i will, xavier. i promise,” you nodded, lips curling into a tired smile.

he extended his pinky finger toward you, smiling while doing so. “then let’s seal the deal. pinky promises shall never be broken.”

you chuckled at the silly gesture, but you complied anyway. your pinky fingers hooked together, holding them right under your chin. only then you realized how small the gap between your faces was. the tip of his nose was merely inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your skin.

your gaze flickered down to his pink lips, the sudden desire to kiss them bubbled within your chest. xavier noticed where you stared right away, making his ears turn faint red. as if he could read your mind, he slowly began to lean in. his deep blue eyes were focused on yours, closing them only after his lips touched yours.

he hummed in what seemed like relief as he melted into the kiss. the world suddenly fell completely still, the only thing that mattered was the tender moment you shared. xavier unhooked his pinky from yours to pull you closer to him, desperately wanting to feel your warmth.

the kiss only lasted a few seconds before you pulled away. thanks to the soft light of the lamp, you caught a glimpse of the reddish dust on his cheeks. you watched as he took a deep breath before relaxing his head against the fluffy pillow.

“let’s take a day off. you must catch up on sleep, even if you’ll sleep for a whole day,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering close.

“is that really okay?” you asked worriedly.

“yes, i’m sure others will understand. now sleep, i’m here for you,” he pressed a last kiss to your forehead before relaxing completely.

the comfort and the heat radiating from his body was slowly but surely lulling you to much needed sleep. letting out a small yawn, you pressed your forehead to his chest. your breathing pattern slowed down, signaling to xavier that you had fallen asleep.

“no matter what happens, i’ll always be there for you. that is my promise to you.”

© xaviers-star-tassel

[un-lawliet]

hii! how about care of gojo while he’s sick? he’s stubborn, believing he’s alright but he desperately wants your help. or maybe just taking care of gojo in general. cleaning him up after mission, making sure he gets his daily water, etc. thank you for reading!

( HIIII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST SATORUSTAR <333 id be so happy to write this bc sick Gojo is my absolute fave troupe ever - thank u again :))) )

“Taking Turns”

— i n which Gojo is sick, and you’re fed up.

(or my love language is acts of service and this scratches my brain)

Gojo Satoru was ridiculous.

Childish, frustrating and stubborn.

And very, undoubtedly sick.

His nose slightly red from rubbing it, and his eyes watery with exhaustion, and yet, he was adamant that he was fine.

A slurred out, “I can’t get sick baby! I’m the strongest.” Made you glare at him, an exaggerated dip in your eyebrows.

He smiled, lopsided and stupid, before stumbling walking over to you, to place a delicate kiss on your cheek before he left for work, blindfold in hand, like he did, every morning before he left.

A ritual that use to make you swoon, but now only left you frustrated, as you swerved his advance.

He let out a dramatic gasp, standing up to his full height, horrified of your rejection, and ready to protest against your cruelty, before he began to cough, and cough, and oh my god was it possible to die from coughing?

“Satoru, you’re sick, go back to bed.” You deadpanned, cocking your head to stare him down, and he only whined in response.

“Don’t-’ He spluttered through coughs, “Don’t look at me baby, advert your eyes!” And you only rolled them in response, placing a hand on his chest, as the coughing finally finished, your eyes laced with concern because yes, he was unforgivingly stubborn when ill, but you loved him, and you were going to take of him, no matter what excuses he threw your way.

“Come on Toru, let’s get you back in bed ok?”

And maybe it was because he finally felt his exhaustion hit him; or maybe it was because the way you looked at him, with such selfless concern, made his chest feel fuzzy, but he eventually took your hand off of his chest and clutched it tightly, letting you lead him back to your bedroom quietly.

He was silent as you pulled the covers over him and placed a kiss on his head, your hand moving to gently scratch the back of his head, choosing not to mention how he leaned into your touch.

“Drink your tea ok? I’ll call Yaga.” You all but whispered, “If you can’t finish it, that’s ok, just take your time.”

And Gojo nodded, smiling at you as you placed the cup into his hands, leaving to grab your phone.

It was strange to be taken care of.

It aroused something in Gojo, a feeling he chose to blame on the dizziness in his head and the sickly fever that incased his being.

And so when you returned, holding a cupcake you had saved just for him he had to physically restrain himself from cooing at your affections, instead settling on teasing you for "Constantly thinking about him."

"Must be obsessed with me, sweets." He winked, and grinned like a fool when you huffed, rolling your eyes, again.

"Just eat it or I swear to God, I will shove it down your throat myself, sick or not."

And he pouted, "So mean to me baby, and when I'm so unwell too."

"I thought were too strong to get sick huh." You smugly said, pushing your hand through his hair gently, and he almost melted at your touch.

His lack of answer made you giggle, and he groaned in defeat, settling on pulling you down beside him, needily searching for your warmth.

And you gave it to him, moving him to rest his head on your lap and you pressed a kiss to his forehead, frowning at his temperature.

“You're really warm Toru' You say, using a finger to trace the features on his face, his eyes closing in bliss.

"I'm gonna get you a towel, hold on-" You were cut off by Gojo grasping your wrist, his eyes opening to look at you.

"No, stay, just for a moment." He all but pleaded, a tiny kink in his voice daring you to try reject him.

“I don’t want you to get worse Toru.’” You replied, looking down at him.

A small tug on your wrist was your only response, the only confirmation that he heard you.

And you sighed.

And returned to your shared serenity.

Because of course you did.

It was hard to say no to Satoru Gojo, and so you stayed, giving him tiny kisses as he began to doze off.

Kisses that promised him that you were there. And reassured him that he could rely on you, even for just a little bit, just like how you let him take care of you.

And right as he fell asleep, he whispered a soft, “Love you.” As an acknowledgment to your oath of care.

the end.

masterlist here <3

(A/N THIS FIC DIDNT SAVE AND OHMYGOD IVE NEVER BEEN SO FRUSTRATED anyway THANK U SO SO SO MUCH FOR ANOTHER REQUEST I LOVE U THANK U I HOPE THIS IS OK !!!!!! - also am i supposed to tag the person who requests ?? i’m so unsure i’m sorry)

[cinnamonest]

Also on note of that “bone breaking” post I believe Xiao is an absolute menace to the innkeepers because of his inability to gauge human sickness and injury. He's thoroughly convinced any slight discomfort you experience is a near-death situation.

Human life is incredibly fragile. Their bodies are nearly unbelievably susceptible to death from even very mild injuries and sicknesses, they die so easily it's frightening. Which is why he has to be very vigilant with you.

You once got a bit nauseous from eating something a bit past expiry date — you insist it's just food poisoning over and over, but he practically drags you to a pharmacist anyway “just in case,” because there are many deadly pathogens and parasites humans can die from that begin this way, and you will drop dead before you even know something is wrong.

If you have a headache, it's probably an oncoming aneurysm that will cause sudden death. You may think you have a mere common cold, but he is well aware that many very dangerous and severe illnesses begin as symptoms of common colds, some of which progress so rapidly you may not have time to notice before sudden death.

You try to explain your throat hurts because what you ate is giving you heartburn, but if it has the word heart, which is a very vital organ, that can only mean you are at great risk of, you guessed it, sudden death.

More than once now you've been sleeping a little too deeply — your breaths are so slow that it looks like you're barely breathing at all, so he has to shake you awake to ensure you are still alive. Any cough or sneeze is met with this head-jerk in your direction and yellow eyes wide open staring in panic, and you have to swear up and down you just got swallowed the wrong way or inhaled some dust.

Not even period pains are safe — it's normal, so you insist, you can't hide your discomfort so you're all but begging him not to worry about it, but this one time he remembers about seven hundred years ago he once heard a villager mention a woman who had internal bleeding mistaken for just that and died, so it must be seen professionally (yes, each month). The whole concept bothers him — you're bleeding and in pain, those things are bad, how can you be sure it's the normal amount of bleeding and pain and not too much, that you're not actually five minutes away from dropping dead? That's right, you can't know, which is why you have to let him carry you to the harbor for the third time this week.

Injury is even worse — yes, he's aware that human flesh bruises easily, but this bruise is on your ribcage, and you don't recall how it got there, there are organs underneath there and you could very well be internally bleeding out.

Both innkeepers are, at this point, used to him coming bounding into the main lobby in full-fledged panic, demanding to hand over the emergency medical kit kept by the front desk so he can save you from bleeding out (you accidentally cut your finger on a splinter on the baseboard), and they no longer bat an eye or ask where you're going when he comes barging through carrying you (protesting, at that) out the door without a word before vanishing in the direction of the nearest village with a doctor… even when you try to get their help to please tell him I'm fine, they just ignore you at this point, knowing it's futile.

There's a death at the inn once — you try to be reasonable and explain that it was a very elderly and sickly man who most certainly died of natural causes, but see, you don't know for sure that he didn't have some kind of rare rapid-onset deadly illness that can spread from the bottom floor all the way up to where your room is, so it is imperative that you be disinfected professionally.

He annoys the doctors too — they're all used to it at this point too, but many of them are aware of him, and none of the humans really want to oppose or risk upsetting one of these beings they have a degree of reverence for, so much to your dismay, all of them continue to treat his concerns as legitimate, even though it's very blatantly clear to you that they're faking taking it seriously.

On the bright side, having some pity on your suffering perhaps (or being tired of dealing with the same thing over and over), the harbor pharmacist managed to convince him that an over-the-counter mild painkiller was a miracle cure for a wide variety of ailments, so unless you feel that you need more, he says, then that should be enough… which cuts down on the frequency of your unnecessary emergency care visits, but only somewhat.

At this point, surely at least one of the concerns has been legitimate, he has definitely saved your life more than once by now. And yet, you have not thanked him for this, you continue to be so naive to your own fragility and do nothing but complain about it when you literally owe him your life. Unbelievable.

But rest assured, your ungratefulness will not deter him from continuing to take the utmost care of you, he'll continue to save you, regardless of how unappreciated these life-saving efforts are.

[volturissideslut]

Hii!! Can you do Jane x reader where she’s Jane’s mate but still human. One day some important information gets leaked out and everyone in the volturi thinks the reader leaked the info. (Aro can’t read her mind) So they question her for a long time and when she still says that she didn’t do it they make Jane torture her with her power. As Jane is torturing her someone walks in and says that she didn’t do it. By the time Jane stops the reader is passed out. Everyone and mostly Jane regrets what they’ve done. The reader doesn’t wake up for a few days and Jane is in absolute sorrow. And when she finally wakes up she doesn’t even look Jane in the eyes bc of the betrayal she feels. Just a lot of angst yk:))) Buuut they make up in the end. Thank youuu🫶🏻

𝕵𝖆𝖓𝖊 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

This is more of the aftermath than anything. Mentions of looking thinner

"Get out"

Though your voice was hoarse, it didn't lessen the impact. Not one bit. Jane didn't think it was possible to vampires to have panic attacks, yet what else could this be. Why was her chest so tight? She doesn't need to breathe. And though she can't sweat he skin feels clammy behind all her layers. She's a vampire, their brains go fast - she could finish a novel in five minutes, but this feels too fast. It's making her dizzy. It's making her sick.

"Please-" her mouth feels dry. Is she panting? Why does it feel like Felix is cracking her chest again? You two can get through this. You can move past this. The thought is the only thing keeping her semi-rational right now. "I can't even look at you right now. Please leave, Jane. I can't see you anymore" and god you look so broken. And she did it. Your skin looks sickly, at least seven shades yellower. And your eyes - so dull - are dragged down by the bags she gave you. Are you thinner? You look thinner, you look malnourished. Definitely unhealthy.

It's the shakey movement of your hand accompanied by a wince that pulls her from her intense observation. And she remembers what you want. She wants to stay - absolutely has to - but she can't ruin this even more. She needs to save this and even now she recognises that her being here will be detrimental to that. So she does leave.

Out the door, she sits on the floor and stares at the ceiling. Not that her eyes are recognising anything though. No. Her head is leaned back against the big double door to your shared chambers and all she can bring herself to do is listen intently to your heartbeat. You're still here. You're still safe.

You, on the other side of the door, can no longer bring yourself to stifle your own sobs at the betrayal. Your mate, your love, the one who promised to always protect you, had actually been the only vampire to hurt you. The only one you ever truly trusted. Though her gift is mental, the rough treatment had still hared you. But it was hard to tell what hurt more - the mental scar on the one on your heart.

Could you even stay?

Maybe it was time to leave

--------

That night you packed, leaving through the window. Were you as strong as them? No. But could trust Jane and be in the same place as her? Also no.

It was killing you just to be in that room, with all of them memories. All of them were now tainted, and now you could see all the similarities between her room and the dungeons.

Bag at your side mainly just filled with your previous belongings you couldn't part with, you climbed out the window only to be face to face with Alec. For fucks sake.

"You shouldn't be here," his tone was more concerned than accusing. Was he actually worried for you, though, or was he more bothered about his sister? that seemed like the more likely answer. "come. Ill walk you back" he takes the bag for you and begins to guide you gently back, hand delicately on your arm as if you were made of porcelain. He looked guilty. Remorseful even.

He led you back the longer way round as if he was giving you time. He even sat with you in the garden for a few minutes - until Jane cane storming through.

"There you are! Your heartbeat grew faint and the window was open and I-" and her hand are on your face. She stops speaking when you flinch back, heart dropping to her feet, until she feels you lean into her.

Damn mate bond and damn exhaustion because you let yourself fall into her. She can feel your heart rate speed up in fear but feels frozen when you make no effort to move away.

"Let's- let's get you to bed, yeah?" she turns her head, face frightened as she mouths a 'thank you' to Alec for keeping you here and safe. He just nods, head down as he shares part of her shame. A drop in the bucket compared to hers, though.

--------

Here she lay, back in your shared chambers, sat up against the headboard of the bed while you lay on their lap asleep. Icy fingers comb through your hair and scratch lightly at your scalp.

"We'll be okay, right? We'll be okay."

[aealzx]

The portal breaking into view pulled Don’s attention from gathering supplies, pausing to look over before quickly setting what he had down to free his hands. He anticipated that Leon would need help carrying his brother to the table, since he was assuming the remaining brother would be about the same size as Leon, Lil Mikey, or somewhere in between. Even though Leon could carry Lil Mikey easily, it still wasn’t likely that they’d be the exact same size. Don was proven quite wrong in his hypothesis though as forms started to come through the portal, one shaky, ginger step at a time. “Oh…,” Don gawked for just a moment as he recalibrated his brain. It seemed that instead of being about the same size as the others, Leon’s fourth brother was practically twice as big as them. With his arm slung over Leon’s shoulders it looked like Leon should have been knocked over by the weight, especially with how far he was leaning to the side. And the third figure that Don hadn’t expected at all was smothered practically out of view other than poofy hair buns on Raph’s other side. It wasn’t even that Raph was that much taller than his brothers. He was just remarkably well built for a teenager. As Raphael shook himself out of his own surprised, cautious, and wary stupor and rushed forward to help, Don started to follow his lead. But a hand quickly snaked out to snatch his arm, pulling him back to protectively hold him in place.

“Leo- What the shell?” Don hissed, incredulous bafflement in his gaze as he turned to look back at the one who’d grabbed him. This wasn’t the time to carelessly react in any manner that might make Leon wary of them again. And hinting that they might not want to help his brother now that they could see him was high on a list of possible reasons that could betray Leon’s newly given trust. Yet Don’s annoyance was placated somewhat when he saw Leo’s expression. The tense set of his jaw, and slightly widened eyes as he stared at Raph, even as there was a mild tremble smothered down in his grip. He was scared? But why?

Leo had already realized that Leon’s portals were probably just gates that breached longer distances than his hopscotch location shifting during their scuffle, so there was no shock there. Especially after Leon so casually left through one on his own instead of only using it as a weapon against others. But just because he was ready for more than just Leon to come back through that gateway didn’t mean he was ready for exactly what they looked like. The smaller, younger version of himself returned with his brother dwarfing him in size. Leo was definitely certain Raph was broader than Mikey, and only fairly certain that he was taller as well. Which wouldn’t have been alarming if it weren’t for the fact Raph was a teenager and Mikey was a full grown adult. The difference in expected size, spiked appearance, and sickly complexion brought Leo’s mind to a different explanation than common illness and injury. A memory that was still fresh in their minds despite the decade of age, and he hadn’t been able to keep himself from protectively latching onto Don to keep him nearby. He couldn’t blame Don for looking at him in borderline irritation in response. They hadn’t told him much about that event more than ten years ago, but the scar on Don’s leg was a constant reminder of it. “....Secondary mutation…,” was all Leo could bring himself to quietly breathe out in a whisper.

“Wh-....,” Don started, cutting off when the dots rapidly connected in his mind. Ever since he’d gotten ‘sick’ situations had popped up like this. Excessive protectiveness of Don in particular. The other three sharing looks and leaving him in the dark repeatedly. It was almost annoying if it wasn’t so sweet how protective his brothers had gotten towards him. Always looking out for him and taking more care when he got so much as a sniffle. But for some reason Leon’s brother was making Leo think of that incident? Was it because of the way he looked? It was the same leg, but not the same kind of injury by a long shot. So something else? Don knew that the secondary mutation in him had caused him to grow bigger than Leatherhead at the time. And Mikey had let slip once that he’d looked mean before Raphael had viciously silenced him before glancing in borderline panic at Don. They were always telling Don not to worry about it, and after some time he’d gotten tired of asking. He’d realized it was more for their sake than his that he was kept in the dark, and that no one openly talked about it. So after some time he’d just accepted being in the unknown.

Just like he’d accept Leo’s action to hold him back there with him right then. “...Okay. I understand,” Don assured, resting a hand over Leo’s grip and not making any move to pull away anymore. Leo’s expression softened into one of apologetic gratefulness before he shifted his gaze over to Raphael. He knew his second in command had had the same thought as him, so why was he so readily putting himself in harm’s way by trying to wiggle under Raph’s arm on the other side of Leon?

“Hey! Watch where you’re shoving your shell!”

An unexpected voice brought Leo’s attention to focus more closely on where Raphael was. What he originally thought was possibly just some part of an attire was actually another person, and she apparently had loud opinions about Raphael trying to push her out of the way. “Woh- My bad. Didn’t see you there little lady,” Raphael excused himself, halting his action and getting slightly out of April’s way as Leon laughed a little.

“Yeah I bet you didn’t,” April huffed, wariness over this unfamiliar lair full of strangers, and frustration about not being able to fully contribute to helping Raph making her snappy. She was doing her best to help Leon move Raph, but it was hard in the first place considering how much higher his shoulder was compared to her’s. And yet now Leon was making it worse by trying to take all the weight himself. “Leo stop trying to carry him on your own and let me help before you flare up your knee.”

“It’ll be fine. Raph needs the support more right now,” Leon retorted back.

But Raphael could see the way the kid’s steps with his left leg didn’t seem to be as stable as the ones with his right. He did have a scar running down the outside of it. The stubbornness in both of the teens made Raphael’s mouth twitch into a smile. They were so alike. And the poor charge they were fighting over seemed too distracted by pain to break them up and save them from their own ignorance.

So Raphael moved forward again to give them a different solution. “Here, let me take him,” Raphael directed, raising his hands to follow up on the offer but not try to steal Raph away from the others.

“It’s fine, I got it,” Leon huffed stubbornly, expertly shifting his weight to his right leg before his left buckled for a half a second.

The offer also broke Raph out of his pain filled haze to give a verbal response. “N- no, Raph doesn’t want to squish you,” he declined around gritted teeth and pain filled grunts. Raphael wasn’t even that much taller than Leon, and he was a stranger that Raph didn’t want to impose his family’s troubles onto more than they had to.

“Look, I can lift 140 kilos, and you’re more likely to squish these two than me. So get on, or I’m throwing you over my shoulders in a fireman carry. Got it?” Raphael responded bluntly, shifting a half step forward to show he meant it.

Raph ended up pausing his movements to stare in muddled surprise at Raphael, Leon and April following suit as though they didn’t believe what he’d said. If he actually could lift that much then it would be a better idea to let him carry Raph. But then again they didn’t know anyone that could do that other than Lil Mikey, so it was hard to take him up on his offer so quickly. Their internal debate ended up being too long for Raphael though, and he shifted forward to follow through on his warning.

“Wait be careful with his leg!” Leon blurted in a rush as Raphael hooked a hand under Raph’s arm and rolled his back into Raph’s torso while pulling him carefully but firmly forward. On reflex Raph let go of April and Leon, flinging his arms around Raphael’s shoulders and letting out a startled, wavering half yell as Raphael scooped him up onto his back effortlessly.

“YOOOO! Raph! You’re actually getting picked up!” Leon cheered in disbelief, skipping sideways around them to get a better look as Raphael secured his hold around Raph’s thighs and started walking forward. The kid’s grip around Raphael’s shoulders was tight, and borderline choking, but other than giving a mild grunt Raphael ignored it. It seemed that Raph just wasn’t used to being picked up anymore.

“Dude! I thought you were just bluffing to look good,” April admitted, adding her own laugh to Leon’s and pulling her phone out to snap a photo. “How does it feel to finally be the one carried big guy?”

Despite being in a secure grip as far as he could tell, Raph just let out an uneasy whimper, remaining completely stiff aside from his broken leg. Raphael could only grunt once again in response to Leon and April’s comments, covering the remaining distance to the surgery table quickly now that Raph was completely off the ground. “He’s not heavy. Just big,” Raphael huffed after a moment, carefully turning to scoot Raph onto the surgical table once he reached it and giving Raph’s uninjured leg a pat to let him know it was safe to let go.

Chuckling softly at the other’s antics, and briefly catching sight of Leon’s questioning look at them, Don gave Leo’s hand a pat of his own before he leaned away to attempt to address the others once again. He was pleasantly surprised when Leo let him go, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Instead he forced himself to try to be at least somewhat useful and started to tug Raph’s arms away from Raphael so he could get free and step away.

Skirting around the others, Don stopped next to Leon. “Hey Leo, what kind of turtle are you two?” he asked casually, pulling his phone out once more to look them up.

“Huh? Uh… red eared slider and alligator snapper. Why?” Leon answered, raising a brow in confusion at the seemingly random question.

“Just want to make sure there aren’t any unknowns that I miss. Lil Mike was the one who helped us with Donnie, but I like to do a little research on my own as well. I’m only used to treating box turtles before you guys,” Don answered, searching the two named species in his phone quickly. At least that part was true, and a question he would have asked regardless of how the others felt. This time the information just helped answer two question topics instead of just one. Yet when the images of the alligator snapper turtles pulled up he couldn’t help raise his brow slightly in surprise. And just to help reassure Leo, he nudged his brother and held the phone for him to see, getting a similar surprised reaction. “Well, that explains his size and your red markings,” Don commented with a mild chuckle. It was interesting that there was a suggestion that Leo’s mutation had moved his markings from his ears to his eyes.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Leon asked, raising his chin proudly and resting a flattened hand under it as though displaying a prize. The motion earned a snicker from both Raph and April, the former being a little more able to respond now that sharp pain wasn’t constantly shooting up his leg.

“Yeah,” Don chuckled as well, happy to see that Leo apparently liked the way he looked. “Has he always been this big?” he asked, nodding a head towards Raph and skimming through articles for alligator snappers like he did before for softshells.

“Pff, well no, of course not. He fit in a tea cup when he was a baby, just like the rest of us. Though out of the four of us he has always been the biggest,” Leon answered with a snort and slight eye roll. The mirth faded slightly as a thought crossed his mind, and he turned his gaze to watch Don more closely. “...Why?” It was odd. Leon didn’t know what Raph’s size had to do with anything about taking care of his leg and fever, and the questions were starting to feel like Don was digging for a specific answer. It was enough of a growing thought in Leon’s mind that he ended up folding his arms, eyes narrowing slightly after Don looked up to meet his gaze, doing his own visual analysis.

Seeing the slight hint that Leo was becoming suspicious of him, Don figured he could be blunt this time. “Leo and Raph were concerned that your Raph was infected with a secondary mutagen that would turn him into a monstrous form of himself. I was just asking to reassure them that wasn’t the case, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I just asked that aloud right from the start,” Don admitted with a slight shrug, slipping his phone away once more as he completed his research and turning to start checking Raph over visually first. 

“Say what now?” April blurted, unimpressed as her eyes slid over to Leo, and then Raph. 

Leon just raised a tight grip to his upper arms, randomly pressing his fingers into his skin to keep him from falling back into his own uncomfortable memories. The disgusting pink flesh curling around Raph’s form, distorting his appearance. Lil Mikey’s cry of ‘what did you do to my brother?’ ringing in his head along with the other voice being quick to follow. He ended up shaking the sound from his thoughts to replace it with Leo's response.

“We were just being cautious. I’m sorry. It’s an incident that brings up a lot of bad memories for us, and I didn’t want you guys to get caught off guard like we were,” Leo apologized quickly, waving his hands slightly before averting his gaze sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head. They hadn’t been prepared at all back then, which resulted in some desperate moves being made and people getting hurt. But if they could catch it early then the others wouldn’t have had to go through the same stress. Though that was also just logic to back up Leo’s reaction primarily being driven by not wanting to see Don get infected again somehow.

“He sure doesn’t seem worried,” April pointed out, jerking her thumb towards Don as he was very gently touching the white bandages covering Raph’s leg. Even now Don seemed to be the only one of the three that wasn’t wary in the least bit.

“That’s because I was the one mutated, so I don’t remember any of it,” Don explained, once again lacking any filter on his words. The response caused April to still considerably, concern pinching her brow as she uncomfortably shifted her gaze to Leon. She hadn’t been thinking that it had been one of the new set of brothers that had been mutated. She and her brothers had dealt with so many mutated humans after all.

After guessing as well as he could about how much damage there was without removing the wrappings Don turned to Leon, breaking off the previous topic for one that was more important. “Do you want to go get washed up? Leo can show you where the sink and soap are. I’ll join you after talking with everyone else about what will probably happen.”

“Oh- uh… sure?” Leon nodded brokenly, the question and comments helping to pull him away from spiraling again.  There was a lot to unpack with the partial bombshell Don half dropped so casually. On both sides. It left an uncomfortable taint in the air that caused Raph to reach over and rest a hand on April’s shoulder in reassurance. Don was right though, the questions on both sides could be addressed later, or never depending on who was asked. But right now they had to take care of Raph, so Leon turned to head towards where he was directed. As his mind was redirected back to taking care of Raph his hands started fidgeting on his arms in anxious excitement rather than grounding.

“...It’s this way,” Leo directed, holding a hand out to Leon and resting it on Leon’s back after he passed to gently lead him towards the sinks. He was still feeling a little sullen, but forcing himself to focus on the task at hand was helping. And he ended up giving a soft huff of amusement as he looked to Leon. “Don must be impressed with your medical knowledge. He never lets the rest of us other than Leatherhead help directly with this kind of stuff.”

The comment caught Leon slightly off guard. And while initially he flourished under the praise, his worries put his pride in check. Glancing over his shoulder to see if the others were paying attention to them, Leon let out a weak chuckle before looking back. “Heheh. I’m probably not as good as he thinks I am. I’ve never done anything like this before. What if I screw it up?” He hadn’t meant to ask that question, especially not to an almost stranger. But it slipped out while he was practically rambling.

“You’ll be fine,” Leo assured quickly, also surprised that Leon seemed to be confiding in him a little. He’d thought Leon wouldn’t like him much considering how he’d acted towards him so far. “You might not have done this before, but Don has. And I think he did a great job, I forget it even happened most of the time,” he continued, raising his arm so Leon could see the scar running down the outer length of it.

Looking at Leo’s arm, it took Leon a second to realize what he was trying to say with the gesture. Squinting slightly, Leon gave a small huff in hesitant understanding. “Dude, you popped your bone out of your arm? I can’t even tell. It looks like you just got a big scratch that scarred over.”

“Well I didn’t do it, but yeah it was a good break,” Leo corrected, not wanting it to seem like he’d been doing something recklessly stupid to get his arm broken. “Don fixed me up really well, even though he was apparently just as anxious as you are now. So I’m sure you’ll do fine, kid. That’s why you brought him here, yeah? For help?”

The questions cause Leon to pause, considering what Leo said and why it struck him as not being a lie. When he’d gone to fetch Raph he’d had the thought of fixing his leg on his own, just with better equipment. But, maybe after talking with Don about the care his other two brothers had gotten he sort of hoped that he would get help. Somewhere in the back of his mind he relished the idea of having a mentor of sorts. If he even dared call Don that. Don was definitely older and therefore more experienced. But that didn’t necessarily mean he had a license. Not like either of them could get a nursing license anyway.

“Well…,” Leon started, pushing himself back to answer the questions. “You guys did help my other brothers. And didn’t hurt me even though I tried to hurt you. So… I guess… yeah,” he broke off pathetically, not quite comfortable enough with the others to be any more open than he’d already been. He did appreciate their help already. But it was weird. Having adults that were capable and didn’t want to hurt, use, or manipulate them. Hueso was the only one Leon could think of at the moment who never wanted to harm them, but he only ever fed them or scolded them fondly like an exasperated uncle.

Watching Leon start to close off from him, the slight hunch of his shoulders and absent gaze, Leo’s brows furrowed for a moment before he huffed a small laugh. “Sure kid. I get it,” he assured, reaching up to pat Leon on the head. He knew what it was like to not be able to trust others. To have to figure everything out between just five people. At one point only one adult and four children. He couldn’t blame Leon for being scared, and defensive. But he could show him that they could rely on him and his brothers while they were there. So that’s what he was going to do. “Just so you know, feel free to ask us for anything you’re comfortable with. We understand what it’s like to be alone,” Leo assured quietly before he directed Leon’s attention towards the sink. “This is the soap Don uses to clean up before doing any open surgery. You’ll have to scrub for a few minutes, and Don will be by after he’s finished with the others to explain everything in more detail.”

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hello from the other siiiiide~ /smacked 8'D I'm currently in another country for vacation and squeezed this out during down time. Which also means I'm drawing in a completely different way than I'm used to and some stuff might be wonky in both art and writing |D

Thanks for you patience and understanding X'D

[insightfulllama]

Dp X dc prompt!

In this prompt, liminals/ghosts need to consume fresh ectoplasm to stay healthy and not starve. In addition, the headcanons “only those exposed to ectoplasm can see ghosts as they really are”, and “how people see ghosts is based a lot on their personal perceptions of reality.” have been mushed together. Like, someone un-exposed to ectoplasm knows that SOMETHING is there and it’s scary, but they haven’t been exposed to enough ectoplasm to actually comprehend what it is, so their mind just fills in the empty space with whatever their scared of + what makes sense to them for the context.

So Gotham has a lot of ambient ectoplasm and that's enough to keep Jason from starving completely, but nowhere near enough to be healthy. The inherent ectoplasm he has is basically rotten cause Lazarus pit be like that, so although he is alive and well in human terms, from a ghostly perspective he is extremely emaciated and sickly. Jason has felt varying degrees of empty and BAD since he came back, but there’s not exactly a handbook for this sort of thing, so Jason just accepts feeling terrible and being quick to anger as his new reality.

Cue the bat family calling him up and asking him to check out some weird reports they've been getting. Apparently people have been seeing stuff- a shadowy floating baby, a rotting animal corpse walking around, a ball of energy floating through a wall, etc. Which would be strange enough, but since the sightings started popping up at the same time, Bat's is theorizing that all the sightings are being caused by one entity. And a lot of the reports are in Jason's stomping grounds, so they want him to take a look.

He obliges (not because he wants to help his family, it's JUST because it sounds interesting, ok?) and quickly finds the whatever it is. And he kind of wants to laugh because THIS is what everyone was freaking out about? The thing looks like a gumbrop. Granted it was the size of a cat and glowing a suspiciously Lazarus green, but STILL, what on earth was everyone so scared of?

Regardless, it was in his territory and needed to go. It moved surprisingly fast once it spotted him, and it was taking a lot for Jason not to lose sight of it. Oracle offers to send someone to help and even Jason is surprised at how angrily he says no. But maybe he shouldn't be- he'd seen it first, it was HIS to catch. He discarded his helmet after her next question- she was distracting and the little thing was now periodically turning around to chirp mischievously at him and he was going to GET it, darn it.

He tells himself that the frantic urge to catch the creature was just mission excitement. The wild, clawing NEED to have it was just enthusiasm. The aching pull in his stomach wasn't anything out of the ordinary, his mouth was watering because it had been dry, NO other reason.

He was fine. This was fine, nothing was wrong, he just REALLY needed this thing.

He loses sight of it for a second, but it's fine because he knows the direction it's going.

He turns the corner and pulls up sharply. The gumdrop thing has been caught, but not by him. There's a figure holding its limp form, staring at him with wide eyes, obviously in the middle of eating it.

Jason distantly thinks he should be confused or horrified, but all he can feel is devastation. It was supposed to be HIS- this was HIS territory, HIS place, he should be the one to get it. But he hadn't been fast enough and now he wasn't going to get ANYTHING-

Danny, meanwhile, feels like the biggest jerk in the world. He'd caught the fat blob ghost more out of habit than hunger, since it had practically run into him zipping around the corner. But this other liminal had been in the middle of hunting it and was now looking at him with abject betrayal.

Danny's feelings of guilt got worse as he crept a bit closer and realized that the other liminal was sick. They're ectoplasm felt tainted, contaminated in a way that spoke of long term illness. Danny's brain was going a mile a minute, connecting the pieces. This liminal felt fairly strong so he probably had his own territory, and since he was sick he probably couldn't go far to hunt. Which meant that in essence, Danny had waltzed into the house of a starving, bedridden liminal and eaten directly off his plate.

Yeah, Danny was officially the worst.

But he hasn't actually eaten it yet, so there's still time to fix it! Danny quickly offers to share, rambling to the not-quite-starving liminal that it's like the fattest blob ghost he's ever seen and he really doesn't mind sharing and he can have most of it if he wants, Danny's not that hungry and pretty please don't be upset?

Jason can hardly understand anything he's so ravenous at this point, but he does understand that he's being offered the food he thought he'd lost, so he chows down without any fuss, much to Danny's relief. He tries not to judge how messily the guy is eating cause who knows how long its been since he'd caught any fresh ectoplasm and its honestly no worse than Danny was the first time he ate a blobbie.

Except- the guys tainted ectoplasm seemed to be fading? Huh, maybe the illness wasn't as terminal as it seemed on the surface, if all that was needed to fix it was a decent meal.

Danny decides to leave, the liminal is obviously going to be fine and once they're head clears they're probably going to be embarrassed that Danny saw them in such a state and he doesn't want to deal with that kind of awkwardness. He carefully leaves, relieved that something that could have ended very badly had worked itself out.

Meanwhile, Barbara is trying to get Jason to respond to her without success. The last contact was almost half an hour ago when he'd snarled at her for asking if he needed someone to come help. She was pretty sure he'd ditched his comm after that, but his trackers were still active and she could see he'd come to a stop. He'd been very clear that he didn't want help, but they knew nothing about this entity and Barbara is hardly going to chance that he might be slowly bleeding out somewhere. She sends someone (or multiple someones) to go check on him.

They find Jason splattered head to toe in faintly iridescent gore, hunched over with glowing eyes and softly growling as he eats something unidentifiable.

[ilguna]

☼ childhood friends (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; after three years of not talking to Finnick, you get reaped for the Hunger Games, and he decides it's time to apologize for leaving you behind the way he did.

warnings; swearing

wc; 3.6k

–

When you finally became eligible for the Hunger Games five years ago, you accidentally started a nasty habit of wishing to get deathly ill to avoid the reaping. All you want is to get sick enough for the peacekeepers to give you a pass, because if they think that you’ll die before you reach the arena, then they don’t want you. The Capitol wants entertainment, and a sickly tribute is a boring tribute.

The goal is to survive the illness, whatever it may be. Let it take weeks for you to recover, if that’s what has to happen. As long as you don’t die from it, because that’s exactly the problem you’re trying to avoid.

You didn’t live seventeen years of your life only to be reaped and thrown into an area to fight for your life. You made it this far. You have one more year until you’re free from the reaping. Free.

Unfortunately, for the past five years, you’ve woken up as healthy as the day you were born. There’s not a single symptom that you could bend to look malicious. You think that if you end up surviving this year’s reaping, that you’re going to go around licking doorknobs to make sure that you’re sick next year.

You turn to the bathtub full of water that your mom’s been filling for you while you made breakfast. It’s probably not even warm anymore, but you have no choice. She won’t let you go outside unless you’re well-dressed in the chance that you do get selected in the reaping. She won’t have her eldest representing the family badly.

You step into the tub, and pleasantly find that it’s lukewarm. It won’t be this way for long, you have a small window to get yourself cleaned up and hair washed before it turns ice cold. You sink into the tun, letting it warm your skin slightly, and then you get started.

As you scrub your skin with a bar of unscented soap, you stare at the adjacent wall. In the Capitol, you heard that they have running showers. You can turn the knob and have hot water come out immediately, and bathtubs that they can fill with hot water without having to wait over an hour for the water to boil first.

They might have those appliances here somewhere in the district. If you had to guess, you’d say the Justice Building, where the mayor and his family stays, or any of the victor homes in Victor’s Village. Since they won the Hunger Games, it’s nothing but the best for them.

You bet that they forget that the rest of the district doesn’t have the same luxury as they do with the hot water. Even the upper class part of district four doesn’t have showers. The houses were never installed with them—maybe better bathtubs. You can’t imagine how expensive it would be to run that water.

You don’t think you’d leave the bathroom ever again. You’d sit under the water for hours, letting the water hit your face, or the top of your head. You’d close your eyes and imagine the warm rain that you get in the summertime. And you would be able to do that every day until you got sick of it.

Instead, you’re stuck with a bar of soap, and a tub of cooling water. The same water that turned a slight shade of white because of the soap, that you now have to use to wash your hair. You could get your mom to brew you a whole new tub, but you don’t have time for it. She leaves only enough room to get you in and out before the rest of your family gets in.

You turn your head to the side while lowering your hair into the water to get it wet, squeezing it a few times to make sure the water sticks. After that, you reach for the bland bottle of shampoo that smells faintly of strawberries if you smell hard enough. You lather, and then rinse, and when you’re done, you pull the plug on the tub to let it drain while you get dressed.

You dry your body, and start on your hair for a minute. You stop when you realize that it’s going to be a longer process than you expected, and opt for pulling your dress on, being careful not to get it wet. The moment you open the bathroom door, arms full of dirty clothes, heading for your bedroom, your mom is already passing you with the first pot of hot water for your little sister’s bath.

“Drop the clothes in the hallway, I’ll clean them later tonight.” She tells you, eyes landing on your hair, “Do you need help putting your hair up?”

“If you have time, or I can do it myself.” You shrug.

“Grab a chair and take a seat in the kitchen.” She directs your chin upwards, correcting your habit of looking down, “I always have time for you.”

You give her a half-smile, dropping your dirty clothes in the hallway while you head to your room to grab the hair ties and brush. When you look at your clock, you see that there’s only an hour and a half before the reaping. It seems like a lot of time, but with a family of five, it takes so much longer.

You brush your hair while you wait for her to come into the kitchen, several pots are on the stove with the heat turned to high. Your brother sits in the living room, playing with his toys, and your dad is nowhere to be seen. You’re pretty sure he bathed last night to avoid today’s mayhem.

“Sit.” She tells you, you pull out a chair.

She’s gentle when she pulls on your wet hair, used to your younger sister’s whining about rough hands. She’s never been bad about the brush, it’s more of her redoing your hair several times to make sure that it’s absolutely perfect. It’s one of the struggles that come with having to appear as a lower middle class family. They’re always about image, even if you have nothing to show.

Your mom’s side of the family used to be a line of jewelers. She was even raised to appraise precious jewelry. She would buy jewelry at a low price and turn around and sell it higher. It worked out for your grandparents for a while, until your mom asked for a better cut on the profit, since she was the reason why they were making so much.

Her parents denied her, and then shut her out entirely, firing her. By then, your mom had already married your dad, so she had him to fall back on. She watched as her parents started to lose profit, and lost business altogether because they got rid of her. And when they came to her, asking for her charity, she laughed in their faces and told them that they’re dead to her.

You haven’t seen them, not since you were young. From what you remember, they lived in a big house, more bedrooms than they needed. It wasn’t even your mom’s childhood home, she says they sold that and upgraded. They must’ve moved to a different part of the district, because you’ve never accidentally run across them.

Your mom’s always told you that if you need her, then she’ll come running, no matter the situation, no matter the reason. It’s the least she could do because her parents couldn’t step up and give her a little more money for her work. She says that once you turn eighteen, she’ll get you a job at the fabric store she works at, and she’ll make sure that you’re well taken care of.

You know she doesn’t mean to, but sometimes she makes you sad.

“Okay, all done.” She says, “Maybe sit in front of an open window so it dries faster.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She grabs your face to press a kiss to your forehead, “Be ready in an hour.”

“I will.” You smile.

You wander back to your room, or rather the room you share with your sister. You prop open the window, and instantly a warm breeze comes through the air. It’s a shame the Hunger Games takes place in the middle of summer. It’s the only time of year you genuinely enjoy, and it’s ruined by the Capitol.

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring out the window. One minute turns to ten, and you’re sure that you should get up and get your shoes on, at the very least, but you don’t move. You can’t get your eyes to focus either, no matter how hard you try.

There’s something wrong, you’re not usually this drained before the reaping.

You blink slowly, turning your head away from the window to look at your room. Your mouth screws, and you force yourself up to pull on your shoes. You go back to sitting on your bed when you’re done, playing with a string on your bedsheets. 

Your sister comes into the room soon after, already dressed and hair done. She briefly looks at you before getting to her knees to play with her toys. It doesn’t last long until she sets them down and looks at you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You glance at her, and then at the window.

“Oh, well,” She shrugs, “I had a dream last night that you got reaped.”

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Your face twists, finally coming back to life, “Especially not to mom.”

She doesn’t say anything, playing with her dolls. The two of you sit in here for another thirty minutes, before your mom is collecting you to leave. You close the window in the bedroom, and briefly check on the state of your hair in the bathroom. It’s not perfect, you knew it wouldn’t be, but it looks good enough. Your mom nods in approval.

The five of you leave the house, heading to the District Four Justice Building. You’re not the only family heading that way, most of the neighborhood is leaving too, all on foot. Cars are also a luxury for the rich, but even they’re too expensive for the victors.

When you reach the area where you need to sign in, your mom kisses your forehead, and then your dad does too in the same spot. She then reaches over and redirects your chin upwards, “With beauty and grace, (Y/n).”

“I know. I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” You smile.

Your sister is barely eligible for the games this year, she’s just turned twelve. You watch as your parents repeat the process with her. Your brother’s got another three years before it’s his turn to experience the reaping. You hold your hand out for your sister to take to guide her through the process.

You get signed in first, and then wait nearby to watch her first time with a reaping day peacekeeper. They pass her easily, and she hurries to stick close. Inside the fenced area are hundreds of girls and boys, all varying in age. You bring her to the back, where the twelve section is.

“I’ll see you right after, okay?” You fix her hair.

“Okay.” She agrees.

You move down the aisle to the front, where the other seventeen year old girls are gathering. It’s fairly empty up here, allowing you to pick a spot without blocking anyone else’s view. You’re not sure if they’d mind anyway. When you were younger, you’d use the older teenagers to block the stage’s view of you, afraid of them picking you just because they felt like it.

You let out a breath, and raise your head.

Most of the chairs on the stage are filled by the regular occupants, like the mayor, and your Capitol escort. In the other chairs sit the victor’s that District Four has had over the past sixty-seven years, there’s four of them.

Mags Flanagan, she’s the oldest victor up there because she’s the first victor of District Four. To the right of her sits Muscida, another female victor, she’s younger than Mags by a good twenty years. The next in line is Librae, she’s in her thirties. And the very last and recent victor is the only male that Four has had so far, and that’s Finnick Odair.

He broke the record for the youngest victor, previously it was fifteen, but he set it at fourteen. It’s going to be an impossible record to beat, since every thirteen year old that goes inside of an arena is dead within the first to third day. They never last past the first week.

Finnick’s the same age as you are. You used to be really good friends with him, since his family lived in the same neighborhood as you, and you went to the same school together. After he won, they all moved into Victor’s Village, and you never really had the same friendship as you did before.

You tried to be normal, for his sake. At school, you saw how everyone else was treating him and figured that he’d want things to go back to normal. You could see past his arena-self, considering he did what he had to in order to survive. You guess that he couldn’t handle it anyway, because eventually the two of you stopped talking, and then he stopped coming to school in general.

Despite now living in two different areas of District Four, you still manage to see him every year at the reaping. You can’t imagine what it’s like mentoring, especially since he had no choice when it comes to the job. The district requires one male and one female mentor. You think you’d go insane.

Briefly, Finnick looks up, and manages to catch your eyes. They’re gone in the same second.

Right as the big clock hits ten thirty, the mayor steps up to the podium to start giving the Dark Days speech. After hearing it so many times, you’re sure that you could recite this in your sleep without missing a beat. It’s the same speech, nothing changes to the script. You’re forced to stand here and listen to him drone about it.

And when he’s done, the Capitol escort steps up to the microphone. She’s dressed in bright colors, and has a wide grin on her face. You guys have had her for the past two years, you think you preferred the man before her. He was less peppy and seemed to realize the monstrosity he was committing by selecting children to fight to kill each other.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Her accent gives you a headache, “And may the odds be ever in your favor. We’ll start with ladies first.”

She wanders over to the girls’ glass bowl with thousands of slips inside of it. Only five of them should have your name on it. You suck in a breath between your teeth, holding it while she picks a slip from the middle. She holds it up in the air, a folded piece of white paper held shut by black tape. She then moves over to the microphone, shimmying her shoulders in excitement as she unfolds the paper.

She takes in a breath, a smile overcoming her face, “(Y/n) (L/n).”

You can feel the air leave your lungs, lips parting as you struggle to intake air. Somewhere out there behind the rope, you think you can hear your mother’s anguished scream. Several heads swivel to find you, hands balled into tight fists to distract from the jelly feeling in your legs.

Move.

You step out of the seventeen section and into the aisle, where the peacekeepers immediately come to your side to guide you to the stage. You press your lips together, head falling to look at your shoes, when you’re suddenly reminded of her gesture. You raise your chin and start down the path, trying to appear brave.

The Capitol escort’s got this smirk on her face, you look away from her and to the stairs, which feel almost impossible to take. One at a time, you’re raised until you’re on the same level as they are. She guides you next to the microphone, and you plant your feet there, eyes wide as you stare off into the crowd. A large sea of bodies, too many to fit in the square, so they fill the streets and alleyways nearby.

You take in deep breaths through your nose to contain the tears that want to take over your body. You don’t even realize she’s called the boy's name until she’s demanding that you two shake hands. You turn, and find a boy from the sixteen section. His hands are wet when you touch them, and he looks like he’s going to puke. 

The Panem anthem then plays, and as soon as it’s finished, you’re pushed to go inside of the Justice Building. They bring you to a vacant room, where you’re left to pace and wait for your family to come. You only had one more year of this until you were free, you just had to get reaped at seventeen.

The door swings open, and in comes your family, your mother rushing to hold you tightly. She squeezes the air out of you, letting out a quiet sob, “Why didn’t you tell me that your sister had a dream that you’d be reaped?”

“Because you’d react this way.” You murmur, hugging her back. Your dad comes over to stroke your hair. “It’s okay, mom.”

“You must be good.” She says, pulling away to hold your face, “You must show them that you’re wonderful. You can do that.”

“I can, because I learned from you.” You agree, “It’ll be alright.”

Your brother and sister wander over, both of them with tears in their eyes. You hug them tightly, promising that you’ll be home soon. The peacekeepers come back, telling you that your time with your family is up. Your mom insists on pressing a kiss to your forehead, the same with your dad, before they leave.

“You’ll be good.” She tells you, “Tell me that you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good, mom.”

It’s a few minutes before they take you and bring you to a car to transport you to the train station quickly. You chew on the inside of your cheek while staring at the window, continuing to take breaths to calm yourself. The station is crowded with reporters when you get there. You avoid the cameras and head inside of the train, where the doors shut behind you, and the train begins to move.

You let out the breath of air that you’ve been holding.

“Congratulations!” The escort says, you eye her warily.

“On what?” Your counterpart asks, “On our death sentence?”

A frown comes over the escort’s face. You can hear a familiar laugh, and he shows himself a second later. Finnick’s got this smirk on his face, “What did I tell you about congratulating the tributes? It’s insulting.”

“Regardless of what you think,” she suddenly hisses, “It’s required of me to do.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “Right. Why don’t you take Landon to his room?”

She presses her lips together, “Fine, let’s go you two—”

“No, I need a second with (Y/n). We need to talk.”

The way Finnick speaks is so much different from what you remember. He was never this direct with people, he had a tendency to beat around the bush to avoid hurting feels. It has something to do with the confrontation aspect of it, and he never wanted the drama of having a rivalry.

Now he seems like he doesn’t care. He stares at the escort, waiting for her to object, but she must think that it’s not worth it, because all she does is shake her head at him before leading Landon off.

He turns to you with a toothy smile, “I’m going to pay for that later.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” You laugh.

Without saying it out loud, the two of you gravitate for a hug at the same time. You squeeze him tightly, letting out a slight laugh. The last time you talked to him was three years ago. So much can change in such a short amount of time. You probably don’t even know him anymore.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry.” He begins, pulling away, “After the games—”

“I don’t blame you, Finnick. How can I?”

“I don’t know, we were close. We grew up together, I thought you’d be angrier.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I tried with the whole school thing, but no one treated me normally except for you. And I thought it would be enough but there was that one week where you got sick and I had to do it all alone. I couldn’t, I didn’t even make it through the week.”

“I know. You did what you had to do. And you seem to be doing better now than you were before, right?”

He nods, eyes falling to the carpet flooring, “Yeah, something like that. It sucks that it took you getting reaped for me to say something.”

“I’m happy you’re talking to me at all.” You tilt your head, “If you wanna make up for it, though, you’ll make sure that I’m set up to win.”

Finnick’s eyes meet yours, a mischievous grin crossing his face, “Oh, you have no idea the wonders I can work for you.”

[atlasofthestaars]

Can you write something where the reader is sick, and their love interest Smoke helps take care of them? Thank you!

NOTE: IM SO SORRY HOW LONG THIS TOOK ANON </3 ITS FINALLY HERE

Tried to make this lighthearted and funny!

Sorry this is really short (or short for how long you waited for this) </3 I wanted to finally get this out and I couldn’t think of much to extend this

SICK DAYS [SMOKE X READER]

Colds were perhaps the worst thing ever.

Okay, you were being dramatic. You’d never admit that outloud, and especially in this state, but you were. They definitely weren’t the worst thing ever, but you loathe being sick. It sucked the life out of you, it made you miserable, and everyone wanted to avoid you. Not to mention, even after the worst is over, you’d be left with sniffles and coughs for an unreasonable amount of time.

Why couldn’t being sick just be a one day deal? It was all too easy to get sick anyways, one tiny mistake then you were suddenly down on your luck and getting sick. It didn’t help that you were staying in possibly the worst place right now to deal with a cold. The Lin Kuei temple was not the best place with its freezing temperatures to recover from a cold. 

Haha, cold. Cruel irony.

Grumbling, you sighed as you pulled the covers over yourself, curling into a tight ball as you closed your eyes. This way, you’d be warmer. And then maybe, just maybe, you could sleep and wake up and suddenly be better. It was definitely wishful thinking, but it was better than nothing.

Sadly, your plan was thwarted in a matter of minutes.

The door of your room opened, shining the light leaking in from the hallway directly on your face. You flinched at the sudden change in light, a frown tugging harder at your lips. It was as if the elder gods were mocking you. They enjoyed your pain, surely. 

You squinted open your eyes, nearly hissing at the light. Your grumpiness was somewhat quelled as you noticed just who was the figure who had decided to disrupt your attempt to hibernate your way into wellness. 

Tomas, the light of your life. Not that he knew it, nor did you ever mention it to him.

You blinked, focusing on his form which was being outlined by the light outside. By the elder gods, it was making him look like an angel. Not that you didn’t think he wasn’t an angel already, but now he especially looked like one. Especially when you spotted the things he was carrying in his hands.

Water and soup. 

Nevermind, maybe the elder gods were blessing you today. Maybe they pitied your sickly state, so they sent an angel to nurse you back to health. Surely that must be it.

“Are you feeling better?” Tomas asked as he set down the bowl of soup and water on the nightstand. He then knelt next to your bed. You tried to take a sniff of the soup, before remembering sorrowfully that your nostrils were clogged. You mourned the loss of smell, suddenly. 

“I think I’m dying.” You croaked out, using your status as a sick person to be even more dramatic than usual. It was a treat to yourself, to help you cope with your status. You groaned as you shifted in bed, wanting the pain of being sick to end already. You glanced at the soup and water, before glancing back at Smoke to see his reaction.

“You wouldn’t be dying if you didn’t go out in the snow like I warned you not to.” Tomas chided you, yet at the same time he had a smile on his face, and a playful note to his voice. You stared at his face, making sure to commit it to memory. It was going to be one of the few things that was going to get you through this sickness.

Or the last thing you remembered before you passed away from this illness like a sickly Victorian child.

“Well I’m not a coward.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you recalled how you had brazenly rushed out into the snow. You were too overjoyed by the snowfall to bundle up. Plus, you weren’t out there for too long, you assumed nothing was going to happen to you.

Maybe pride was your downfall. 

“But you are sick now.” Tomas quipped back, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his point. You grumbled, not thinking of a proper comeback to his statement. You blinked in surprise as you felt his hand brush over your forehead. You were glad your face was already flushed from sickness so your blush didn’t stick out. “Seems you don’t have a fever.” 

“Yeah.” You said, stunned for a moment as you recalled his gentle touch as he retracted his hand. You didn’t care how warm your sickness was making you feel, you missed the soft warmth from his hand. You cleared your throat as you glanced at the bowl. “So, what type of soup did you bring?” You asked, all too curious.

You were shocked to hear it was your favorite soup. He had brought you your favorite soup when you were sick to make you feel better. You closed your eyes for a second, to thank the elder gods above that you had met this man.

If it weren’t for your sickness, you’d kiss the man.

That, and well, you were too much of a coward to tell him your feelings. 

“Did you hear me?” You were taken out of your stupor, looking at the man as you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to recall if you had processed what he said. You were thankful he was patient as he repeated himself. “Are you well enough to feed yourself?”

“What.”

“Come on, sit up.” He urged you. Confused, you sat up. You reached out to grab the stack of tissues on your nightstand and blew into it. While you didn’t find it dignified to blow your stuffy nose in front of your crush, you found it was far less embarrassing than to drip snot in front of him. You grimaced as you tossed the tissue into the trash can. As you looked up, you were surprised to see a spoon of your favorite soup hovering in front of your face. “Here.”

“Huh.” You said, dumbfounded. Maybe the sickness was taking your intelligence too, because it felt like right now all you could muster were confused sounds and words. You blinked as you watched Tomas nod towards you, gently lifting the spoon closer to your mouth. Panicking, you leaned forward and ate the soup.

How is it that him being here made your favorite soup just a bit better?

“Good.” Tomas praised, and you felt yourself flush at the simple word. Does he know how much you adored him? No, and you doubted how much even these simple actions meant to you. Happily, he seemed to urge you to eat more, and you complied. You were not going to pass up on this opportunity to bask in his attention. “You know, I worry for you, sometimes. No one in their right mind would normally run into the snow like that.”

“I’m not a fragile baby.” You huffed stubbornly, sniffing. Yet on the inside you were fawning. He worried for you. Maybe it’s because he thought you were insane, but he worried for you! That had to mean something, right? The gray clad man shot you a look, and you pouted. “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh.” Smoke replied, sass in his tone. Still, he gave you a radiant smile as he continued to feed you soup. You felt on top of the world. If only you didn’t feel miserable otherwise, you’d consider getting sick more often so you could bask in his attention.

You glanced at Smoke’s face.

Nevermind, you would gladly trade your health if you could continue to be pampered by this man.

You had several blissful minutes of Smoke feeding you soup. As you finished the bowl, he let out a satisfied hum as he set the emptied bowl on the nightstand next to you. You also drank more from the glass of water he brought.

You were feeling a bit better already! Or maybe that was just the effect Smoke had on you. You weren’t certain which one it was. Maybe it was both.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Tomas said, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You were so, so lucky to know this man. You inhaled, holding your breath as he pressed his hand to your forehead again. His touch lingered longer this time. And you weren’t sure if you were being delusional or not when you swore his thumb brushed your cheek. “Good, no fever.” He murmured, though you weren’t sure why he checked again.

Still, with the way he was looking at you, you had no room to question or complain about that. Certainly he just wanted to make sure you were feeling better. 

You sat there, taking in the sight of Tomas. His warm, gray eyes. His nice, fluffy hair that you always had to hold yourself back from playing with. Your eyes traced over his cheekbones down to his chin, and for the most briefest of seconds, you gazed at his lips.

Why did you have to be sick!?

“Did you take any medicine yet?” He asked, peering at you curiously. You froze, completely forgetting that medicine was a thing. You had just been planning on honestly sleeping this stupid sickness off. Medicine would have definitely helped.

“Uh, no.” You admit, sheepishly. You watched as Smoke playfully rolled his eyes before pulling out a small bottle from his pocket. 

“Good thing I brought some for you.” Smoke said, an almost smug tone in his voice. He poured out two pills, and glanced at you. “I know you too well.” He shook the bottle in his hand as if to emphasize the point.

There was something all too sweet in his voice that made you want to swoon and fall into his arms.

He held out his hand, the two small pills in his palms. Quickly, you reached for them. You ignored the rising heat to your face as your hand brushed his. You really, really wanted to hold his hand. They felt warm and soft.

You felt his expectant eyes on you as you reached for the last of your water. You popped the two pills in your mouth, and you quickly tilted your head back as you took a mouthful of water. You swiftly swallowed, and you let out a sigh as the pills disappeared into your stomach.

“Thank you, Tomas.” You croaked out, and immediately wanted to slap yourself for. Why did your voice have to give out on you on what was supposed to be such a heartfelt moment? Your worries all melted away as he shot you the most beautiful grin you’ve seen in your life.

“Anything for you.” Tomas said, his voice gentle and soft. He said your name with reverence, as if you were the most important thing. He grabbed your hand. And held it carefully between his own. Your eyes dropped to his hand holding, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You weren’t sure if you could pass off the heat on your cheeks as you simply being sick.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Snapping out of your daze, you looked up to see Smoke’s intent gaze on you. You opened your mouth, trying to come up with the correct answer. You certainly couldn’t say that you were too busy swooning over the man to hear what he said. But you couldn’t just say anything because then it’d be obvious you hadn’t been paying attention.

And yet, it didn’t matter.

“You’re too cute.” Tomas said softly, and you suddenly wondered if you had been dreaming all this all this time. Getting up, he leaned over and gently pressed a featherlight kiss onto your forehead. He then drew back with a soft smile. “Get some rest, okay?” He murmured, cupping your cheek gently, rubbing his thumb against it before letting go.

You watched wordlessly as he gathered the bowl and water glass. He turned around and sent you another sweet smile. And you swore in his eyes he had the hint of the smuggest attitude you’ve ever seen on him as he looked you up and down.

He must know how much you adored him. That bastard.

As the door closed, you sat in silence as your face continued to burn. Your heart was beating far too fast for what was healthy for a sick person. You lifted your hand to brush against where his lips had met your forehead, and you felt like you were falling in love all over.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad.

“Look who’s the reckless one, now?”

You grinned as you entered Tomas’ room, a bowl of soup and a glass of water in your hands. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the eye roll he sent you as he blew his nose. Still, he sent you a weak smile as he laid in his bed. He didn’t catch your sickness as bad as you, but he was still sick regardless. Bumping into the door, you closed it as you approached him.

“Maybe it was reckless, but the look on your face was worth it.” Smoke said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he smiled at you. You scoffed, but you knew you couldn’t even fake being mad at this man. Setting down the bowl of soup and the water, you sat on his bed beside him.

“Was it worth it?” 

“Anything is worth it if it involves you.”

Sighing dreamily, you cupped his cheek as you leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. You marveled as his face bloomed into a soft pink. He held your hand in place, leaning into your soft touch. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t think you should be kissing sick people.” Smoke teased, his eyes squinting at you as his eyebrows raised. You rolled your eyes. Raising your hand, you pinched his other cheek, eliciting an exaggerated ‘ouch’ from the man.

“Says you.” You huffed, pouting. 

“My bad.” Tomas chuckled. “I really couldn’t resist though.” He admitted as he looked up at you. Why did he have to have the dreamiest eyes in all of Earthrealm? You returned his smile, rubbing his cheek gently with your thumb. 

Yeah, getting sick wasn’t so bad after all.