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sashi-ya · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

I DON'T CARE, I DON'T MIND 💉 TRAFALGAR LAW X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 8: BAREBACK

🐙requested by: Anonymous. Hello, yes! I forgot the gender lmaoo. Anywho... day 8 with trafalgar Law x fem!reader? (He's my recent obsession since I came to sabaody) ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. pretty sweet and silly. bareback. modern au in where Law still has amber lead's disease. 🐙 wc: 1,6k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

You wouldn’t mind, he is so hot… you wouldn’t care, you’ve always wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him.

“That’s amber lead’s, don’t come any closer” people whispered when he passed through corridors and halls.

“Don’t even talk to him, the moment you touch that boy you’ll get it” they murmured when he sat down, alone, under a tree and ate his lunch.

But you, even though you never came any closer, were never afraid of him and those white spots on his tanned skin. In fact, you spent most of your time looking at him from afar; the way his silver eyes scanned the books, the way his hands one random day appeared covered by tattoos…

That last year of school went by flying, and that man didn’t even attend graduation, because his loneliness perhaps -or maybe how smart he was- allowed him to graduate faster than the rest.

And, despite you never saw him again, he never, ever abandoned your mind.

However, destiny has twisted ways to make it happen, when something is supposed to happen… And it only took ten years.

“Excuse me, Miss… My son isn’t feeling well, do you perhaps know what’s the waiting time?” A tall blonde man, with a kind appearance asks you, an ER nurse receptionist.

You smile at him; it is almost impossible not to. He is young, so naturally you peek to the side to see his son. However, there wasn’t a kid in sight, so you ask.

“Hi Sir, who’s your child?”

“Well, you might say he is still a child in a way…” the man says, pointing at a man of tanned skin and spotted white marks all over him, sitting with his phone.

You immediately remember him, that boy of your school days. But he couldn’t be the same, you are sure his father looked almost like him and not like the man in front of you… yet, the moment he lifts his phone, you notice the D.E.A.T.H tattoos on his hands.

Ten years have passed, maybe it is just a coincidence…

“Oh…” you blink, in awe… if that’s him, then, he has grown up to become an even hotter man that what you could have imagined.

You quickly ask the “father” about his “child” symptoms, but it is the “kid” himself who stands up and starts talking to you.

“Trafalgar Law, 26 years old, high fever, amber lead disease. I need antipyretics, that’s it. Insurance number 107460610” he says, not even looking at you, but constantly at his phone.

Law… He is the same lonely guy you used to admire back in school. “Ok, Mr. Trafalgar. Please, follow me…”

Yet, Law was wrong. He didn’t just need to lower his fever, but, because of his rare disease he had to stay hospitalized for some time. And, to your surprise, one of those nights he remembered you very well.

“You are (Name)-ya, right? From high school. I remember you had a polar bear plushie keychain on your backpack” he mutters while you happen to visit his room to inform he needed to sign some paper so that he could go home by the morning.

You take your eyes from the documents; two opened big orbs fixing on his silver ones. Lips separating, warm breath coming in between your teeth. “He remembers me?”

“I am, yes. Law? The ho- the intelligent kid?” “The horrendous? The lonely one? The sick, contagious kid? Yep”

You immediately shake your head.

“Not the horrendous, the hot one!” you tell him, sincerely. Maybe you shouldn’t have said it, but you won’t allow him to lie about himself that way.

Law remains silent. His cheeks suddenly tinted in slight pink dust. He tried looking away for some time, while you also played dumb re reading the form you hold in your hand.

“Would you like to grab some breakfast tomorrow when I’m finally off this place?” Law finally breaks the heavy silence only filled with the typical sounds of a hospital. “I mean, if you are not… afraid of this” he finishes, showing you the white spots all over his skin.

How could you be afraid, if those garnish his skin like the first snow of the year does to the sand on a beach? Like the clouds beautifully grow on a hot summer sky? Like the powdered sugar sweetens the most delicious pastries?

“It’d be my pleasure, Mr. Trafalgar…”

You couldn’t sleep. You really couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned the whole night, you simply remained in your bed looking at the ceiling as if it had all the answers in the universe… answers you didn’t even know the questions to.

October has already become chilly, and the autumn morning shines its orangey depictions all over your city. The scarf around your neck playfully flies with the breeze outside the hospital and it has you wondering why it is always so damn windy on every hospital door you’ve ever been to.

Such thought becomes interrupted by his sweet raspy voice, and it is actually the first time you come to think it took you almost ten years to hear it for the first time.

Law didn’t touch you, but he called your name to make you turn around. In fact, his hands remain hidden inside his jeans; spotted ones and very tight to his long, long legs.

“Law! Good morning! You are looking better under the sun. Let’s go, I know a good spot” you chime, smiling sweetly. Something inside you tells you to grab his hand in a very friendly way, but you stop yourself… is it because of his disease? Or is it because you are scared of making him uncomfortable?

“I follow you” he only curls a tiny piece of his lips upwards, and immediately after hides underneath a white fluffy cap.

The spot you mentioned wasn’t exactly what Law was expecting; instead of a pâtisserie, you chose a tiny on the go coffee shop in front of the beach. And he was pleased you did; the cold sea breeze kissed his cheeks that helped with the constant blush to have such a beautiful woman by his side.

Both prefer to fix your eyes towards the sea, as you sit on a bench facing the beach. A hot cocoa warms your palms, while a little inner voice screams to look at him.

“So… what did you do aft-“ you want to ask; but you are cut short. “I had a crush on you, (Name)-ya” Law startles you with those words.

You quickly turn to look at him; out of words you blink slowly trying to process those words, maybe even unsure he had actually said them, or it was just your wishful mind.

“Everybody turned their faces when I passed, they never looked but only murmured. But you, instead, looked at me. You looked at me. I guess you were just curious, but I still had a crush on you” he reassures.

You smile, and your hand lands on his thigh.

“I was, indeed, curious. But I also wanted to talk to you, to sit right by your side and ask about those “Sora the Warrior of the Sea” comic books… I am still curious… and I am still looking at you…” you confess, coming closer at him, slowly, so carefully.

“Are you?” “I am…”

Those words maybe were never said; perhaps, they were only thought. However, your lips encountered his so out of the blue, so sudden and unplanned. A kiss so long due, that could even make you laugh to think of how it happened… grown up adults acting like teenagers in love?

Definitely, both of you act like it, as Law grabs your hand, and both stand up when the kiss breaks.

“I know this will sound weird and so out of chivalry but… would you like to uh… visit that place?” he asks, pointing at a tiny love hotel from across the street.

Out of chivalry he says? Well, perhaps. But who cares?

You’ve always wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him.

It took you two a couple of minutes to finally get a room; a Thursday morning isn’t a very busy time for that type of activities after all.

Bam! The door of the room opened with his back hitting it as both kept kissing.

“(Name)-ya, aren’t you afraid of my disease? My skin, see? Covered in this” he asks, while your hands work to undress him -rip his clothes off-.

“What spots? I only see those sexy ass tattoos…” you smirk, kissing his neck and the heart inked on his chest.

Truth is, science still fought over the “contagiousness” of that illness and still, you didn’t mind, you didn’t care. And Law couldn’t resist himself, no more. You were ok with those spots, you didn’t mind, you didn’t care!

Skilful inked fingers, hands so deadly undress you as fast as desperate. Your skin, so different than his, so perfect, so kissable, also desperate, waited for his wet and warm kisses.

Slowly, or maybe violent, both fell on a bed. Bodies jumping, looking at each other side by side on the ceiling mirror… it was almost magical to see the reflection of your flesh one against the other, rubbing, white spots against “healthy” skin… make me sick, I don’t mind, I don’t care!

It definitely feels like making love for the first time, like teenagers touching other for the first time. You knew Law knows how to fuck a woman, but this time he couldn’t avoid acting clumsy and desperate.

Kisses all over your skin, your nails carved on his tattooed back. I don’t mind for foreplay, just fuck me raw… bare… do not even think of it.

He guides his sex, hard, warm into you. Hands a little trembling, kissing you nonstop. Your hips buck up, searching, allowing, letting him bury deep inside you.

“Ngh… are you sure? I could make you sick…” “Fuck me, Law. I don’t mind, I don’t care… I actually had a crush on you, too… And I still do…”

Taglist of amazing babes: @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @votaeto @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @adamsfanficstash @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 @anothersoulless 💖🍓

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frankingsteinery · 6 months ago

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there are many interpretations on just what the “nervous fever, which confined me for several months” that victor experienced was, but i don’t think anyone has yet put forward the idea that it was based on hypochondriasis. (in general i will refer to this source, a practical treatise of hypochondriasis written by john hill in 1766, in regard to just what hypochondriasis is–it’s a very interesting read and i would recommend it!)

hypochondriasis (which now carries a different meaning–i am not referring to hypochondria i.e. abnormal anxiety/fear about one’s health) was a non-specific condition that encompassed many varieties of the “nervous illnesses” of the 18th century. the concept was derived from theories of bodily humors and was once considered a special form of melancholy resulting from an excess of black bile, or alternatively that it was an obstruction in the body caused by high emotion, among many other explanations–but in hypochondriasis, and in the 17-18th century in general, the idea that the health of the mind and the body were inherently linked was HUGE. while it’s not readily definable it was generally seen as the masculine equivalent to hysteria in females, which is thematically important in ways i’ll get into later.

in short, hypochondriasis:

is caused by grief and/or “fatigue of the mind” i.e. intense, prolonged study or focus on one thing, particularly night studies

those who are educated, studious, isolated, sedate and inactive (not among nature), are more susceptible

typically begins and reoccurs in autumn months

results in self-isolation, depression, a “disrelish of amusements,” wild thoughts or overthinking on one subject, and a sense of oppression in the body

physically, it causes low appetite, heart palpitations, dizziness, confusion, night sweats, emaciation, convulsions, etc

fits of high emotion, excessive exercise, and shock can cause relapses, even months or years after the first event

is said to be cured by mild medicine, but no chemistry; but above all, it is cured by the study of nature, and hypochondriac people should get frequent air and exercise

the parallels to victor are rather blatant. the study of natural philosophy becomes victor’s “sole occupation,” and he describes being “animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm.” in the treatise, those subject to the disease are said to be those who have “greatly exerted [the mind’s] powers” and have ”determined resolution…intent upon their object [of attention]”. It’s also noted that “whatever tends to the ennobling of the soul has equal share in bringing on this weakness of the body.”

it is this focus on creating new life, and later, this self-isolation, that results in his “cheek becom[ing] pale with study,” and his “person had become emaciated with confinement” and he “seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit.” it is to the extent that his eyes become “insensible to the charms of nature” and he neglects correspondence with his friends and family. he becomes “oppressed by a slow fever…and nervous to a most painful degree” and, like those with hypochondriasis, believes that “exercise and amusement would then drive away incipient disease.”

it’s also notable that the height of victor’s illness–directly after the creature’s creation–occurs, like in hypochondriasis, in autumn. during it, he describes many of the physical symptoms attributed to hypochondriasis: weakness, heart palpitations, dizziness, wild thoughts and paranoia, convulsions, etc. it’s only after henry’s care that he is able to recover, and in particular, after viewing a scene of nature:

I remember the first time I became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared, and that the young buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It was a divine spring; and the season contributed greatly to my convalescence. I felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in my bosom; my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became as cheerful as before I was attacked by the fatal passion.

throughout the novel, these symptoms will reoccur (relapse) in times of high emotion, shock and stress–justine’s trial, the confrontation at the alps, during the creation of the female creature, etc. overall he meets the marks of hypochondriasis nearly down to a T.

and, returning to the idea that hypochondriasis is essentially the male equivalent of hysteria, which was only attributed to females at the time, this is relevant because frankenstein is a female narrative synthesized through a male narrator. by extension victor also meets many of the marks of hysteria. in general, the creature’s creation feminizes victor: victor remarks that he becomes “as timid as a love-sick girl” during his illness and describes his fever as “painfully nervous” and alternating between “tremor” and “passionate ardour.” during and after the creation process, victor exhibits what was then perceived as “feminine” emotional freedom–anxiety, weakness, self-doubt, fear, etcetera. considering this in-context that 1) victor’s labors allude to mary shelley’s own traumatic experiences with childbirth 2) this was written in a turning point in history where high-class men who had "nervous" senses/feelings were beginning to be seen as effete instead of stylish (they used to be thought fashionable because they were more in-touch with their senses than the lower classes or something to that effect), this all seems very intentional.

now, what do i think victor actually had (since humorism has, obviously, since been disproved)? a 2-for-1 psychotic disorder + whatever concoction of germs he acquired from sticking his hands in corpses for weeks on end combo. but that’s for another day!

#rob.txt #frankenstein #frankenstein the modern prometheus #victor frankenstein #gothic lit #analysis

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festering-obsession · 1 year ago

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How You Fell Into Their Trap

TW/CW: Self- Destructive Behavior, Hollywood-ized Disorders, Yandere/Dark Behavior, Violence, Dubious Consent, Drugging, Slight Divergence from Source, Canon-Typical Violence

A/N: Pacing could be weird in both stories. In both, the reader is pondering the past before it jumps to the present to help with any confusion before reading!!

Slenderman:

You want to tear your eyes out, pull at your skin, and scream until nothing left can be heard. It would be better than the constant paranoia eating at you. The splitting headaches and the dazed look on your face as you slowly forget what day it is.

No medicine, no drug can even make you lose an ounce of these random episodes. What's worse, it that they seem to drag on longer and occur more. You wipe the bile off the corner of your mouth as you lean next to the wall in front of the toilet.

The doctors even are puzzled. They best the can sum it up to is you’re faking it. Your body is faking it. Then why can't you stop any of it? In fact, you beg your body to stop.

You can't ignore the fact that you were a sickly child. Constantly falling under nearly the same symptoms but after your parents moved, it stopped. Occasional bouts here and there, but maybe the cleaner air farther from the city helped. Your parents agreed that you eventually just grew out of your sickness, hoping to move on and forget.

But you could never forget the same figure that haunted you since a child. The same tall, white figure, faceless, in a suit. He was everywhere. As soon as you looked, he was there for a split second. And you could feel his hostile aura waiting to strike and kill you. Even as an adult, that face haunted you.

You tried to pin point what triggered your episodes. Maybe after you went to the forrest with your friend, maybe a weird bug bit you? Or you contracted an infection somehow? The forest was beautiful. Tall trees, lush grasses, variety of flaura, and the mountains raised in the backdrop. All was suppose to go well, but going there was the worst mistake of your life. The previous delusions you seemed to have increased tenfolds and it seemed you threw you friend in the same fate as you.

The two of you wandered the forest after the wind rushed and seemed to grip the map from his hands. And even better? Not a lick of signal. When night time hit, you entered a real life nightmare. The figure that haunted you as a child came back. And scarier than ever. But this time, he also saw it.

Your friend gripped your hand as the two of you narrowly escaped the almost glitching creature. Appearing behind, then in front, and then in a damn tree. When you lost track of the figure, your friend was also losing track of himself. He heaved as he gripped at his hair before pulling at it. Above your own urge to do the same, you tried to grab his hands and stop him. Your friend looked at you as he began to claw at his eyes.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME." He roared as blood began to seep down him. "He told me, he told me that if I touch you, my death will be put in his hands." He sobbed out scooting away from you.

"He? Who's he?" You cried out, confused as you saw your friend trying to hurt himself.

"Him. The man. The one in the shadows. He told me that if I even look at you anymore, he'll rip my eyes out himself." He banged his head on the ground, still clawing at his eyes. "But he granted me the mercy to at least do it myself." Your friend reached for a jagged rock and brought it to his face.

Your head was filled with static to the point you passed out, and awake in your living room. You wanted it to be a dream, but it was farther from the truth. Your coworker and close friend, hung himself in the same place you two hiked at two days prior.

It was your fault, and you couldn't bring yourself to let it happen again as you hauled yourself in your apartment. Refusing contact with anyone. You were just meant to be a disease.

The apartment went on fire, and you never felt more estatic. Finally, you would greet death with open arms, and your family wouldn't live with the regret if you took your own life. Shit, maybe they could even sue to gain some money off your death. Maybe you'd actually bring fortune to someone.

You laid pliant on your bed, smoke filtering inside your room as the fire danced and spread around the room. A smile on your face before you felt its presence again.

The tall figure hovering over you this time, but no sickness accompanied with it. Faceless, except spots that were slightly sunken in that could be mistaken for one, put a finger up to his face presumably to its mouth. He then disappeared and you fell into unconsciousness with it as well.

And appeared back in the same fucking forrest. This time, surrounded by three human(ish) men.

A crazed man with goggles and a mask, wielding a bloodied axe. Next to him, was a seemingly timid one, dressed in an orange hoodie and when you tried to focus closer, all that greeted you was red, sullen eyes. A feminine mask graced the other one as he donned an orange bomber jacket.

Your mouth felt dry and when you tried to scream, it came out a pathetic groan for help. They clearly had no interest in doing so, more concerned on talking to one another in poorly hushed voices.

"You handled them too rough! If they get a bruise, he won't like it." One choked out in a worried tone.

"They're not a doll, they're fine. And besides, it's not like he told us to deliver them to him in 5-star hotel. He wanted them to be brought to the forest and we did. I'm sure he wouldn't be fond if we held on them too long, so to the floor they go." The one behind the mask spoke, steady voiced.

And another air of static rose around you, stiffening your surroundings. You fell in and out of consciousness and could barely even tell if time was moving, or not.

The men had left sometime ago, 3 hours or minutes? You didn't know. All you could feel was the mossy earth and crushed leaves beneath your slightly aching body.

Vision blurred as the man in the black and white dotted across behind your eye lids in mind as you slipped unconscious into a fever like dream. But this time, it didn't make you sick. It was replaced by a sense of, longing? What was once your nightmare incarnated, seemed softer (even for lack of facial features).

You felt as if watching yourself in third person, your figure collapsed on the floor of a velvety chapel, a heavy white [dress/tuxedo] weighing you down to the ground as you could hear a low melody playing in the background, a church hymn low in the distance as the pianist follows suit.

Pushing yourself up with your two arms, your mind follows the red path trailing to the center. You hear murmuring in the distance but as you scanned your surroundings, no one was there. Just the tall white figure dressed in the clean tuxedo.

You felt yourself gliding towards him, despite not even getting up on your feet. But when you looked down, you saw the inky black tendrils span out like tiny veins combining to makin thick ropey tentacles. They slowly brought you towards him as your hands slowly held onto the decaying flower bouquet.

You opened your mouth only to find no words were coming out. You gripped at your lips, trying to force something out to protest against whatever this was but the sweet piano was only heard echoing throughout.

Finally, you were brought to the empty pillar, but the entity's limbs never left your body. Instead, it seemed to latch onto your harder, as it expanded over your body. You gazed over the empty chapel, but the long and slender hands of the monster in front of you made you look at him.

Blank, faceless, pale, but you could feel the tension in the air as he stared at you in his own way. His stark white body contrasting deeply with his black tuxedo. You felt tears rush down your face but the monster seemed to enjoy that sight. As your face came close to his, the static in your head grew. The only word you could make out amiss all the noise was mine.

As your lips finally made contact with the blank slate of a man, you woke up in a large bed. As you glanced around, you found dust on the bed, but everything else looking surprisingly in pristine condition.

Just as you were about to scream, a large hand grasped your shoulder. The entity, that monster. But, instead of the normal vomit inducing headache and static you would feel when you confronted him was gone.

Yet, that [dress/tuxedo] from the dream still remained. As you looked down at your outfit in confusion, the monster slipped his hands under your chin to meet his gaze. The static-like voice replaced with a deep soothing, voice finally talked as his other hand made it up your back.

"Now that your officially mine, I can't find myself being able to hold back much longer."

Jeff The Killer:

Jeffery always seemed on the brink of becoming unhinged. Ever since building up to the, incident. His family moved to the neighborhood, normal enough. His parents, his brother, all seemed well. Even at first meetings Jeffery looked sane enough at first glance. Nothing stood about him. Like every other teenage boy. His light brown hair framed his face in the typical unkempt way with his blue eyes shining against his complexion. His clothes were obviously picked out by his mother since he never cared to actually shop for his wardrobe.

He was not your first choice to be friends with. But as your parents grew cozy with his, they near forced you to befriend the quiet boy.

It was awkward. Standing next to him at the bus stop with small talk eventually landed to you two sitting on the bus together. It grew to where he would spare you an earbud to play music on his music player. Then, it turned to you actually seeking him out during class projects, not because you had no one else to, but you began to somewhat enjoy his company.

You began to come to his house, and him to your house without the prompting of your parents. Maybe you were just as strange as him which explained the quicker connection between the two of you. It ranged from drawing, reading horror stories to eachother on the ever growing "internet", running to the near gas station for a snack stop only to get brain freezes from racing eachother who could drink their slushie faster.

His interests slowly grew darker. Darker videos, interests in the occult and local murders and death, and even visiting previous crime scenes. You didn't notice at first, you enjoyed the more taboo subjects, but he seemed to take it on a different level. But like you, he was just a young adult trying to figure out the big world, right...?

As his interests grew more morbid, a group of boys began to pick on him. His brother did what he could do to halt them as you tried to center Jeffery's attention elsewhere, but you knew it was beginning to wear him down.

He fought them. Not only did he fight one by himself, but three. He was scuffed up, but the other boys more so. You felt in a daze. Although it was self defense, he would be put in the blame. He came to your house soon after, but he wasn't in a panic. He was happy. Estatic. You fussed over his bruises and small cuts as you dabbed on first aid supplies. He couldn't stop talking for the death of him. You ignored most of it as he tended to talk lots of nonsense most the time, but a sentence stood out you couldn't ignore.

"I never felt more alive."

He looked at you. His blue eyes shining threw his choppy, layered hair. He gently held your wrist in the middle of applying an antibiotic cream.

"S/o, I want you to know, if anything happens, you're coming with me. I promise that." His once happy persona faded as he stared at you solemnly. You nodded slowly and continued patching him up.

When the police came, his brother Liu took his spot and told them it was him. You've never seen Jeffery so desperate to admit his own crimes but the police left, leaving the younger brother. It changed something in him. He only trusted Liu and you. But with him gone, he was clingy and.. handsy. Always trying to have you physically touching him in some way. Either him pressed up against your side or his hand wrapped around yours. His twisted mind finally grasping the concept of how easily people can be taken from him.

To no one's surprise, he did get in trouble more at school. His parents blaming him for getting into so much trouble in his senior year. To your surprise, not too long after that fight, his parents forced him to go to a party with them as a way to "clean" up their image. Like the loyal friend you were, you went with him.

It all happened too fast. His bullies were back as ready for vengeance all the same as if they didn't cause enough damage. One grabbed at you taunting him, "No big brother now, and no [girlfriend/boyfriend] to help you either!" One cackled as they drew a knife near your throat. He never had lost his composure so fast as he saw you. In his mind, you were his and that disgusting shit touched you.

Pure chaos erupted as two boys dropped dead. Blood on both men. Police were called but none came fast enough. Tears went down your face as you tried to grab one of them to stop but your parents held you back in horror watching them fight. Eventually Jeffery got the advantage and took time to prepare his next move in state of manic happiness. He didn't mind the bleach dripping down his frame. He had murder on his mind.

"Remember my promise. I will come to get you soon!" He looked back at you before he grabbed onto the knife and lodged it into the attackers chest. You felt dizzy with the scene in front of you, finally hearing sirens from the cops.

The final movement from the attacker lifted up a match and sent Jeffery on fucking fire. A blood curling scream from the crowd erupted before you felt sick to your stomach and passed out.

He was sent to the hospital, and as much as you were trying to visit him, only family was allowed. Countless nights you worried over the health of a boy you didn't even want to be friends with in the beginning. Too weak to talk to him one on one. All information you got on his wellbeing was from his parents who were already stressed enough.

When he was finally released from hospital and was being sent home, your parents allowed you to visit him the following morning.

As the sun rose and birds chirped, you sprinted to his house with the latest music DVDs and horror movies that he missed out on. You knocked on the door as you barely contained your glee for seeing him.

The door opened. It was unlocked. And the smell of metal wafted to your nostrils. You peaked your head and opened the already ajar door.

And you screamed as blood was splattered in every corner.

But, that was years ago. No longer the dumb teenager you were, but yet it was still stained on your mind. The countless headliners for the news, the police interviews, the therapy sessions. You moved far away from that neighborhood but no matter where you go, the memories would still follow.

Although a murderer now, still on the loose which scared you to your core, you yearned for the nostalgic Jeffery. The one before the murders.

You placed the book of photos down, gingerly touching the photo where you and Jeffery clicked slushies together. It was over now though, that was the past.

That night as you laid to rest, you felt the cold breeze of the nightly wind under your sheets.

You also felt cold wet drops on your face as a hand slapped against your mouth before you could fully register what was happening.

A manic grin spread from ear to ear, scared red against deathly pale skin. Eyes a dull blue with dark eyebags. The hair was jet black and frayed in a shaggy like mullet.

His other hand held your arms in one grip as he started laughing.

"Oh, s/o, I finally found you." He cried out in-between bursts of laughter.

"But where the fuck were you when I needed you. Where were you when I told you I'd come to get you."

And your heart dropped as you mumbled through his fingers. "Jeffery, is that you...?"

"The one and only and STOP AVOIDING THE QUESTION. WHERE WERE YOU?" He begged out, his happiness dropped. "It was suppose to be just me and you. Just us against the world. I needed you to wait for me. But when I finally got my own footing, you left!"

"I fucking missed you. But now, " He shifted eagerly as he straddled your hips. "I'm myself. This is what I was meant to be, and can you even accept that?"

You look at him in shock, your whole body feels like it was dropped in freezing water. Your heart was in the dilemma of whether it's about to stop or keep beating as wildly as possible.

"I don't expect you to respond now. But you will answer me later, you whore." He leaned down and took his hand off your mouth. "I hate that I still like you even after you abondoned me."

His lips hovered over yours teasingly. "I fucking hate the fact you're still as beautiful as the day you left me. But now, you're staying with me." Despite his taunting demeanor, there is an act of urgency, desperation, in his next moves.

His lips connected to yours within seconds as you tried to squirm away. His hands still holding yours away from pushing him. His hand gripped your cheek as he pushed the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

And then you felt a foreign pill slip into your mouth as Jeff still kept the kiss connected, forcing you to swallow.

"Go to sleep." He breathes out, finally pulling away from your lips. You are hit with an unfamiliar urge to go unconscious. Your limbs feel unbearably heavy as your eyelids begin to close again. The last thing you see before your eyes shut is his insanely stretched out smile and his lovesick eyes glaring at you.

….

[Heyyy I’m alive guys. Work and school kicked my ass but I’m still here. Also, part two down here lol.]

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta imagines #jeff the killer x reader #slenderman x reader

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painted-flag · 1 month ago

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OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 11: A New Ally

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. (with updated upload schedule) ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.3k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ You come to forge a bond with an unlikely ally.

You were caught in a state of reverie as you walked from your room to the sick hall. Helaena had joined you that morning to break one another’s fast. Amara and Liriel were off their duties for the day and Helaena insisted she get you ready. The princess had become oddly invested in what you wore as of late. Likely her way of trying to spend more time with you. Though, if she asked, you would gladly just sit in silence with her if she wanted; it was always comfortable to do that.

When she left, you were put in a dangerous position. Whenever you were not occupying your mind with work or talking to friends, your thoughts would drift towards Aemond. You would wonder what he was doing and immediately scold yourself. You had no reason for the sudden change in thoughts nor did you wish to even investigate why. It was better to constantly keep your mind occupied to avoid the real truth that hovered on the edge of your consciousness.

So, when you walked into the corridor outside the sick hall to start your rounds, you were met with immense displeasure - and slight buzz - at seeing Aemond standing just outside the open doors.

He had his arms clasped behind his back and appeared to be waiting for something. You walked closer and he turned upon hearing you approach.

“Is there anything you need, your grace? I believe Daeron is in the laboratory.” You questioned.

“I wish to be filled in on the patients. Seeing as my brother is occupied, I believe you can handle it.” Aemond informed you. Inside your mind, you cringed. Of all the things that would help you take your mind off that very elf, having him visit your place of work was not in the cards.

“I was just about to make my rounds,” You walked into the hall with Aemond trailing behind. There was a station that the other healers used. In it were the aprons and supplies needed. You tied it around your waist and loaded various tonics, bandages, and herbs into the allotted pockets. All the while Aemond watched you get ready.

“Is there a reason his grace wishes to invest himself in our research?” As you slipped the last of your needed supplies into the apron, you looked up at Aemond to find him already watching you.

He adjusted his stance from one foot to the next and scanned the large hall with his eye, “I’ve suddenly developed an interest in it.” You could not quite decipher the tone in his voice. Daeron never mentioned Aemond caring too much in this process other than occasionally asking for any significant updates – of which there was never much at all.

You then gestured to the vast hall filled with rows of patients on cots. The space was illuminated by the large chandeliers and lanterns strung about. You wondered if you would ever get used to the perpetual darkness – a constant night – caused by the elder trees. It was uniquely beautiful, a mix of both eerieness and otherworldly sights.

“I must admit, my expertise when I came was largely on the taint’s effects on nature. Daeron has helped extensively in teaching me the physiological effects,” You began to walk. Many patients were in a deep sleep, so you would check over their body for any signs of symptom intensification while informing Aemond of all you could think about, “The taint infects them through contact with body openings. The speed at which it burns through the body varies and we have yet to figure out why.”

You made sure to pace away from any of the patient's range of hearing. You leaned closer to Aemond, suddenly overcome by his increasingly familiar scent of burning wood, parchment, and spices.

You made sure to keep your voice down, “That sectioned-off area at the end of the hall is where the late-stage patients are. Nothing seems to ease their pain and the visual effects of the taint are intense. They typically only have a day or two before…” Your voice trailed off and your face scrunched up in slight pain. Despite working under these conditions for a little over two weeks, you would never get used to the tug at your heart when seeing patients die.

Deciding it was best to move on, you went about treating other patients. All the while Aemond hovered close, occasionally exchanging words with the patients. Many of them were elves from the outskirts of the kingdom and rarely saw the king, so it was rather exciting for them to see him.

Your mood took a turn for the better when you arrived at Lyra’s cot. She shot up in bed and reached out for you with an excited look on her face. She called out your name and let out a heartwarming giggle.

“How are you, sweet girl?” You questioned as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m feeling better than I was yesterday,” She replied, “How is Lady?”

You pulled the small doll from one of your pockets and positioned her to face Lyra. One of your hands gently picked up the arm and had the doll make a waving motion towards her. Lyra giggled and brushed the doll's hair with one of her hands.

“Well, Lady has been an incredible help with my work. She likes watching the potions brew in my laboratory. I have also taken her on a few walks in the garden by my room.” You informed her. In the moment, you forgot about Aemond who stood close by and watched your exchange with Lyra.

Lyra looked over your shoulder and her face paled, “Y-your grace.” She moved to bow but groaned in pain. You stopped her from moving and eased her back to lying down. You looked back at Aemond and tilted your head as if to order him closer. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed but still had a tenseness in his shoulders.

He seemed to be at a loss for words to address such a young girl being condemned to a death bed, so you spoke up, “The king is here to check in on everyone. He cares deeply for his people and worries if you are all being treated well.”

Lyra handed the doll back to you and addressed her king, speaking your name first, “She helps me whenever I need it and does the same for everybody else. She’s my best friend.” You sucked in a breath and tried to fight back the tears that pooled in your eyes. Aemond cast a glance towards you, something brewing behind his eye. There was a slight twitch of his right brow as he regarded you.

The sound of boots hitting hurriedly against the floor distracted you. Daeron came rushing down the aisle and stopped by the bed. His chest heaved and he took a moment to compose himself. You stood up from the bed and moved to rest your hand on his shoulder as he coughed. Aemond’s eye once again zeroed in on your hand and you quickly rescinded it from Daeron’s shoulder. You did not want him to get the wrong impression again.

“The…” He wheezed to catch his breath, “The potions. They’re more successful than the previous ones.”

His words seemed to catch you off guard and you grasped both of his shoulders, not caring about how it is perceived, “What?”

Daeron reciprocated, his hands resting against your shoulders. He looked into your eyes, “It is not a complete solution, but is damn well close, you genius.”

You jumped back and turned to Lyra, “Darling, I must go, but I will see you later. Then, we can talk about our plans for adventures.” You bring back a previous topic that you had been reluctant to do so again. On a previous visit, you did not want to give her hopes up for a cure but did express your want to take her to visit many places. Perhaps, now, you could fulfill that wish.

“Your grace,” You turned to Aemond, “Forgive me but I must head back to the lab with the prince,”

The king made a quick motion with his head in dismissal, “I shall not keep you.”

You and Daeron then shot away, dashing down the centre aisle and towards the laboratory. Emotions bubbled through your body. If Daeron was correct, then the progress made from the potions could be enough to narrow down the possibilities of a cure.

In this kingdom and its resources, you had made more progress in such a short period than you ever had in your years of past research. It was more exhilarating and rewarding than ever.

It was pure exhaustion that led you to leave the laboratory in the late hours of the night. Daeron had shown you the progress both of the brews made on samples of plant matter. It only paused the deterioration of the taint, but did not get rid of it completely. Regardless, it had been a massive breakthrough. More pots had been made, with some of the other lesser elf healers coming to aid in the creation of them.

If all went well, those potions could be tested on some of the willing patients late into the next day. Then, with the gods willing, the possible success of the plants can be seen in the body and distributed to the patients to stop them from getting increasingly ill. They would still be sick, but at the very least it would not lead to death. You and Daeron would be given more time to find a cure without the burden of losing patients.

You stayed with the healers in the creation of the potions, but Daeron had made you go after the fifth time of almost collapsing due to exhaustion. You were reluctant but acquiesced. It was, with great misfortune, that a particular elf interrupted your path.

Criston Cole stood in your way. His armour reflected the torchlight from the walls. You could see the bitter smirk on his face and the intense malice reflected in his eyes.

“I heard you’ve made some wonderful progress.” He taunted. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. While it was a habit Aemond had, Cole’s attempt at replicating it came across as juvenile. No ounce of command in the king’s presence could ever be mustered in an elf like Cole.

You put up a strong resolve and prepared to take his pointless insults. While he had only ever directly talked to you in your first week while you were in the garden harvesting herbs, there were occasional moments when the two of you would be in the same area. He had, even from far away, made it easily known that he harboured a great feeling of disdain towards you.

“We have indeed,” You paid extra care in reminding him that it was not solely you who had worked on the cure. No victory belonged to a single person in this fight.

Cole got closer, his taller figure imposing, “Ah yes, how could I forget? My apologies, I do not know why I was so foolish to believe your kind could make such a feat.”

He tried to get under your skin, but you would not let him, “No worries, Ser Cole. I do not blame you for forgetting such a simple thing, with all of your… overwhelming duties on the council.” You stood on the tightrope between civility and discourtesy.

His eyes narrowed and you could tell his temper had flared. He then stood chest to chest with you and raised his arm. You stood with your shoulders straight, willing to take whatever he threw at you. Cole would not have you act out in violence towards him. Despite having made incredible progress here, your record was not entirely clean since your run into the woods. If you chose to attack an elf – especially a council member – no amount of advocacy on Helaena’s, Daeron’s or even Aegon’s account would save you from harsh punishment.

As Cole narrowed in to strike you, a voice interrupted, “I hope I am gravely mistaken for what I am witnessing.”

Aegon came forth from a corner at the end of the hallway. This time, at least for you, his state of appearance was new. He wore slightly better clothing and appeared to be in no state of inebriation. Was this all a dream or some weird hallucination? Was Aegon… sober?

“Pardon, my prince?” Cole questioned.

“I said,” Aegon repeated as he came up to the elf and stood directly in front of him, blocking you slightly, “I hope I am gravely mistaken that you, an esteemed member of my brother’s council, were about to hit a lady.”

Cole almost seemed to crumble. He took a step back and plastered on a fake smile. He laughed nervously, “My prince, that is absurd. I was simply pointing her towards her room.”

“She needs directions in an area of the castle she has frequented for a few weeks?” Aegon raised his eyebrow in a challenge and turned back to you who stood behind him, “Is this true?”

You looked at Cole and the face he gave you was full of agitation. As much as he mocked you, your answer could decide what would happen to him. If you admitted that he was going to strike you, his punishment could be severe – which is why there was an almost pleading look in his eye. It was incredibly pathetic that you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

However, it would best keep this under wraps so that possibly in the future, he could owe you, “No, my prince. I am simply exhausted and disoriented. Ser Cole was helping me.”

Criston deflated slightly, a breath leaving his mouth. Aegon turned to the elf and received a nod of confirmation. You could tell by the look on his face that he did not believe it in any way but nodded his head.

“Ah, well then I shall escort her to her room. She will not need your help anymore, Ser Cole.” Aegon’s tone got harsher by the end of his words. He hooked his arm through yours and began to move you down the hallway, not even staying to acknowledge any more words from the elf.

Once the two of you were carefully sequestered in your room, Aegon spoke again, “I have no idea why you would ever cover for such a lowlife craven bastard.” His words seemed to shock you by their intensity, but you could not argue against them. You did not know that Aegon harboured such resentment towards Cole. You thought that perhaps he may be jealous of Cole’s seat on his brother's council.

“What is Cole’s problem?” You asked.

Aegon went to the pitcher and cups on the table in your living space. He took the wine and poured himself a drink before settling comfortably into your plush cushions. He waved the cup around in his hand, “I do not even think the gods know.”

You huffed out a small laugh and sat on the couch across from him. He quickly poured you a cup and you took it with grace. Elven wine had grown on you despite its strong nature and you found yourself preferring it over any of the wines back home. It was an observation you found yourself making a lot; how you tended to prefer things here than back in your home kingdom.

The two of you spent a good while drinking and conversing in small talk. However, you glanced at the table you broke your fast at and saw your father’s journal lying there. You sat the chalice down on the low table between the couches and sat up from your relaxed position. You clasped your hands together.

“Aegon?” You got his attention. He turned and saw your serious posture and expression and mimicked it, though more comical in the way his body swayed. “What do you know of Lake Rosmagne?”

He seemed taken aback for a moment, as if surprised you did not ask an intense question given your serious nature, “Can’t say it is of particular importance. It is a lake associated with light magic, but most of the lakes in our borders possess magical qualities. Why do you ask?”

You bite your lip and contemplate confiding in him. While not as trustworthy as Daeron, you did not feel like this was something to inform him of nor was he always willing to go along with your ideas. Helaena may not give you the answers you seek in her attempts to keep you safe; something you did not blame her for.

Aegon on the other hand, does not hold the same intense desire to protect you as Helaena does. He lacked the restraint and composure of Daeron. For a while, he was the perfect candidate to confide in.

“My father wrote about going to that lake for his studies. It had something to do with a hunch. It was his last entry before his disappearance.” You confessed. You picked up the chalice again and took a sharp swig. The cup was cradled in your lap and your fingernails scrapped against the markings carved in the gold plating.

“You think my brother had something to do with it?” Aegon asked.

“Why does everybody always involve Aemond with my issues?” You questioned exasperatingly.

“I did not specify which brother.” Aegon smirked and took a sip of his drink before continuing, “Look if you think there is something truly awry, I could help you.”

“Why would you want to help? You did not know my father.” Your face scrunched up.

“That is true, but do you see me doing anything else? The duties I do have are impossibly boring.” Aegon yawned and set the cup down. He walked to your door and opened it. He paused and turned back around. “You are also my friend now… and possible good-sister soon.”

You sighed loudly with frustration, “I wish not to repeat myself to anyone but Daeron is nothing but a treasured friend.” You tried to reason.

Aegon gave you a coy smirk and repeated his previous words, “I did not specify which brother.” Before you could even think to respond, he left your room and shut the door. You were left in your room, drink in hand, wondering what possible meaning could be behind his words. It was like a cryptic message or some frustrating childhood riddle that could not be solved no matter how hard you tried.

You decided it was best not to dwell on it and get ready for bed.

It was the next day and you had been skipping down to the hall to get to work. All night the potions had to be brewing and you were excited beyond belief. There was a joviality in your step you had not experienced in many years. You planned to check in on the patients and see if any were willing to volunteer themselves to test different dosages of the potion. Then hopefully, there could be a path to delaying the intensity of the infection in the elves and gain more time for finding a cure.

You turned the corner to see the entrance of the sick hall. The doors were opened and Daeron stood there. His shoulders were slumped and his expression was brokenhearted. Redness surrounded his eyes and he appeared to be on the verge of tears. When he saw you, he stepped forward to stop you from entering the hall. Daeron’s hand grabbed your forearm gently and his eyes conveyed sympathy with hints of agony.

Your mood immediately dropped, “What is it?”

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to get the words out. You spoke again, “Daeron, what has happened?”

Daeron spoke your name and his voice cracked at the end, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 12: Death's Sting Preview

Aemond stood tall, his one eye trained on you. There was a determination that swirled in those orbs along with something indecipherable. You were confused as to why he had come to visit so long into your grief or even come at all.

“You have an hour to pack,” Aemond informed.

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

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jjkamochoso · 6 months ago

Text

Lovesick… Emphasis on the “Sick”

Fluff

You have a really bad cold and Levi, of course, takes care of you :)

Levi Ackerman x sick!gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of mucus, runny noses, general cold/flu symptoms, cussing

A/N: hi everyone i am currently Sick as Shit so i really hope this fic flows okay and makes sense!! if it doesn't... yes it does

You had never felt so terrible in your entire life as you did that morning. Your whole body ached like you had gotten thrown into a tree by a titan and your head was throbbing with an intensity akin to thunder and lightning in your brain. Your stomach was getting sore from all the coughing you had been doing the previous night and your nose was completely plugged up in both nostrils. When you finally rolled out of bed, begrudgingly getting ready for work, you could barely stand up. You had no idea how you were going to complete your duties today in the state of exhaustion you were feeling. As a captain in the Survey Corps, you had lots of responsibility riding on your shoulders and you couldn’t let anyone down by taking a sick day. You bent over to pull up your pants which led you straight into a long lasting coughing fit, leaving you gasping for breath like you had sprinted a marathon. You let out an anguished groan as your jacket sleeves were yanked onto your arms to the best of your ability. Looking in the small mirror that sat on your bedroom dresser, your head fell forward in despair. If you thought you felt bad, you looked a million times worse. You were completely disheveled; your skin was taking on a sickly hue and your eyelids were barely staying open. You turned away from the grisly sight as quickly as possible without falling over or bringing on another bout of nausea, opting to pretend you noticed nothing different in the way you looked today if anyone dared ask. You grabbed a few stray papers from your desk that needed to be signed by the commander, choosing that as your first task to be finished this morning. As you closed the door to your room, you winced at the loud noise it made in the echoing hallways, doing absolutely nothing to help your headache. You soldiered on toward Erwin’s office, each step draining more and more energy from your frail body. You were one hallway away from where you needed to be when you felt a cough attack come out of nowhere, your body racking as spit and germs angrily shot out of your mouth and into the arm of your uniform.

“Who is making that disgusting racket?” a firm voice called from opposite of where you were standing. Captain Levi then entered your view, lips pressed firmly together and eyebrows furrowed in a state of repulsion.

“Captain Y/n. I’m not surprised those sounds were from you, you look like shit.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you, Levi?” you said, sniffling and sneezing into your handkerchief.

“Tch. Why didn’t you take a sick day? I don’t want your nasty germs spreading around the Scouts,” he said, eyeing you from a safe distance.

Another coughing fit.

“Because,” you sputtered out, “I have work to do. I can’t slack off because of a little cold.”

“Looking like you’ve approached death’s door isn’t what I would call a little cold,” said Levi, now sporting a frown. Levi was no stranger to sickness—he’d been surrounded by it since his birth, and especially now while living in barracks with all these people, but it didn’t make seeing you come down with an illness any easier. You were one of his closest comrades and, as childish as it sounds, seeing people he cared for catch a sickness made anxiety bubble in his stomach as his thoughts roamed to the corpse of his beloved mother, staring at him with those lifeless eyes as disease slowly consumed her before she perished. He’d be damned if he let anyone else suffer that same fate so he certainly wasn’t going to let you run yourself ragged.

“I’m fine. I-”

“Go back to your room. That’s an order.”

“We’re the same rank, you can’t boss me around” you said, crossing your arms.

“Does it look like I care?”

Judging by his deadly serious expression, he truly did not.

“I have to get these to Erwin. It’s important,” you told him, waving around the papers you held. Levi crossed the gap between you in quick strides, the papers slipping from your grasp with ease into his own.

“Fine. I’ll take them. Go to bed, brat.”

You weren’t in the mood or right mental state to argue so you began to take your leave. Everything was going fine until you got superbly dizzy, your shoes barely able to grip the ground and keep you upright. You stumbled back toward your bedroom’s corridor but your boots could no longer make purchase on the slippery stone floor. Before you could fall to the ground, though, you felt two strong arms wrap around your middle, steadying you. You immediately knew it to be Levi and you were grateful as he helped you into your room, guiding you to your bed and setting you down as gently as could be.

“You have to be careful. I don’t want to clean up the remains of your cracked skull off the floor,” he reprimanded. You sighed, feeling a bit of guilt creeping up for distressing him. You knew this was his way of letting you know he was worried about you. Sure, he was gruff and used kind words sparingly, but his actions did all the necessary talking for him. And what he was saying right now, as he untied your boots and ODM straps, was that he was there to take care of you.

“Change out of your uniform and into something less presentable. I don’t want you getting any funny ideas of sneaking back to work after I leave.”

“Yes, Captain,” you joked, saluting him lamely and sending yourself into yet another coughing fit. Levi’s steel gaze softened as he observed you in your weakened state. It pained him to see you like this and he’d do everything in his power to nurse you back to health.

When Levi returned to your room a half hour later, signed papers in one hand and a piping hot cup of tea in the other, he wasn’t prepared for the absolute mess he was greeted with. There were used handkerchiefs littering the floor and you were preoccupied with hacking up mucous from your lungs. The sound of the wet cough made Levi cringe to the deepest extent, but he wasn’t deterred; in fact, it made him more determined to get you healthy again in no time. He never backed down from a challenge and this situation was no different to him that solving a problem within the Scouts—with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of strength and courage, he’d get you through this with as little hang-ups as possible. The raven haired man placed the papers from Erwin neatly on your desk, the tea finding a temporary spot next to them for a moment as he procured a mask from his pocket, covering his mouth with the fabric and tying the strings behind his head. He then picked the tea back up and walked to where you were coughing up a storm. He placed his free hand upon your back in an attempt to calm you. It seemed to work as you gained control over your breathing and stopped convulsing. He silently held out the teacup and you took it, a voice cracking “thanks” leaving your chapped lips. His eyes nervously scanned over your figure as you sipped on the warm drink he brought you, intensely looking for any sign of discomfort. As you swallowed down the delightful leaf water, you felt an extreme chill blast through your body. Levi noticed the goosebumps spreading across your skin and, without hesitation, rested the back of his hand against your forehead.

“You have a fever,” he stated plainly, trying to keep his racing thoughts at bay the best he could. Could he make you more comfortable in any way? Should you be under a blanket since you were cold or have a cold compress since you were also hot? How could he help you break the fever?

“Levi,” you whimpered, freeing him from the endless vast of questions he pondered on his mind, “can I h-have an extra blanket, pl-please? I’m f-freezing.”

“Of course.” He responded unnaturally fast, eager to fulfill any requests you gave him. The person taking care of you was still the awkward, almost socially inept, sarcastic man you knew, but the way he so lovingly tucked you in under the soft blanket he draped over your body had you wondering if you died, went to heaven, and were now under the care of an actual angel. When Levi put a cold washcloth to your hot-to-the-touch head, you let out a gasp of relief. Soon enough your eyes were closed and you were asleep, Levi keeping a close watch on how your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and making sure you weren’t having any difficulties breathing. He could hear that you were still stuffed up and had plenty of mucus build up in the way you were wheezing in your slumber, but he was happy you were at least able to get some good rest for now. He didn’t want to leave your side but he knew you needed medicine so he quickly departed, making a beeline for the infirmary.

"Captain!" the doctor saluted him, "how can I help today?"

"I need your strongest medicine for cold symptoms," requested Levi.

"I'll work on that right away," said the doctor, already preparing the ingredients. "Feeling under the weather?"

"It's not for me. Captain y/n is sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that, I hope they feel better soon. That's awfully kind of you to pick this up for them especially since I know how much you hate coming in here. They're lucky to have you around."

Levi just grunted in acknowledgement and hoped the doctor would end the torment of her making small talk with him. By some miracle, it was like she read the man's mind, making no indication of wanting to continue the conversation. The next few minutes in the infirmary were filled only with the sounds of glass clinking as your medicine was being made. The doctor eventually finished, handing Levi the elixir.

"Thank you," he told the doctor, wasting no time getting out of there. Like the doctor mentioned, he despised setting foot in the infirmary. All the germs and suffering that went on in there was nothing he wanted to willingly subject himself to unless it was a dire emergency. Getting you some medicine was absolutely worth every second in that repulsive place and he'd gladly go in as many times as needed if it meant he could see you well again. Moving through the hallways at top speed, he decided to grab you some snacks from the dining hall since he knew you hadn't eaten all day. Relief washed over him when he saw you were still soundly asleep as he opened the familiar wood door. Picking up the used handkerchiefs and placing them in the pile of used laundry in the corner, he was pleased with how quickly your room looked better. Now out of things to keep him busy, he left you alone one last time to retrieve a pile of his own work papers so he wouldn't fall too far behind. As he took a seat at your desk, he felt his attention roam to you once more. Seeing you lying there, finally so peaceful after experiencing such awful cold symptoms, stirred up an emotion in Levi he couldn't quite place. Sure, you two were close friends, on the same level of trust and respect that he held for his squad and even Hange, but had he ever gone this far out of his way to help them when they were sick like he was doing now for you? He couldn't recall. He disliked watching any of his friends fight sicknesses of any kind but when he witnessed the horrid display of your illness earlier that morning, it felt like his world was about to crumble if he didn't help you that instant. Never in his life had he felt the urge to abandon his duties in favor of doing something else--until today. He'd much rather forgo paperwork and meetings to help you back on your feet, or at least to make you realize you didn't have to struggle alone. He didn't know what was coming over him as he took notice of the strong desire to place a hand on your cheek and tell you everything was going to be okay when you woke up. Levi felt his face get hot with embarrassment at the mere thought of touching you so delicately like that. Was he getting sick too? What was with his heart pounding at the idea of getting close to you like that? He got ahold of himself quickly, deciding to sort through his frazzled thoughts later. Right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to: the work in front of him and keeping you as satisfied as possible. You were squared away for now so the only thing left for him to do was work. He glanced at you one last time, burying the lingering feeling of wanting to hold your hand in a comforting manner deep into the darkest corner of his mind where it could no longer torment him, then he turned away and began reading.

Levi's attention was pulled from his work when he heard you begin to cough and blow your nose a few hours later. He was next to you in a flash to help you sit up in bed, fluffing the pillows you had flattened in your slumber. He leaned over your side table to grab a small glass jar with oddly colored liquid sloshing inside.

"Medicine," he explained, taking the cap off and holding the jar out to you. You took it gratefully, chugging the contents. The bitter concoction was unpleasant on your tongue but you knew it would do you good so you didn't complain. You sat in silence for a bit after that, watching birds flit around outside your window, Levi having opened the curtains some to let in natural light. You tried to see what he was doing but his back was turned toward you. All of a sudden, the bright smell of citrus assaulted the one nostril of yours that had temporarily cleared up.

"Am I going crazy or do I smell an orange?" you asked. You were presented with a handkerchief filled with meticulously peeled orange segments, each looking as tantalizing as you'd ever seen.

"I never guessed fruit was going to be the tipping point of you questioning your sanity."

"Making fun of the sick isn't a good look," you grumbled, chewing up the juicy snack as Levi swallowed the chuckle about to escape his throat.

"Eat as much as you can tolerate. It helps your body fight the illness."

You hummed in agreement and the captain went back to filling out his never ending work papers.

"Hey, uh... Levi? Can I ask you something real quick?" You broke the comfortable silence but thankfully Levi didn't seem bothered.

"Sure."

"I'm beyond appreciative for all of your help today and I'm really grateful that you've been here with me... but... " You faltered.

He raised an unenthused eyebrow. "But what?"

"Why?"

When he didn't answer right away, you tried to do some damage control in between your sneezing and coughing.

"I just meant, I know you're always helping where you can and I've seen you bring tea and food to our comrades when they're sick, but I've never known you to be this attentive, or-or nice, as you've been to me and--"

"I like you the best."

His simple reply was astonishingly profound for such generic words. If anyone else had said it, you would still be happy, but for Levi to be as vulnerable as that, you knew you truly meant a lot to the man. You were aware that it certainly wasn't easy for him to admit anything about the matters of his heart and you were considering just how lucky of a person you were to hear any kind of confession from him, let alone such a personal one. However, as you looked at him, there wasn't a hint of stress or uncertainty present whatsoever like you thought there might've been. He spoke of his feelings for you as if they were plain, obvious facts like grass is green or the sky is blue.

"That's good to hear because you were always my favorite, too," you told him, a knowing smile blossoming as your hand slid over the blanket in his direction like you were the arrow in a compass and he was north. Levi understood the deeper intent of your words, the underlying meanings that matched his own. The unbreakable bond you two forged over countless years working and fighting together was something he had cherished for a long time and he was relieved to know you came to the same conclusion he had--you were going to be by each others' side for the rest of time. There was something about you that brought out his most loving, doting side, and though the softer facets of life were foreign to him, he wasn't necessarily against exploring them with you in the future, especially if he and the rest of the Scouts eradicated the titans and established a world free of that ever present danger. With you being as sick as you currently were, though, he didn't want to somehow take any sort of advantage of the situation since he knew some people latched onto their caretakers while in the throes of a fever, desperate for any sort of human contact to ground them. That's why he resisted the call of your warm skin, beckoning him to experience what it felt like to be under your touch, instead opting to rest his hand on the bed near your leg in an attempt to show that he was still there for you. He was content being with you in the same capacity as he previously was--except now, the promise of a care free life with you was another addition to the long list of reasons to fight so aggressively for a better tomorrow.

"I'll look after you until you're healthy. Someone has to make sure you're not infecting the rest of the soldiers with your piss poor cough covering technique."

"Can I request a different nurse? Your bedside manner is leaving much to be desired."

Levi handed you another snack, this time being a big chunk of bread.

"At least you didn't have the stomach flu. I wasn't in the mood to clean up your actual shit."

"Levi, please, I'm trying to eat."

He felt the slight tug of his mouth go upwards into an imperceptible grin. If this was a glimpse into what a future alongside you would be like, he'd do anything to keep you both alive long enough to see it, no matter if his foe was a titan or a viral infection.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader fluff #levi fluff #levi x reader #captain levi #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi ackerman x sick reader #levi x sick reader

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literaryvein-reblogs · 9 days ago

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Writing Notes: Food Allergies

Food allergies - the body’s abnormal response to specific proteins found in food. These proteins normally are harmless but cause a reaction in some people. They can occur when food is either eaten or touched.

Many people use the term ‘‘food allergy’’ to describe what is actually a food intolerance.

A food intolerance is a reaction to food that does not involve the immune system.

Lactose intolerance is a common food intolerance, while celiac disease is a food allergy.

Eight foods cause 90% of all food allergies. These are:

milk

eggs

peanuts

tree nuts (walnuts, cashews, pecans, almonds, etc.)

fish

shellfish

soy

wheat

When the body encounters an allergen, it releases large amounts of histamine.

The release of this chemical is responsible for allergic symptoms.

Symptoms of food allergy can range from mildly annoying to dangerous and life threatening.

These symptoms include:

tingling of the mouth

tingling or numbness in arms or legs

skin rash or hives

itching

abdominal cramps

vomiting

diarrhea

breathing difficulties

sudden drop in blood pressure (hypotension)

swelling of the tongue

swelling of the face and throat

loss of consciousness

death

The most serious symptom of food allergy is anaphylaxis.

Anaphylaxis, also called anaphylactic shock, is a sudden and potentially life threatening allergic reaction in which the whole body reacts to an allergen.

During anaphylaxis, the airway constricts, making breathing difficult.

Swelling of the throat may block airways as well.

Vomiting and diarrhea may occur.

The face may swell and the skin may become itchy with a rash or hives.

The heart may race and the heartbeat may become irregular.

Treatment for an allergic reaction is administration of an antihistamine drug.

The most common antihistamine is diphenhydramine hydrochloride; found in over-the-counter drugs, such as Benadryl, and in some prescription drugs.

If taken immediately, antihistamines can stop or moderate an allergic reaction.

In cases of a severe allergy or anaphylaxis:

an injection of a strong antihistamine called epinephrine (also known as adrenaline) may be used.

An auto-injectable form of epinephrine (Epi-Pen) that looks similar to a large ballpoint pen can be carried at all times if a person has a history of severe allergy.

If a severe allergic reaction occurs, the auto-injector is held against the skin and the medication is self-administered as a shot.

Epinephrine is a strong antihistamine; it often can stop anaphylaxis symptoms.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Realistic Injuries ⚜ On Allergy

#writing reference #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #literature #writing inspiration #writing notes #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #writing ideas #creative writing #fiction #medicine #food #allergy #pierre-auguste renoir #writing resources

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russelliv · 23 days ago

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gewis + charlos hanahaki disease au

[content warning: mentions of blood, vomiting]

It started with an itch he can't quite clear his throat from.

George thought it was just his annual pneumonia symptoms. God knows he's had those terrible, body-racking coughs seemingly always near the end of the season.

So of course, George concluded that was that and took his previously prescribed antibiotics from Aleix's med kit.

What it actually is, though, is far from the truth.

George is experiencing the weirdest pain in his life, with his lungs expanding but not getting enough air, with his roaring heartbeat over his ears but not causing it at all, and his whole being suddenly aches with longing.

He crumples over the back of his motorhome, knees digging on damp grass, with heaving breaths and aborted coughing. He absolutely hates throwing up, especially the build-up to it, but at least he's not going to do it inside where the stench can stick.

George swallows, trying to control his breathing and heartbeat back to normal when suddenly, a cough starting deep from his lungs takes control.

He quickly covers his mouth with both of his hands, coughing into it as he wheezes through breaths. Once the coughing stopped, he sighs in relief and quickly wipes at his mouth...seeing red.

George stares in horror, with cold sweat trickling its way down the back of his neck, at his bloody hands and three different colored petals: a bright magenta Brazillian corsage orchid, a beautiful golden Brazillian trumpet tree, and a haunting black English rose.

————

Carlos knows it's his.

Spending every minute of the day with someone throughout the year, attatched at the hip for almost 5 years...it's impossible not to get attatched.

Yes, maybe he got too attatched, but what can you expect with his too soft heart—the one that his papá strongly taught him to suppress—and mesmerizing verdant green eyes, whose owner gave him life amidst the constant pressure and disappointment among the rosso corsa?

Ironically, the rosso corsa that he associates with failure is also the color of his love. Petals of blazing red Italian poppies, bold yellow Spanish brooms and intense red Monégasque carnations living within him, taking up space in his lungs without care just as the thief of his heart did in his life.

Carlos has had it in him long enough to know love's symptoms—and knows he's the only one in the paddock experiencing it—so why the fuck is he staring at George Russell at the rear end of his motorhome, hunched over with three colorful petals and blood on his hands?

"Mierda."

#OHH i am so excited for this you guys don't even know #will be posting as soon as i finish writing it :DD #this is very new to me esp writing 2 new voices of a new ship #i hope you guys enjoy this teaser <333 #gewis #gr63 #lh44 #charlos #c square #c2 #cl16 #cs55 #russelliv wip #russelliv fic

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crj-200 · 3 days ago

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PSA for anyone tending aircraft!!!!!!!

The FDA, CDC, and FAA have identified a HUGE uptick in cases of PS in Boeing planes over the past 3 months, with 737s being the most vulnerable to critical symptoms and autoimmune complications after infection.

For those who don't know, PS (Pteroium saprosis, also known as Boeing's Flap, Wing Rot, or Aileron Disease) is an autoimmune condition that can develop as a result of a fungal infection of the plane's dermal layer of skin, caused by the Sapromyces fungus native to North America. The condition causes the dermis to weaken and die, which in turn leads to chunks of tissue rotting and falling off of the wing, further infections, and potential death. This condition is not curable and can be very quickly fatal when not managed properly. Currently, the best we can do to treat this is to replace components as they decay. [X]

While most aircraft will experience very few (if any) symptoms of infection if caught early, aircraft that do not receive treatment or become highly symptomatic regardless of treatment are at extreme risk of developing the condition. Extreme risk meaning 93 out of 100 highly symptomatic planes will get PS.

There is no commercial vaccine currently available. Right now the University of Washington's AiRR (Aerozoology in Research and Rehabilitation) Zoo is in the process of developing one that looks promising, but it won't be available to the public until at least 2032. If you want to support the AiRR Zoo's research you can donate here.

How can you limit exposure and keep your plane safe?

Test your aircraft DAILY.

If a positive case is found, the infected aircraft must be immediately quarantined and be seen by a medical/mechanical professional within 24 hours of the first positive test. Outside of this window, it's 3x more likely your aircraft will develop the disorder. [X]

Clean bedding every other day at MINIMUM.

The fungal spores that cause Boeing's Flap thrive in areas that attract dampness, dust, and waste, making your aircraft's hangar bedding an ideal place for it to spread. Replacing or cleaning their bedding every two days drastically cuts down the amount of fungi in the hangar at any time. The International Civil Aerozoology Committee identified this as a "best practice" when handling sick and recovering aircraft in any setting. [X]

Watch what goes in their mouth.

The top way aircraft get exposed to the fungi is from chewing on fallen tree limbs and shedded car parts. If you see ANYTHING in their mouth while they're outside, TAKE IT OUT. I know a lot of aircraft like to gnaw and will get upset by this, but this could ultimately save their life.

Bring your aircraft with you.

If you're able, keep your aircraft near you at all times to monitor what they're getting into. Check if your employer has an ACI/WO (AirCraft In/Worker Out) policy that provides either a plane-friendly workplace for you to bring your aircraft to work for health monitoring, or allows you to work and monitor your aircraft from home. Not every employer will have this, unfortunately. You are able to use AMLA (AeroMedical Leave) to care for sick aircraft, but a lot of requirements need to be met: the type/infectiousness/severity of illness, living within 30 miles of a commercial airport, and your status as their legal owner. Note that this doesn't apply for preventative care, just the care and maintenance of already sick aircraft.

ANYWAYS I know this post got super long but PLEASE spread this so more people are aware. Any aircraft lost to PS is too many, and if this spreads to working planes the results could be catastrophic. Keep your critters safe guys <3

#unreality #aircraft husbandry #planes #this is for something i'm doing don't mind me

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afeelgoodblog · 2 years ago

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The Best News of Last Week

⚡ - Charging Towards a More Electrifying Future

1. The Kissimmee River has been brought back to life—and wildlife is thriving

The Kissimmee River in Florida was straightened in the 1960s, causing a sharp decline in wildlife and ecological problems. But in the 1990s, a $1 billion restoration project was initiated to restore the river's natural state.

Today, nearly half of the river has been restored, wetlands have been reestablished and rehydrated, and wildlife has returned, including rare and threatened species. Already the biological impact of the project has become clear. As the wetlands have come back, so have the birds.

2. Plastic wrap made from seaweed withstands heat and is compostable

A cling film made from an invasive seaweed can withstand high temperatures yet is still easily compostable. The material could eventually become a sustainable choice for food packaging.

Scientists started with a brown seaweed called sargassum. Sargassum contains long, chain-like molecules similar to those that make up conventional plastic, which made it a good raw material. The researchers mixed it with some acids and salts to get a solution full of these molecules, then blended in chemicals that thickened it and made it more flexible and pliable.

3. An Eagle Who Adopted a Rock Becomes a Real Dad to Orphaned Eaglet

Murphy, a bald eagle that had been showing fatherly instincts, has been sharing an enclosure with an eaglet that survived a fall from a tree during a storm in Ste. Genevieve. Murphy, his rock gone by then, took his role as foster parent seriously. He soon began responding to the chick’s peeps, and protecting it.

And when, as a test, the keepers placed two plates of food in front of the birds — one containing food cut into pieces that the chick could eat by itself, and another with a whole fish that only Murphy could handle — the older bird tore up the fish and fed it to the eaglet.

4. World's largest battery maker announces major breakthrough in energy density

In one of the most significant battery breakthroughs in recent years, the world’s largest battery manufacturer CATL has announced a new “condensed” battery with 500 Wh/kg which it says will go into mass production this year.

“The launch of condensed batteries will usher in an era of universal electrification of sea, land and air transportation, open up more possibilities of the development of the industry, and promote the achieving of the global carbon neutrality goals at an earlier date,” the company said in a presentation at Auto Shanghai on Thursday.

This could be huge. Electric jets and cargo ships become very possible at this point.

5. Cat with '100% fatal' feline coronavirus saved by human Covid-19 medicine

A beloved household cat has made an “astonishing” recovery from a usually fatal illness, thanks to a drug made to treat Covid-19 in humans – and a quick-thinking vet.

Anya, the 7-year-old birman cat, was suffering from feline infectious peritonitis (FIP), a “100% fatal” viral infection caused by feline coronavirus. That was, until Auckland vet Dr Habin Choi intervened, giving Anya an antiviral used to treat Covid-19 called molnupiravir.

6. Kelp forests capture nearly 5 million tonnes of CO2 annually

Kelp forests provide an estimated value of $500 billion to the world and capture 4.5 million tonnes of carbon dioxide from seawater each year. Most of kelp’s economic benefits come from creating habitat for fish and by sequestering nitrogen and phosphorus.

7. Medical Marijuana Improved Parkinson’s Disease Symptoms in 87% of Patients

Medical cannabis (MC) has recently garnered interest as a potential treatment for neurologic diseases, including Parkinson's disease (PD). 87% of patients were noted to exhibit an improvement in any PD symptom after starting medical cannabis. Symptoms with the highest incidence of improvement included cramping/dystonia, pain, spasticity, lack of appetite, dyskinesia, and tremor.

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog

#best news of last week

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echo-bleu · 11 months ago

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Psst what if Caranthir’s “red face” is from a lupus butterfly rash?

HELL YES anon I see your vision

Disabled Tolkien characters series

Assorted headcanons under the cut:

Elves, especially in the Years of the Trees where their conception of disability is... nearly non-existent (I have loads of headcanons about that and I'm writing a whole fic) don't really know about the immune system and autoimmune diseases.

Caranthir starts having symptoms very early in childhood, at first mostly anaemia and some joint pain, and skin issues. His butterfly rash is near-constant, though much worse during flares. Nobody flags this as a single issue, especially since he's also having other troubles (he's autistic, and he has pretty severe IBS-like symptoms).

Celegorm (starting to show symptoms of EDS, which they do know of because Míriel had it first) and Curufin (much more visibly/loudly autistic) are both a good deal more worrying to Fëanor and Nerdanel at that point, so Caranthir's issues tend to be, if not swept under the rug, at least not truly addressed. The parents are doing their best, but raising seven children is a lot, and Caranthir unfortunately gets all the Middle Child Syndrome.

(though in the Shibboleth, it's mentioned that Nerdanel named him Carnistir because he "had the ruddy complexion of his mother." Nerdanel with lupus, anyone?)

Once he's an adult, the symptom that bothers him the most is joint pain in his hands. His craft and his interests are in books, both writing them (he's a historian and economist) and bookbinding. He needs his hands.

Caranthir and Celegorm, because of their otherwise rocky relationship, swing wildly between curling up together for comfort and warmth during flares and shouting at each other because pain makes them both extremely bad-tempered.

The facial rash/lesions remains Caranthir's most visible symptom, and in a society where everyone is beautiful (especially his family), it's not an easy burden. Someone else made a wonderful post about this that I'll just link, rather than paraphrase.

#caranthir #carnistir #morifinwe #silmarillion #silm #the silmarillion #tolkien #silm art #tolkien fanart #echo's drawings #disabled tolkien characters #disabled characters #lupus #somehow he ended looking more like my fëanor than curufin #which is not ideal #but hey #i like him #feanorians

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fairysluna · 2 years ago

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Hello, I just stumbled into your old account and read and LOVED one of your Aegon fanfics (What Should've Been) and I have a teeny tiny request, if you don't mind. It seems the reader had tuberculosis from the symptoms, especially the bloody coughs, and since Aegon was thoroughly exposed to it, I was wondering if you can maybe make a teeny tiny follow-up about how he also contracts the disease and dies and later joins the reader in the afterlife under the same weirwood tree where she's waiting for him in her wedding gown and Aegon goes to her and tucks a purple pansy in her ear and they walk off into the light, together at last.

Please, I'm terribly heartbroken (and depressed but that's just my usual depression) over this beautiful story and I'd love a follow-up, even if it's just bullet points of what happens 🥺🥺

Author's Note: Hi hun!! I love the fact that you love my story enough to come here and ask me to write more, I will always love to make a follow up of my fics... so this is entirely dedicated to you, love!! thank you for enjoying my writing (and srry for breaking your heart). These are bullet points btw and it is quite short, but i hope you like it!!🤍

WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN — Aegon's Grief.

Summary: The aftermath of the biggest loss in Aegon's life: you. An epilogue for this story.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Arryn!Reader

Tags/TW: angst, grief, death, mentions of depression, sickness, sensitive content. If something is missing pls let me know.

Aegon didn’t leave his bed for days. The grief and sorrow in his heart was too much for him to bear. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t bathe, he wouldn’t even stand from his bed… the bed he used to share with you.

It was hard for him to go inside the room, the weeks before your funeral he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the door of it. Needless to say, he didn’t even step inside of it until the funeral was over. The sheets were still there, the shape of your body was still seen on the bed. He did not allow the maids to clean up the room; he could smell the scent of death that was left behind, but once he went closer to the bed he was able to smell your perfume… and that was enough for him to bury his face against the pillows as he sobbed and whined.

Alicent tried to go and persuade him to go back to his duties. He had become a King, but what kind of King he was if he didn't have his Queen by his side? What purpose was left for him when the most important person in the world was now gone? The forces of your love had left him without warming, the warmth of your love no longer covered his body in the shape of an affectionate kiss. He felt useless without you, for you were the only thing that brought meaning into his life.

Aemond would start to cover him up in the Small Council meetings and other duties. Aegon was in no condition to fulfill his activities, because not only his spirit was broken but his health was deteriorating with each passing day. The health of their King was starting to cause rumors around the halls, servants claimed that he went mad out of his own grief.

His chubby shape soon became a skeletal one. His rosy cheeks were now pale and bony, his cheekbones being too noticeable now. Alicent would go at night trying to make him eat something, but Aegon had lost his will to live the day he lost you. And eventually, the Gods were merciful enough… and they made him sick too.

Alicent knew what was coming, she had witnessed the same symptoms in you a few weeks ago before you took your last breath. She cried herself to sleep many nights as the Maester would only inform her that her son was slowly dying, with no signs of improvement at all. And then, the hallucinations started as Aegon was being slowly killed by the fever.

His already weakened body could not handle that sickness that came upon him. The lack of food, of sleep, along with his lack of will to live were enough to get him seriously ill, to the point when he started to speak to the maids thinking they were you.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he would say with a thin voice, barely audible. Most of his wording would be interpreted as mumbling and nonsense, "can't wait to see our beautiful child growing inside of you."

A few days later… Aegon passed away in the same bed that he used to share with you, grasping the same sheets that covered your body during your last days, and in the same bed where he held you close every night. And even though that was the day his body died, his soul had left him the same day you left him.

Alicent cried for days after the news, but she wasn't surprised at all. No one was. The love Aegon had for you was too obvious for everyone.

"Not even death could pull them apart," Aemond would say as he consoled his mother during the funeral, where Sunfyre was the one lighting the fire that ended up consuming his skeletal body.

Aegon thought he was dreaming when he found himself standing in the gardens, wearing a black suit but feeling light, the anguish that had haunted him for the past weeks was no longer there.

And then, he heard your laugh.

A small giggle that made him feel as if his heart was beating again. A sound so soft and gentle, delicate and blissful, that it brought a rose color upon his cheeks, which returned to be as chubby as they were before.

At first, he was afraid of turning around, thinking that it was a delusion, some trick of his mind making him hear things. But then, he heard it again, and the urge to look at your beautiful face once again was stronger than any fear that might succumb him. He needed to see you… and he did.

There you were, as beautiful as you have always been, wearing a tighter and less pompous version of your wedding gown. Your hair was falling down your shoulders in cascades, your eyes gleaming with pure happiness as you laughed at the pages you were reading. Aegon was enchanted, mesmerized by the angelic sound your laughter would produce.

He walked slowly towards you, as if he was scared you would become a pile of dust and fade into the wind, but you never did. Instead, you looked up at him and your eyes shined so bright that Aegon was sure he saw stars in them. You were so gorgeous, far from being the sick woman he saw before you passed. You were your old self, the woman who would make him laugh and make him fall in love all over again every single day.

"You came," you said with a radiant smile.

"You know I've never done well without you, my love," he replied.

You saw him picking up a flower from the greenest grass he's ever seen; a purple pansy soon was on your hair, and Aegon's heart felt alive once he felt your lips against the softness of his flushed cheeks. A gesture that he had terribly missed.

Aegon cupped your face between his hands, and looked down to you with admiration and pure devotion. Your eyes were full of life once again; a sight that Aegon wished to never forget again. Before you could say anything to him, he kissed you, and your lips felt warm and soft as they always were. Your touch made him feel like a teenage boy, the same boy that fell in love with you many years ago.

He realized then that he finally found heaven, that all his wishes and pleas were listened to by the Gods by sending him back to you; back to where he belonged.

Aegon saw your eyes once again, and right there he realized that the Gods were finally merciful, because now he got to spend the rest of his life by your side without having the constant fear of losing you again.

He finally found peace, because you were there with him.

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