#then one day he stopped coming. it was cold and flu season so I thought he was sick

[mint-mumbles]

But…

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Never forget, you are loved 🩷

[lexosaurus]

stained teeth leave the aftertaste of rot (part 1)

Here is my fic for @ecto-implosion! I was soooo pumped to get an art from @antleredweirdo which you can see [right here] (plz look at it cuz im VERY normal about this art piece)

Thank you so much to @lexiepiper and @ghostlyglimmer for betaing!

Characters: Danny Fenton Tags/warnings: minor character death, gore, ghost hunger Summary: Danny was just sick. It was probably some sort of ghost flu that was making his body heavy, his stomach hollow, and his eyes burn with fatigue. There was no way he was—no, he wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't. In the darkest corner of the room, something shifted.

[read on ao3]

[part 2] [part 3]

****

Danny sat behind his desk, staring listlessly out the window with heavy, half-lidded eyes. Sun beamed down from the cloudless sky, deceptively bright against the fresh spring air. The weather would warm soon, and birds would return from their winter flight to chirp from their tiny branches, but not yet. Not this early into the season.

He tapped his finger against his chin out of time with the droning rhythm of Mr. Lancer’s lecture, the motion about all he could muster to stay awake. His elbow supported his sagging body, nearly numb from the pressure of the desk. But he couldn't find it in him to care.

When he blinked, his eyes burned with sleep. They protested when he opened them, and really, it was so tempting to let his fatigue win. All he wanted was to let his head collapse on his desk, fold his arms into a soft pillow, and rest.

But he'd promised his parents he would try to do better in school this semester. Last fall had been more than a disaster, and if he repeated that again, he would have to do credit recovery over the summer. The last thing Danny wanted—or any teen for that matter—was to do more school over the summer.

So, he forced his head to turn to face the teacher and fought each lagging, burning blink as he pretended to at least appear like he was paying attention.

Even if behind him, his friends knew that he would be copying their notes later.

It wasn't his fault he was so tired. He was probably coming down with something. He didn't think he could get human illnesses, but that must have been what was happening because there was simply no other way to explain this sort of weakness that ached deep in his bones. How despite sleeping well the past week, each day his body felt more drained than the last.

Finally, finally, the bell rang. He stuffed his unopened notebook in his bag, nearly forgetting to zip it up before he tossed it over his shoulder, and dragged his useless body and feet forward, red shoes plodding one step in front of the other as he made his way to the door.

"Man, what a drag," Tucker said, falling in step beside him.

Danny had almost forgotten that Tucker was in that class too.

"I thought Lancer was gonna go on yapping forever." Tucker nudged him with his elbow. "Thought you were gonna nap at least five times, too. Seriously, you good? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"Yeah, fine," Danny said on reflex, then grimaced, amending with, "Kind of tired, actually."

"How many times have I told you to call us if the ghosts won't let up? We're your backup, dude!"

Danny stopped before his locker, phasing his hand through his lock and popping it open. Last fall, this sort of small, public usage of his powers would have been unthinkable. But he'd long since realized that one of the benefits of being invisible in the social hierarchy of school was, well, that he was invisible.

"It wasn't even a ghost this time. I think I'm just getting a cold."

Tucker leaned against a scratched red locker, folding his arms and pulling out his brick-like phone. One of those cases that doubled as an external battery, he'd said. To Danny, it just looked like one of Skulker's projectiles.

"You can get colds?" Tucker scrolled through what Danny could only assume was one of the many encrypted files he'd stolen from Vlad on halfa biology.

"Well, I don't know what else to call this."

"I do." Tucker clicked his phone off. "It's called wearing yourself out! Honestly, Danny, call us every once in a while."

Well, Danny couldn't exactly blame Tucker for not believing him about the ghosts actually letting him sleep for once. He tried rubbing the weariness from his eyes and grumbled, "Fine."

"I mean, seriously. I get that we can't fly or anything, but Sam and I are great with a gun. You know this."

"Yeah, I know."

"What are we mad at Danny about?" A voice piped up behind him.

Danny slammed his locker shut. "Nothing!"

"The usual," Tucker answered.

"Oh." Sam popped out beside him, slugging her ratty purple spider bag over a cropped black band hoodie. She tilted her head, and black hair fell onto her shoulders. "You didn't call us for backup again? Seriously?"

"No!"

Tucker ignored him, pushing himself off the locker to tap Sam's shoulder. "And get this! This idiot tried to tell me he's getting a cold."

"That's a bad lie, even for you."

"I'm not lying! I didn't fight a single ghost last night!" His protest was slightly louder than he'd intended it to be, and he could see the awkward glances from his classmates beside him, their judgment so loud he could almost hear them thinking about what a lame weirdo he was.

Ancients, this was really not a good day.

He lowered his voice. "Seriously, guys, I'm just tired. That's all. I've been feeling this way all week."

Sam and Tucker exchanged an agonizingly long glance.

"Really," he insisted.

Then, surprisingly, Sam was the first to break the silent exchange, rolling her eyes to look over at Danny. "Okay, fine. But seriously, if you have another busy night, then call us, okay? That's what we're here for."

"Sure."

"Now, come on!" Sam spun on her heel and began walking down the hall. "If we don't get to gym on time, Tetslaff is gonna make us run laps again!"

"Right behind you!" Tucker yelled, following after her.

Danny watched them from behind, his feet too heavy to try to play catch-up. There had been a blissful minute at his locker where he'd forgotten he had gym next. But, of course, that fantasy couldn't last forever, and now it was time for Dash and his cronies to pelt dodgeballs at him, or whatever other misery they'd think of.

Great, amazing. Just what the doctor ordered.

Part of him almost wished a ghost would appear out of thin air just so he'd have an excuse to skip. But, of course, the universe loved working against him.

Students passed by him in a blur, their voices twisting and swaying into a kaleidoscope of sound that evolved with each thundering footstep, each turn around the corner of another hall. His stomach panged. Not with hunger, or really with pain, but...something else. Something he couldn't quite place.

Maybe he was getting a ghostly illness? He hadn't ever heard of such a thing before, but it wasn't as though he had a plethora of ghost friends to ask questions to. Vlad certainly would never give him a heads-up about anything that would deter Danny from needing to grovel at his feet about later. 

But he did feel weird. And considering his baseline levels were already what a doctor might call both "weird" and "extremely concerning—Mrs. Fenton, how is your son even alive—" this was very likely to be something ghostly in nature. Maybe an ecto-flu.

Hopefully.

****

"Oh yeah, and why not?" The ghost sneered, his gray skin crinkling around acid-green eyes.

"Because!" Danny threw his hands up. "I've told you! You can't just start terrorizing people every time Kitty gets mad at you!"

Johnny 13 rolled his eyes in a cartoonishly exaggerated manner as if making sure Danny wouldn't miss it.

"I'm being serious. You know this."

"Yeah, yeah." Johnny folded his arms against the handlebars of his bike and leaned forward. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do? She left me, man. And she sounded really serious this time! I can't just let some punk take my girl!"

She wasn't being serious this time, Danny knew. Ghosts were nothing if not creatures of habit. Which meant, unfortunately, they were going to be having this fight and conversation again in another month.

That also meant that Danny had answered this question so many times before, he all but had a scripted response. "Maybe start by apologizing to her?"

"I can't just apologize to her for taking care of my bike! Kitty always wants to go on rides when my bike needs a bit of attention. Don't get me wrong, I love Kitty, but I love my bike too, and I godda make sure that girl is all taken care of so that Kitty and I can go on our rides across the Realms."

"Maybe, then, you can start by not calling your bike a girl."

"No way! I'm not riding a dude."

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. Ancients, this was why he needed to stick to the script. "Well, I don't know, man. Just apologize to her anyway. You know Kitty! That's really all she wants."

Johnny 13 muttered under his breath, shifting his weight on his bike. Shadow appeared from under him—a little smaller than before, now that Danny had worn him out from the fight—and began curling up his legs and around his waist. He didn't speak, and Danny wasn't really sure if he could, but somehow, Johnny always seemed to know what he was saying anyway.

"Yeah, that really hurt by the way."

It took Danny a second to realize that Johnny was talking to him.

"You nailed my back with your stupid ice spikes."

"Well, you started terrorizing the public!" Danny shot back.

"Yeah, but I didn't try to stab anyone. Unlike you, Mr. Hero Shtick over there."

"Unleashing Shadow on a group of middle schoolers almost counts as the same thing."

Johnny raised a brow at him. "Middle schoolers? They can take it."

"Whatever!" Danny snapped. It was useless to try to argue with Johnny about what constituted a public nuisance anyway. "I didn't even hit you that hard."

"Yeah, you did." Johnny swiped a hand behind his shoulder and hissed. "Ugh—I'm fucking bleeding! You got through the leather and everything, asshole!"

Shadow made a throaty, warbling sound from beside him.

"Yeah, I know!" Johnny nodded furiously, apparently agreeing.

Shadow warbled again, and Johnny laughed sardonically in return.

Danny sighed, not knowing nor caring about whatever insult Shadow had just slung at him. He floated closer to Johnny, his tail lazily flicking under him. "Come on, let me see that."

"No way!" Johnny leaned away from Danny's outstretched arm.

They'd played this song and dance too many times before for Danny to back down now. "If you let me patch you up and go to the portal willingly, I won't suck you into the thermos. Then you'll have all day to find Kitty—who's probably in Ember's lair—and you can apologize to her and she'll instantly forgive you and then you two can go ride on your bikes into the sunset like every cheesy movie from the seventies. Doesn't that sound great?"

Johnny frowned, his blonde brows pinching together, and eyed Danny suspiciously.

But Danny meant it. He truly did. More than anything, he just wanted Johnny 13 and Shadow to go back to the Zone.

It was another win for Danny. He swooped behind Johnny and prepped some ecto-ice under his skin. He’d discovered that not only did the frost act as an adhesive to stop minor bleeding, but that other ghosts could slowly absorb the ecto-energy to speed up their own healing processes.

But then, he caught sight of Johnny's shoulder.

And froze.

It wasn't that it was a horrendous, gruesome mess that had Danny wondering how Johnny was still standing. In fact, there was hardly anything there at all compared to what Danny was used to seeing on himself. The leather had torn where an ice spike had hit him, and a small trickle of ectoplasm was leaking through.

But despite having seen the slow trickle of ectoplasm from scrapes and gashes a hundred times before, Danny still lurched back.

Because something was wrong.

The ectoplasm didn't look like ectoplasm anymore. It sparkled like a jewel and glittered like a mound of sugary syrup. It wasn't just ectoplasm, it looked...

It looked...

"Kid?" Johnny's voice snapped him out of his head.

Danny started, flushing as he realized in embarrassment, he'd begun to flair his aura.

Jesus, what the hell was that about? Maybe he really was under some sort of ghost cold or something.

"Sorry," he managed to say, averting his gaze and reaching out his cringing arm to Johnny's shoulder.

Something dark flickered at the edge of his vision. It must have been his imagination, though, because when his paranoid eyes snapped over to it, nothing was there.

"You don't have to fight the fucking ectoplasm back into my body, you know."

"I know," Danny grumbled. He felt like some toddler ghost who couldn't control its urge to establish dominance. "Sorry, I think I'm getting sick or something."

"Sure you are, kid."

Somehow, he managed to touch the wound—just barely—where he wasted not even a nanosecond before his ecto-ice was on his fingertips, coating Johnny's skin in a frost that would have given frostbite to a normal human, but to a ghost, was little more than putting a cool bandage over the wound.

"Thanks." Johnny 13 leaned away, rolling his neck.

"Don't mess it up."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill."

Oh no, did they have a drill?

Danny tried to avoid looking at the lingering ectoplasm on Johnny's back. "Okay, you're all good now so just go to Kitty, please? Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

"Sure thing, ghost brat!" Then, Johnny's expression shifted so quickly that Danny almost wondered if they were about to start brawling again. "By the way, you seriously need to recharge."

Now it was Danny's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, jeez, recharging? I never thought of that!" He directed some ectoplasm into his eyes to make them glow brighter, snapping, "When the hell is a guy supposed to sleep when you all keep coming into Amity?"

"No, not that kind of—ah, forget it." Johnny waved him off. "You'll figure it out soon enough, anyway. Either that, or I won't have to worry about you anymore. Which, not that I'm wishing for your demise, but having you out of my way would be kinda nice."

"Not happening."

They stared at each other. Johnny, with his bemused expression, and Danny, with arms crossed and aura glistening in warning. Around the corner, sounds of children, blissfully unaware of the two ghosts in the alley, laughed as they played in the small park.

Yeah, like hell was Danny ever going to let these morons cause mayhem and disrupt innocent lives like that.

Johnny 13 was the first to break it, shrugging in that lazy way that Danny hated so much. "Well, have fun with your illness then. See ya!"

The motorcycle revving was never not obnoxious. A cloud of green ecto-smoke pillowed around them, following Johnny as he disappeared in the direction of Fentonworks.

Danny didn't follow him. Partly because he knew Johnny wasn't stupid enough to stick around. But also partly because his feet had frozen to the ground. The green motorcycle smoke was surrounding him, and he couldn't move. He didn't want to move.

It was simply too intoxicating.

When the smoke cleared and he couldn't feel any traces of ecto-activity around him, Danny finally let out a long, slow breath, his muscles releasing as he did. At his sides, his hands trembled.

But why?

That interaction was one he'd had a dozen times before. Why was he so rattled now?

What the hell had happened to him?

He must have been missing something, because when he replayed the events in his head, for a moment there, Johnny's ectoplasm...it had looked...he'd wanted to...

No.

No.

That wasn't right. No. He was misremembering it. He was sick. No. Something was off. He wasn't thinking clearly. He was a good person, he wasn't some freak who would—no, that was sick. He was just being paranoid.

He clenched his hands into fists, tucking them under his elbows and hugging his torso because he just needed to calm down. He just wasn't feeling right. He was tired.

His stomach felt empty. He must have been hungry too. Yeah, that must have been it.

But...he didn't feel hungry. Or, did he?

His body was too out of whack right now.

He needed to go home. Sleep. Yeah, that sounded good.

Sleep always had a way of fixing everything.

****

Danny lay in his bed, his stomach hollow despite the fact that he’d just eaten dinner. When he stared at the ceiling, a slight green glow reflected in the air above him.

Odd. His eyes normally never glowed in his human form unless he was upset or angry.

In the corners of the room, the shadows shifted.

He was afraid to look.

The tips of his fingers tingled.

Something was happening to him. Something that every time he tried to think about it, his brain slammed the gates shut.

So he didn't think. He kept clenching his fists. He refused to look at the shadows. He didn't acknowledge the emptiness in his stomach. He stared up, gazing past the green air to the glow-in-the-dark constellations on his ceiling. He breathed.

And breathed.

Up, down. Rest. Up, down. Rest.

For some reason, it was enough to distract him.

Perhaps, that was because breathing was human.

****

part 2 >

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

For the emoji ask! absolutely LOVE your writing

🎲-dealer's choice +🩹 and ✏️ - maybe 🎲 comes down with a bad cold/flu and, with no real idea how or desire to take care of themselves, needs someone to remind them that they're worth taking care of?

We All Fall Down - Bob Taylor/Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, Bob needs a lot of help.

Wordcount: 6356

Summary: You knew everything about your neighbour, or so you thought, apart from his name, but when you end up the only one willing to help him when he falls under the weather, you might just get your chance to finally learn it.

Notes: My first Bob reader! This request was actually perfect because I'd been wanting to write this exact scenario for him for months, so this was the perfect excuse to bump up this idea from my personal list to my queue ;w; so thanks! As much as I'd love to just take care of him forever, I get the feeling that he wouldn't be too okay with getting help while he's got a bad fever, so get ready for the hurt before he gets any comfort and I hope you enjoy QwQ 💗💗💗

Summer was giving way to fall outside of your windows, the leaves already starting to change now that September was underway. You loved this time of the year, there was something special about autumn that always made you so content while you curled up on the porch with hot cocoa in your favourite sweater. It was the season of comfort, and you really wished you didn't have to go to work today as you shot your alarm a glance and groaned. You got up fast, the fresh air blowing through your windows urging you to get up and come feel the cooling breeze after such a rough summer all the way, and you didn't stop until you got to your car and saw your estranged neighbour picking up his daily newspaper from the end of the driveway. 

You waved to him as you always did but he didn't return it, his eyes on the ground as he grabbed his paper and headed back inside, and you noticed that he was looking a little rough before the door shut, it opened just enough to allow him entrance yet again. You shrugged and headed for work, your window down and music blaring the whole way there as you breathed in deep. You picked up a morning coffee and sipped at it until you parked, people already waiting to get inside the shopping center like a pack of rabid wolves. You didn't envy the cashiers on mornings like this, your cushy job just stocking shelves allowing you to easily avoid customers' wrath so long as you had more aisles to escape to. 

Today was going to be one of those days again, and you took your sweet time casually unloading your boxes as you traveled back and forth between the storage area and the shelves that were already getting swamped with early fall hunters. They ate up everything that was orange and leafy, the Halloween stuff wouldn't be out for another couple weeks still, so this was their time to get in everything else before that battle began. You caught the eye of your co-worker when two old ladies fought over the cutest wreath in the crafts section, and you both chuckled as you let them be and kept on working.

You were in the kids section redressing the mannequins in sweaters and jeans instead of t-shirts and shorts when you saw him again, and something about him made you pause a little as he perused. He didn't have children, you knew he didn't after being neighbours with him for so many years, but he still hung around the mannequins you'd already dressed with an expression like a father who'd lost his child. You didn't bother him, letting him stare until someone else approached and he anxiously looked over to them and left, and the next time you saw him he was looking amongst the toys until he found a rather cute teddy bear and picked it up. 

Again you didn't bother him, waiting to see if maybe he was getting it for someone or himself, but when a young kid sprinted past him he came back to life and watched him go, his eyes then landing on you. He put the bear back and quickly walked away, and you almost followed him when a younger co-worker walked up to you and made a show of shivering.

‘He's creepy, isn't he?’ she asked even though he might still be within earshot, and you quickly spun to get her to quiet her voice a little. ‘No, really, all he does is look at the kids' stuff and sometimes buy kid clothes, but I've never seen him come in with anyone, isn't that weird?’

‘Maybe he has nephews,’ you dismissed, not wanting to reveal that not only was she right in that he lived alone but that he was also your neighbour; that would get around fast, then they'd be pressing you for information like crazy, and you didn't want that for either of you. ‘Anyway, aren't you supposed to be on register this morning?’

‘Oh yeah, I closed real quick to tell you we need you, it's so busy they're opening up the extras so I'm finding everyone I can to bring to the front until it calms down.’

So much for your cushy shelving job.

You nearly jogged to your station of choice when you saw the lines already stretching out further than they should, the usual call of, ‘I can take whoever's next!’ earning you your own line in seconds flat. You plastered your biggest smile on before starting to ring them up, and by the time the lines thinned again you were sore and so sick of the colour orange. You closed your eyes and cracked your back the moment you got a break when you heard a small noise to your right, and you quickly apologized when you saw that it was him again; he'd found something he wanted, some clothes again just like she'd said, but you didn't say anything about it as you flashed him a more genuine smile and got his total.

‘I take it you didn't want the bear?’ you asked pleasantly, but he was so far away from you mentally that he barely registered your voice with a small, ‘Huh?’ ‘The bear, from earlier, I saw you checking it out, didn't want it in the end?’

‘No, no, sorry I-’ He cut himself off to cough a moment, his eyes scrunched tight as he held his fist in front of his closed mouth so he wouldn't cough all over your station. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight when you remembered that he hadn't looked too good that morning, and now that you were face to face you could definitely see that he was paler than usual; there was a light beading of sweat on his forehead that only worsened with his coughing, the bags under his eyes were pronounced, and the flush on his cheeks wasn't from the social interaction, it was something else as the cough subsided and he hazily looked up at you. ‘Sorry, I'll just pay and… how much…?’ 

He could barely form a sentence he was so sick, and the clothes remained waiting at the end of your station as his legs then gave out and he crumbled to the floor. Everything stopped as heads turned and whispers filled the air, and you sprinted around to him to make sure he was okay and that he hadn't hit his head on the counter behind him. He hadn't, but he'd banged up his knee pretty good on the way down, and his ankle was twisted uncomfortably underneath him, but he didn't notice either as he started coughing again until he couldn't breathe. ‘Should we call an ambulance?’ someone above you asked, and you shook your head and took his temperature.

‘I'll bring him, I know where he lives for after,’ you said without a care, they could ask you all the questions you want later, right now he needed someone to actually give a damn about him. ‘Hey, go grab me some cold medicine from the pharmacy real quick, I'll pay for it later, and that blue bear from the kids aside,’ you told your nearest co-worker as your supervisor showed up, yourself and a kindly patron with long blonde hair and a friendly smile helping to get him on his feet so he could be taken to his car, you already knew it down to the plate number and you didn't want to leave it here while he was home.

‘What's happening?’ your supervisor asked the moment your neighbour was standing, and it was then it hit you that you knew where he lived, what his car looked like, what his plate numbers were, and his usual habits, but you'd never even learned his name. 

‘This man is sick, I'd like to take him to the doctor's, get him checked out, I'll work extra shifts this weekend to make up for it,’ you pleaded, and he looked between all the waiting faces before sighing and getting out of your way, he wouldn't make a scene over you helping a sick man, that'd be bad for business.

‘Fine, be here all the earlier on Saturday if you don't catch what he's got, could we get someone to sanitize this station so this register can be opened back up?’ he called into the crowd, and you and the other man helped carry him all the way to his car while your co-worker rang up everything and followed after you. You quickly located his car and stole his keys so he wouldn't have to walk so far, your neighbour not even noticing when you reached into his coat pocket to find them. 

He leaned against the patron up until you drove up, and he was carefully sat into the front seat beside you with his things set into the back, a wave given to the man and a whisper for your co-worker to make sure you picked up whatever he got as thanks. She nodded and rushed back in and then you were off, your neighbour slowly coming back to lucidity when he saw he was moving.

‘Where are we going?’ he mumbled softly, and you just barely told him you were heading for the hospital when he started to panic. ‘No, no- I wanna go home, please take me home-!’ he pleaded desperately, his hands weakly pawing at the car door even though you were still moving.

‘Okay! Okay, I'll take you home, please just sit still, we're almost there,’ you relented immediately at his panic, but he didn't calm until he saw that you were telling the truth. He was a wreck by the time you pulled into his driveway, his hands on the door again and forcing you to stop early when it flung open before you could even reach the end. He stumbled all the way to his front door, his hands in his pockets and searching for his keys until his panic grew again. 

You ran up behind him with them in hand, and he flinched when he heard you coming like he expected you to hurt him, which only made you feel worse as you handed them over and allowed him to search for the right one; he looked even sicker from the mental strain, and you gave him a moment to calm down and unlock his door while you grabbed the bag from the car. You did, and he did, but the moment you started to walk back to him he slammed the door in your face, just a glimpse of his returning panic showing on his own.

‘Hey, please open up, I just wanna make sure you're gunna be okay,’ you said to the wood, but the sound of the lock turning was his reply to that.

‘What's in that bag?’ he demanded with another cough, already forgetting that he'd been right there when you'd asked for everything inside.

‘Just some cold medicine,’ you told him but he didn't believe it, his cough getting worse.

‘No, there's too much inside for just that, what else is in there?’ He needed to know, this was really freaking him out for some reason, and you looked at the bag before telling him to go to his kitchen window. You met him there, and he pushed aside the curtains to make sure you weren't lying as you took out the medicine, still sealed, then the clothes he'd left behind, and you were just about to show him the bear when his eyes fluttered shut and he fell again. You heard the loud crash of him knocking whatever was on his counter to the floor with him, and you ran back to the door and tried desperately to open it.

‘Hey! Are you okay? I can help, please just let me help!’ you called to him through the wood, and you pressed your ear against it tight for any sign of movement until the slow sound of the click reached you again. You instantly turned the handle and carefully opened the door up, your neighbour slouched against the wall and breathing heavily in his fever. ‘I need to get you to the hospital, you could really be sick,’ you told him as you brushed aside his bangs and felt his forehead, but he just shook his head and moaned sickly.

‘No, please, don't make me go… I'll be good… I can finish them…’ You could barely make out what he said, but once you replayed it over in your head you felt your chest ache, and it was then you finally looked up and saw the state of his home; the walls were absolutely covered in hand drawn mazes, one big sprawling beast that looked more like a spreading infection than a decoration. The stuff he'd knocked over had been a stack of dirty plates with food still on them, he hadn't been eating much lately because of this cold, and every single window was closed and only making the air stuffier around him.

‘I won't, but tell me where your room is, I'll make you some soup or something while I'm here,’ you offered, but he managed another head shake before his vertigo worsened and he looked ready to vomit.

‘Don't, no more, I can do it…’

There was no use talking to him like this, he was too sick to even register who you were right now, so you left him a moment to look around. Most of his doors led to the wrong rooms, the bathroom, a closet, a second bigger closet, an empty room, and the final led to a locked door. You were about to ask if that was it but he couldn't hear you, his eyes shut tight while he coughed and moaned and rubbed his throat and arm, he must've banged it up as well when he fell. 

You didn't know what to do, he needed proper bed rest and there was no way you'd be able to get him into your house when he was that eager to get home, so you shot him a glance before running across the yard and grabbing a few things. You returned with the sleeping bag you bought for camping but never really used, as well as all three of your couch cushions so he wouldn't be sleeping on the floor, since he only had an armchair of his own in his empty living room. 

For someone who always looked so put together it was surprising how he lived this way, but you again didn't say anything as you made up his bed and ran home again for some supplies. This time you returned with a few spare pillows, some bottled water to keep nearby, and every single can of chicken noodle soup you had left in your cupboards, something he definitely wouldn't have based on the discarded TV dinner trays in his open trash in the kitchen. 

When his makeshift bed was made, you crawled your way back over to him, making sure to be careful not to startle him as he just laid there, breathing. You still didn't know his name, but you really wished you did as you approached, your hands a safe distance away as you whispered to get his attention.

‘Hey, come this way, okay? I just want you to lay down,’ you said gently, and when his eyes opened again it was like he was looking right through you. ‘You need to rest, I'll stay with you until your fever comes down, so please work with me here…’ When he didn't object you attempted to slip his arm around your shoulder, your own going behind his back, and he whimpered the entire way to the cushions; you couldn't wrap your head around it, he'd always been timid, but he never failed to flash you a smile and a wave when he got his mail, although now you were starting to realize how forced it might've been. He wasn't put together at all, he was hanging by a thread in here, all of it was a facade and it only broke because he'd gotten so sick and had no one to look out for him. 

He didn't understand what his bed was supposed to be at first, but as soon as he felt it was soft he laid down, three cushions clearly not enough as his feet hung over the small edge and rested on the floor. You frowned and grabbed his chair cushion, noting the stack of unopened mail next to the ashtray full of old cigarette butts without a word, and brought it over to him, his shoes gently removed so he wouldn't get dirt on either it or your sleeping bag. His socks were a rich red, quite the contrast to everything else being so beige and brown, and when his feet were all tucked in you moved on to his coat.

He wouldn't need it, but he fought you the entire time you tried to get it off of him, like he was afraid of what would happen if he lost it, and you shushed him and brushed his hair out of his eyes until he was calm, his arms easily sliding through the sleeves when he realized in his haze that you weren't going to hurt him and that he was much too hot. You tossed it out of the way, his head set down on your comfiest pillow when you were done, and he sank into it like he'd forgotten what a pillow felt like. That didn't bode well for you, and you shot the locked room another glance as you got up and went to clean up the mess he'd made now that he was comfortable.

You worked fast, he didn't seem to have ants waiting at the ready but you still didn't want to dawdle and give him one more thing to worry about just in case you missed something, and while you were at it you filled up the sink and got ready to do the dishes, just to help him out. 

When that was done you went back to your original task of giving him some cold medicine and getting him on the right track to being healthy again, or, as healthy as he could be due to the lack of proper food he seemed to eat, and you made a mental note to see what he was running short on seeing as he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. You cracked open the seal on the cap, thankful that your co-worker had grabbed a bottle and not the capsules, he wasn't in a good enough state for any pills, and you filled it up to the line and prepared some water to wash it down as you positioned yourself next to his head.

‘Head, drink this, you'll start to feel better in no time,’ you told him, and he cracked open an eye, looked at the strange coloured liquid in the small, plastic cup, and fully freaked out.

‘No!’ he practically shrieked, swatting it from your hand and spilling it all over you, staining your work shirt purple and making you flinch as the medicinal smell filled your nostrils almost aggressively. He flopped off of the cushions and bumped into his coffee table, completely tangled up in the sleeping bag as he looked around and attempted to figure out where he was, but he was home, and you were just trying to help him, how was his fever so bad that he couldn't get that?’

‘Please, you're getting too worked up, you'll make your fever worse,’ you pleaded with him, the stains ignored in favour of getting this man back onto his cushions. ‘What do you want me to do to prove to you that I'm doing this for you?’

‘Drink it!’ he implored you, pointing to the knocked over and thankfully capped medicine bottle. ‘Show- show me it's okay!’

You weren't sick, but being this close to him might end up making you you were pretty sure, so you decided to humour whatever he asked as long as it got him taking this medicine, laying down, and hopefully having something to eat today. ‘Okay, here I go, it's okay,’ you said slowly as you poured just enough to show him, you didn't want to take a full dose, and you held it up and swirled it around to prove that it was there before grimacing and throwing your head back. 

It'd been a long time since you took any cold meds this way, the liquid caps were so much easier, and you felt like a kid again as you scrunched up your face and grabbed the water you were planning on giving him. You rinsed out your mouth before showing him it was gone, it was safe, and he looked between it and you before deciding that you were telling the truth.

‘Okay,’ he repeated before sniffling, you should really grab him a box of tissues as well soon, and he climbed back onto the cushions and waited for you to pour him some more. He was almost like a child, and you chalked it down to the fever exaggerating his apparent paranoia as you poured again, held it out for him to take, and let him swallow it himself. He mirrored your earlier expression before you handed him some water, and instantly having the liquid seemed to help as he downed more than half the bottle and handed it back to you. You took it and helped him lie back down, and his stomach grumbled the moment he was tucked in again.

‘When's the last time you ate?’ you added him, but he was already starting to fall asleep, all the exertion from his panicking knocking him right out. You went back to the kitchen and did a quick scope of the area, a lot of his food ready-made or instant just as you predicted, and most of everything that wasn't frozen past their due dates. You grabbed the bag you'd used for the mess and started to clear out all the expired food, the bag eventually growing too heavy and needing to be thrown out and replaced before it was even full. You hauled it to the curb and grabbed a new one when you returned, and he hadn't moved an inch as he panted and sweated through the fever.

You took a break to sit with him, a cup full of water next to you as you wet the washcloth you'd found in his sink drawer and dabbed at his forehead with it until he looked a little less pained in his sleep. His face softened and he stopped fidgeting as much as he was cooled, and you saw that he was actually quite handsome when he wasn't panicking. He still whimpered in his sleep like something was troubling him even then, and when you were done cooling him you cracked open the kitchen window and did the dishes as quietly as possible. 

It was strange, being here and cleaning instead of being at work, but you knew you couldn't leave him after all that, and you didn't want to set him off again by sending over a stranger to do this in your place when he'd reacted badly enough to you. When everything in the kitchen was cleaned you gave him a glance, made sure he was still sleeping, and moved onto his bathroom, because you knew if you stopped there then things would go back to stagnating, unfortunately. It was small, a quick clean, but it was clear he wasn't a big fan of chemicals when you found only towels and toilet paper in the ensuite closet. 

You ducked back home again to grab your own, gave the place the deepest clean it'd probably ever had, and let it also air out as you shut the door and kept the sterile smell away from the rest of the house. You couldn't help it, but since you'd started you couldn't stop, and you found yourself tidying his two closets as well, since they were sparsely filled and mostly just needed a bit of organization. You sat on the floor and refolded everything in the smaller one with the shelves, sorting all the knick knacks and containers while you were at it so things would be easier to find and grab, and you took another break to cool him down and make sure he was okay before tackling the bigger closet.

You moved all his coats to either end of the space based on the season, you felt he might appreciate the separation, a little order in his life to make things easier without needing to rifle through the entire bunch when he had this much available space. You did the same to his shoes, although that took less time seeing as he only had two more pairs, and the one looked like he hadn't even worn them yet, like he was saving them until his current pair finally wore down. 

When you were satisfied you checked out the spare room again, making sure there really was nothing in it, and when you confirmed that yes, he just wasn't using this room outside of drawing on the walls, you let your curiosity lead you back to the only door that wouldn't allow you entrance. It was stranger still to have his bedroom locked when he wasn't in it, and you were about to see if you could find the key out of sheer curiosity when you heard him make a sound from around the corner. You immediately returned to him, he was awake and looking around again like he didn't know where he was, and there was a moment of returning panic on his face when he saw you appear and approach him in his own home. 

‘It's just me, how're you feeling?’ You let him get reaccustomed to your presence as you sat back down, giving him as much time as he needed as he checked out the bed you'd made for him in slight confusion.

‘B-better,’ he rasped, clearly still sick, but now lucid enough to see that you weren't a danger to him, although he did linger on the dried and slightly sticky purple stain on your otherwise clean shirt, ‘what're you doing here?’

‘You collapsed at the store where I work so I brought you home, you know you had a bad fever earlier, right?’ you asked, and he felt his forehead with an equally sweaty hand. ‘Here, you're still too warm.’ You gently pushed his hand aside and felt him yourself, definitely still warm, but less so, and you wet the washcloth and attempted to dab at his forehead again before he pulled away.

‘Why are you doing this for me?’ He said it so softly you almost missed it, his eyes not even looking at you as he leaned away from the dripping cloth.

‘I wasn't going to just leave you here,’ you answered honestly, but it didn't make him feel better and you could see it on his face as he gripped the sleeping bag under his pale hands. 

‘You didn't have to, I can take care of myself, y’know, I've been sick before, I've survived worse,’ he muttered, and it didn't sound like a joke in the slightest, his tone concerning you mixed in with what he'd said earlier.

‘So, I should've brought you home and just… what, gone back to work?’ you confirmed with a frown, and he nodded in reply, like that was what he genuinely wanted. ‘You say you can take care of yourself, but you could barely stand, you weren't cleaning up, I wasn't even sure if you were eating or drinking, how could I leave… Bob, if you won't take care of yourself, then who will?’

He looked up at you, meeting your eye in surprise at the mention of his name. ‘How did you-?’

‘Your mail, I saw it on the front of the top envelope, but I didn't open any, don't worry,’ you quickly explained, and he glanced at said mail before turning back to you.

‘I can take care of myself, I always have,’ he mumbled almost to himself as he drew his legs up to his chest, and again he drew your attention to his arm when he rubbed at it.

‘That doesn't mean you have to, though, not on your own,’ you tried, and when he didn't move you shifted a little closer to him and dabbed at his forehead again when you saw how red his face was getting. He didn't flinch away this time, actually leaning into your touch as you cooled him, and when the water ran down his face just a little he closed his eyes and looked more relaxed than he had all day. ‘I know we haven't really talked much, or at all, really, but we've been neighbours for a while now, and… I hope this doesn't sound rude but I haven't seen anyone else around here, do you… do you have anyone you could call in case your fever comes back? You really shouldn't have to do this on your own.’

‘I'll be fine.’ He went to get to his feet without looking at you, and you hoped you hadn't offended him before he staggered on the cushions and nearly toppled over again, he really shouldn't be standing. You hurried up to support him but he didn't want it, now determined to make you leave now that you'd not only called him out on his loneliness, but also seen the state of his place no doubt; no one else had gotten this close and he couldn't have you be the first, and you didn't know whether to leave him or insist on staying as he walked to the door and opened it. ‘Thank you for your help, but I can handle it from here, you should just- go back to work or something.’

‘Wait, at least let me do this,’ you insisted as you headed over to the now clean counter, and you saw the way his eyes looked over everything you'd cleaned when you took out one of the cans of soup you'd brought over. ‘I have a trick for this, now that you're awake I'd like to teach it to you.’ He hesitantly looked you over, his eyes shifting between what you'd done and what you were about to do, and he thought it over before shutting the door again. He nodded and joined you by the counter, and you quickly opened the can before going to his freezer. ‘I know it's not from scratch, but it can really make a plain can of soup that much better,’ you began as you grabbed the few things that had survived his cold, a bag of frozen veggies and some celery added to the counter along with a big pot. ‘I tend to just use the carrots, but I think you could use a little extra, if you don't mind me saying.’

He didn't speak, just watched you work with the odd cough and sniffle as you dumped one can, quickly joined by a second, into a pot along with the veggies and celery after you'd chopped up the still fresh sections. He didn't have much in the way of cooking, clearly he didn't do it outside of his usual meals, and you waited until the pot began to boil before giving in and rushing home. 

He watched the stove for you while you grabbed what you were missing, and when you returned you found him leaning over the pot and breathing in the lovely smells. You quickly diced the onion and added in the parsley, dill, and lemon, and you had no idea how well it was going to work with the peas and green beans but if he liked it then you'd consider this a success. 

You waited until it was all cooked, a quick sip followed by a bigger bite of everything making you moan in hunger, you'd worked up quite the appetite while you'd been cleaning you realized, and he looked less ready to throw you out as you set it to a simmer and grabbed a bowl. Crackers were one of the few things he still had, and you pulled out a sleeve for him after presenting him with the steaming soup, Bob licking his lips and looking ready to cry even though it was such a simple recipe. ‘See, nothing beats homemade, but I can at least spice this up for you, you aren't allergic to any of that, are you? I should've asked first, I'm sorry-’

‘I'm not, but thank you, for asking, I mean,’ he said softly as he lifted the spoon, and he blew on it a couple times before taking his first bite; some colour came back to him as the tastes penetrated his cold and allowed him the simple joy of good, hot soup while sick, and he ignored the crackers completely as he sat on his cushionless chair and scarfed it all down. It was still too hot, and he kept burning his tongue when he didn't want to wait at first, but the bowl was empty before he knew it, and life looked good on him as he looked back over to the stove. ‘Uh…’

You didn't let him ask, gladly refilling his bowl for him as well as bringing him some water, and you weren't sure if it was because you'd opened the window earlier but it certainly felt lighter in there as he dug in again. You smiled at him, seeing him like this was much nicer than whatever was troubling him before, and you considered him okay enough to leave just like he wanted as you gathered your coat and keys.

‘You're leaving?’ You froze mid-step on the way to the door, Bob staring at the floor when you turned back to him. ‘I mean, you aren't gunna have any?’ You hadn't planned on it, you'd made it all for him, but you felt you couldn't resist as you set your things back down and grabbed a second bowl from the cupboard. You didn't fill it as much as his, you still wanted him to have most of it, and you made sure to save him all the good stuff before pulling up a cushion and sitting opposite him on the floor. ‘...It's been a while since I had anything like this, not since I left home,’ he confessed to you as you ate, but you didn't pry, you knew he had more secrets than what you'd seen so far. ‘It's nice, the food and… and getting to eat with someone, I didn't think I'd be able to have something like this again, after…’

Your curiosity was killing you, but you quelled it by reaching across the table and placing your hand over his, not taking it, not making him feel trapped, but just showing him that you were there.

‘Well, anytime you wanna have it again, or any other meal, or even just someone to sit with you when you're sick again, you can always call me, I'm right next door,’ you promised him, and the look of hope on his face was both relieved and tragic at the same time over something so small. 

‘Does that include today, or do you still have to go to work?’ he asked, and when you smiled at him he flipped his hand to hold yours for that extra bit of comfort. 

‘I already told my boss I'd work Saturday for this, I've got nothing else going on today,’ you admitted since there was a very good chance he didn't even remember going to the store with how out of it he was. ‘Oh, that reminds me-’ You grabbed the bag you'd moved to the counter when you cleaned, and he watched you go in a relaxed silence until he saw you pull out what you'd brought him. ‘You nearly left these at the checkout so I wanted to make sure- what's wrong?’

‘Can you forg- it's nothing, thank you, I'll pay you back,’ he said dismissively, nervously, his eyes anywhere but on you or perhaps the items as you frowned and set them down. 

‘It's fine, don't worry about it,’ you replied as you went to join him again, but something had changed, and he now seemed aware that you were in his house, that you were surrounded by the mazes he'd drawn all over the walls. ‘Hey, I may not know what's going on, and you don't have to tell me, but at least for today will you let me finish taking care of you?’ you asked with a small smile, and he looked behind you before deciding that yes, he'd actually like that, his own forced smile mirroring yours before it turned into something soft and genuine.

You liked this smile a lot more you also decided as you got back to your soup, Bob watching you eat before joining you on the floor. His posture was a lot more relaxed than you'd ever seen before as he finished off his second bowl and went for thirds to your delight, and when his fever came back a bit later, he actually allowed you to let him lay his head in your lap while you dabbed at his forehead. 

You didn't know if he'd ever tell you about the mazes, or the room, or why he'd reacted so strongly to you today, but you could be patient with him as you brushed his hair out of the way, his eyes closing as he fell back into an easy sleep in the safety of your arms, the crisp smell of fall and the hearty scent of the soup filling his empty house and making it feel a little more like a home.

[aswallowssong]

Sicktember 2024 #7: Borrowed Hoodie

The idea for this was, literally, "Aaron’s hoodie being passed around like a healing balm." It was @themetaphorgirl's prompt, and I love her for it, because if there's anything I love, it's when the person that's usually the whumpee becomes the caretaker, even in the short form. Honorable mention comment goes to @fragolinaa, who said, and I quote: "Alex calling him Aaron is the equivalent of showing a glock"

Spencer

“I’m tired,” Spencer mumbled against Aaron’s side. It was Friday night, and they were at another one of Derek’s football games. Aaron knew the rules of football against his will, having been Derek’s roommate the year before, but it seemed that no matter how many times he tried to explain them to Spencer, it wasn’t sticking.

That, or Spencer couldn’t get over why a sport about passing and running had to be so violent. He didn’t like it when they tackled one another, which was every play, and he really didn’t like it when Derek got tackled. 

“I know, Bug,” Aaron said gently, pulling Spencer closer to him as his eyes stayed locked on the field. It was getting colder as the season went on, and Spencer was shivering, so some extra snuggles were in order.

“I wanna go home,” Spencer whined, flopping down so his head could lay in Aaron’s lap. 

Aaron ruffled his hair. “I know, Bug,” he echoed. “The game’s almost over. I told Derek we’d try to stay for the whole thing. There’s four minutes left.”

“That could take a million years,” Spencer mumbled, and when Aaron’s hand paused against Spencer’s scalp, he noticed how warm his ‘little brother’ felt. 

His mouth tugged down into a frown, and he looked over at Alex, but she wasn’t watching them. She was buried in her book, her back against James’ side while he watched with rapt attention. James liked to give Derek specific praise after his games – something he said that Ned always did for him – and while it was sweet, it made him oblivious to the world for the two hours they were on the bleachers.

“Bug?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer nestled further into Aaron’s lap, the tip of his thumb between his teeth. “Mm. ‘m cold.”

Aaron sighed. Spencer ran mystery fevers all the time, and they usually found out the cause later in the night, or the next day. Some cold, or flu, or worse, a stomach bug that reared its ugly head and made them all stressed out for a week, and usually got Aaron sick, too, in the process.

He thought for a second before stripping off his hoodie, and then laying it over Spencer like a blanket. Spencer sighed in relief, snuggling into it and balling his fists in the soft, blue fabric.

“That help?” Aaron asked, and Spencer nodded sleepily, closing his eyes as he turned his face into Aaron’s stomach. 

“Uh huh. Thanks, Bubba.” __________

Alex

They’d been fighting about it for five entire minutes.

“Birdy, come on.”

“I’m fine, Aaron. Leave me alone.”

Aaron, not Bubba. I really must have done it this time.

“I won’t,” Aaron said, moving to try to stop her as she marched down the sidewalk. “You’ve been trying to dodge us all day, I barely caught you now, and I had to ask Penelope for your work schedule.”

“How did Penelope get my work schedule?”

Aaron gestured vaguely, moving again so he was in front of his pseudo-twin. “Penelope could find the president’s schedule if she wanted to.”

Alex rolled her eyes, not moving to push back the hair that was blocking some of her face from his view. She always pulled her hair away from her face, she’d said once that it was a sensory nightmare, but she didn’t have a headband or a clip pulling it back, and it wasn’t in a ponytail or a braid like she usually did.

“Are you mad at me? Is this about Spencer? Because if you’re mad at me, you shouldn’t be avoiding everyone, just tell me what I did.”

Alex huffed, pushing past him again. “I’m not mad at you, you’re reading into it.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, but then used his lank to his advantage, stepping in front of her again. He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in place, and bent a little to look her in the face.

“Birdy, please, come on. Spencer’s worried, he doesn’t know why you’re avoiding him.” When he said it he knew it was a low blow, but he was starting to feel anxiety like bubbles popping in his chest. “I told him I’d make sure you were at dinner.”

Alex looked up at him after a second, some of her face still blocked by her hair,, and if looks could kill, he would have been six feet under.

“Let go of me, Aaron.”

“Alex–”

“I have homework to do. I’ve got too many things–”

Her words cut off as she shuddered under his hands, goosebumps erupting on her arms as she shivered in weather that was already too warm for him to be wearing his hoodie in the first place.

“Woah,” he said reflexively, “Are you… cold?”

She shook her head quickly and shivered again, before tucking her face away from him, and he didn’t even think as he reached out and gently grabbed her chin, turning her head so he could actually see her face.

When he did, everything clicked into place.

“Holy shit, Alex, you look awful.”

She frowned, and to his horror, her lower lip started trembling. “Stop, Aaron–”

“No way, Bird,” he said, the popping of anxiety in his chest going from slow moving bubbles to sparks like fireworks. “No wonder you’ve been a ghost today, you should be in bed, not running around trying to dodge us.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to say, but it was painfully obvious she wasn’t, and Aaron took a second to breathe before he was rubbing his hands up and down her arms, trying to help somehow. He was good at taking care of Spencer, but Spencer was ten.

Plus, Alex was usually the one taking care of him, and Spencer, so how was he supposed to do anything to help her?

“We should… find James. I’ll text James. He can meet us back at my room, and he’ll know what to do.”

She started to protest, but as she shivered harshly again, all of the fight seemed to go out of her. Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she nodded slowly. 

“Okay.”

He thought for a second before unzipping his hoodie, and he helped her thread her arms through the sleeves before zipping it for her. It hung like a dress down to the middle of her thighs, but she didn’t seem to notice, or felt too awful to care.

After a moment she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in the fabric of his shirt. 

“Thanks, Bubba.”

“Of course,” he said automatically. “Of course, Birdy.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” __________

Haley

“You don’t have to do this, Ari. It’s sweet, but you’re gonna–”

“Hay, James said you probably should be with someone to watch your fever. It’s fine, I don’t care about getting sick. I care about you.”

Haley sat next to him on the bench outside of Roosevelt house, her head laying against his arm as he tried to coax her into following him back to Lincoln house. He’d thought she was acting weird at dinner, and by the time she’d finally admitted to him that she wasn’t feeling all that great, Alex and James had taken Spencer back with them and the others, granting them enough privacy for him to convince her to let him help.

She’d fought going to the nurse harder than he thought she would, but he’d been able to convince her to on the thermometer in his backpack, normally reserved for Spencer. After that he’d called James, and she’d already gone inside and grabbed a tote bag with the things she thought she might need.

When she’d gone in she’d been wearing his hoodie, which he’d given her even after she’d protested that she was going to get germs on it, and he’d fully scoffed. Odds were he was going to get sick anyway. When she’d come out with her bag and was still wearing it, he’d told the bees in his stomach to knock it the fuck off.

“Harper just…” she turned and muffled a cough into her elbow, but he finished the thought for her. “Is the worst?”

She laughed and shook her head, clearing her throat before speaking again.

“She just gets really freaked out about getting sick and missing class, and missing cheer. It’s like, she would rather die.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Aaron said simply, rubbing Haley’s back. She’d started shivering again, and it was making him anxious. “People get sick all the time. Spencer and I get sick all the time. You’ve got like, a cold virus or something, and it’ll go away.”

Haley turned and raised a weak eyebrow at him. “A cold virus, or something?”

“I don’t want to be a doctor,” he said simply. “I want to be a lawyer.”

“A man with ambition,” she said, teasing him, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. She was more miserable than she was letting on. “I like that.”

“And I like you feeling well,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Come on, Haley. It’s alright, I promise.”

She looked up at him, glassy eyed and fever flushed, and sniffled quietly before taking his hand and letting him help her up. He grabbed her bag, even though she protested, and couldn’t help but feel a swell of fondness at the fact that his hoodie dwarfed her, the sleeve pooling around their connected hands while the other completely covered her hand. He nodded towards it, giving her a shy smile.

“When JJ’s cardigans do that to Spencer’s hands, she calls it ‘Sweater Paws,’ like he’s a kitten.”

“Are you calling me a baby?” She said, but she laughed listlessly, so he knew she wasn’t serious.

“It’s cute,” he said, trying and failing to not blush like a moron.

“Well, maybe I should wear your jackets more often. Not just because I’m so cold.”

“You’re hot.”

“Wow. Forward.”

“I mean–!” He blushed darker, fumbling for the right words. “You know what I meant! You have a fever!”

“I know, I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time,” she said, leaning her head against his arm as they walked. “Thanks for letting me stay. I feel silly about it.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I already said it, I don’t care about getting sick. I care about you.” ___________

James

James was raising an eyebrow at him, though it looked misplaced on his pale yet darkly flushed face.

“Your hoodie won’t fit me.”

“Try me,” Aaron said, holding it out to him. “Or do I need to help you put it on?”

James grumbled, taking it from him. “This is silly.”

“You’re the one that tried to hide in a study room to finish homework instead of calling your dad and telling him to pick you up in the first place.”

“I didn’t know Penelope had tagged us.”

“Well,” Aaron said, “Yeah, the ethics on that are sketchy. But how else was Alex supposed to find you when you didn’t show up after classes let out? And then no one could find you for two hours until Penny finally ratted on herself!”

He hadn’t meant to get a little loud, and only noticed when James winced and rubbed at his temples, but James was usually their rock. The fact that he’d been the one to go MIA hadn’t sat right, and he’d been fighting off the anxiety ever since.

“I didn’t mean to worry everyone,” James said quietly. He’d pulled Aaron’s hoodie on, which had stopped the fever chills a little bit, and had fit, which Aaron had known it would. It was just baggy enough in the shoulders to fit James’ broader ones. “I wanted the opposite.”

“Well you got the not-opposite,” Aaron said, way too flustered to think of a good retort. Instead he stared at James longer than was appropriate, and was startled when someone honked their car horn.

“Shit,” he said at the same time that James said, “Stars,” like they were in a southern sitcom.

“Jeff, cut it out!”

Ned was walking up to them, concern etched onto his face, while Jeff, his best friend and bakery partner, was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, sheepishly waving and mouthing “sorry.”

Aaron liked Ned. Ned was a good dad.

“Mini, why in the world would you have stayed here feeling bad when you know I would’a come to get you right quick had you called? Alex sounded worried out of her mind.”

“That’s just Alex,” James said, but Aaron watched him quickly wilt as he laid eyes on his dad. “It’s not that bad.”

“He’s got a fever over a hundred n’ one,” Aaron said, his accent strengthening the second he heard Ned talk. “He’s full’a crap.”

Ned nodded at Aaron, ruffling his hair before he grabbed James’ backpack off the ground. “Thanks, Bubba. Charlie’s anxious to get him back. Mama’s worried.”

He said it in James’ direction, but didn’t take his eyes off Aaron, and it made him feel warm inside.

James got up to walk with him back to the car, mumbling a thanks to Aaron, but was half way there when he turned around.

“Oh, Aaron, this is your hoodie.” He started moving sluggishly to take it off, but Aaron shook his head. 

“It’s fine. I’m not worried about it.”

“Didn’t your brother pick it for you, though? It’s important.”

Aaron nodded, taking a beat before shrugging. “It is. A, um. A different brother needs it right now.”

He watched as James’ face went from confused to thoughtful, a small and sheepish smile crossing his face before he nodded, turned, and followed Ned to the car.

[diaboliklove]

modern day au where yui cannot catch a break, and things only get worse when her house gets broken into by an angry red headed robber — but instead of taking her things, he takes her heart

yui was having the worst year of her life.

even worse than in 2013 when her father wouldn’t let her go to that taylor swift concert since it was deemed ‘unholy.’

she really thought only taylor could understand her.

but now its 2024, and she’s begun to have adult problems. she’s broke, her heater is broken, her apartment has started to fall apart, she stained her favorite pink skirt with coffee, her phone screen shattered when she dropped it on the train, she ran out of her favorite lip gloss, college bills keep stacking up, her upstairs neighbors never stop engaging in fornication, strawberries are out of season so she can no longer afford them and most importantly —

her father just passed away.

and all she wanted now was to rot in her apartment and ask god for mercy on her poor heart.

“it’ll be okay,” she sniffled back a tear. “father used to say the lord puts us through trials to test our faith.”

yeah, used to.

it was now late night, coming back from her fathers funeral she felt more empty than when she first got the news. her feet hurt from the black heels she now had to walk home in, the black dress did little to give her warmth, her cheeks were numb from the cold weather and having to comfort people with a smile that she’ll be okay, that there was nothing to worry about.

… but yui was already worrying about dinner. also how she’d have to shiver herself to sleep again. she couldn’t allow herself to cry herself to sleep again, her face would be frozen when she woke up, and what if she finds another hole in the walls? tape didn’t work last time, and she’s running out of rags to stuff in between them. and what about her job? she can’t buy more rags without it. they granted her a leave of absence due to her fathers passing, but what if they replaced her? if she lost her job she couldn’t pay rent — and she couldn’t ask for another extension on rent, her landlord was fed up enough with her pleading, she wouldn’t get lucky again. and also —

“no, lets just take it one day at a time. thats right,” she neared the steps to her apartment. “deep breath in, and then out. lets have some canned soup for dinner, and then pair it with rewatching the kardashians. yeah. thats a great plan.”

she turned the corner to her door.

“everything will get better,”

she put the key in the lock.

“as long as i stay positive.”

and she swung her door open —

“shit!”

“AH!”

— right into a mans back.

at first she thought she opened the wrong door. but the faint smell of her candles hit her nose, and her eyes fell on the very TV she watched shitty TV on in the mans arms — and then her eyes landed on a fucking sword on his waist.

her eyes followed it as he dropped her TV from his arms, and unsheathed it from his waist —

— and directed it right in between her eyes.

“empty your fucking purse! ill fucking kill you!”

Oh wow. wooooow.

now you would think the right action would be to do as he said. anyone would listen to a manic man with hair as red as blood, especially when they pointed a sword at you that looked like it came from the 1800’s. its not like yui wanted to die, so maybe she should save her life and sacrifice her beloved tv and the few pennies she had in her wallet.

but instead. her face twisted, and yui broke out in the most ugly open mouthed sob she’s ever done.

it wasn’t out of fear. it didn’t even register how this man genuinely had bloodlust leaking out of him. it was out of absolute frustration and sadness that this was becoming her life — and that she couldn’t even have her dream of watching the kardashians.

she fell to her knees. because, seriously, what the hell did she do to deserve all of this? she was a good kid. never acted out to her father and attended mass even when she had the flu. she never wished bad on anyone. but why does everything always have to end bad? on her 11th birthday her goldfish frank died, when she wanted a coffee last week, her card declined and now she couldn’t even sob into her blankets while she heard kim talking about how rich she was. can’t she have one good day? can’t she —

“holy shit, are you crying?” the red haired man didn’t even move.

yui looked up to him, and just stared at the man’s flabbergasted expression. through her tears, she tried to inhale through her nose, but it came out in little stutters. she extended her purse towards him.

“take it. take everything if you want.” yui spoke through her sobs. its not like anything she really wanted was here anymore.

yui curled up into her knees and rocked herself, continuing to cry hysterically at the thought of just her life. she wouldn’t mind if that man stole everything in her house — material objects could be replaced… eventually. when her eyes started to burn by the amount of tears flooding out, she noticed she couldn’t hear the familiar floorboards creak from movement and her purse was still in her hands. lifting her head to see what was going on, she noticed that the man hadn’t moved from his spot, and just was gawking at her sitting on the floor. they held eye contact for a while, like they were both afraid to move.

sure, yui thought he was a manic. but he probably thought yui was a suicidal manic.

while she held eye contact, she finally really looked at him.

he was fit. wearing a black shirt and a ripped jean jacket, yui could tell he wasn’t bulky, but instead quite lean. his pecs were defined and his muscular abdomen and biceps were flexed against the fabric from welding the heavy sword. his joggers looked worn down, and black nikes seemed like they seen better days. his face was … nice. well sculpted and he had a well defined jaw. his lips were plump and chapped from the chill outside.

what threw yui off was the cacophony that was his hair and eye color. bright firetruck red for hair that looked like he hadn’t brushed it in days, and green eyes fit for only a predator. regardless of the situation, yui could tell he honestly was… beautiful. dangerous. probably looked more attractive if he didn’t have his mouth wide open in awe.

his eyebrows furrowed, and he closed his mouth. he placed his sword back in his sheath, and leaned down to grab the tv from the floor. he looked towards yui again, with a face she could only describe as disappointment. clicking his tongue, he began to drag the tv … not towards the door but towards the tv cabinet.

“this isn’t fun anymore. you can have your shitty shit back.”

placing the tv back in its rightful throne, he squatted down and went through a worn down black backpack — that had some random pins of a band she never heard of — that was on the floor. within it, he took out her favorite necklace, her jewelry box, a couple of her wool sweaters and her damn smart toaster she picked up extra shifts for.

“this is yours. ill be back when you’re mentally stable, you deranged bitch.” he motioned to the items on the floor.

“really?”

the robber rolled his eyes. “of course I will be! do you know how much your toaster —“

“— no i mean. you’ll give it back?”

“you want me to take it?”

“well… i’d like it if you didn’t.”

“then! shut the fuck up.”

he grabbed his backpack and swung it around his shoulder. he started making his way towards the door right beside yui. as he took two steps past her, he paused.

“you’re really broke, you know.”

yui sniffled. “i know.”

“like, broke broke. i don’t think ive ever broke into a house that had so much of nothing. what are you, a level one sim? do you have no hobbies? do you even eat? i see nothing to even munch on here.”

“… i have soup.”

“you literally have two cans of spaghetti-os and tomato soup.”

yui sniffled louder. “i know.”

things were silent for a while. yui was sure the robber was still there, probably reconsidering his decision. she expected him to march back in to take her things again while flipping her off. this entire situation seemed too good to be true… but maybe this could end with her losing nothing... no. she wouldn’t let herself hope for something that was next to impossible in a situation like this.

but something even more unlikely happened.

the robber spoke again.

“do you like dennys?”

“w…what?” yui turned her head towards him.

“dennys. the best restaurant in the world. do you like it?” his face stayed neutral, but somehow the question felt like a threat.

yui feared the honest answer, ‘ive never been’ would end in her getting decapitated. so, she said, “i do.”

“do you want to go get some pancakes?”

it was yuis turn to gawk at him. he looked bored, and slid his hands in his pockets. now, maybe a normal person would say ‘fuck no, its 10pm and you just broke into my home somehow and then tried to steal my beloved tv and lovely toaster then pointed a fucking sword at me… also, i don’t even know your name you creep.’

but yui wasn’t a normal person experiencing normal things right now.

“pancakes sound nice.”

aka, the alternative universe in which two cold hearts find warmth within each other.

[imagines--galore]

hello! i see you write for sherlock! i was thinking maybe serial killer!reader x sherlock...

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: M. Romance. Thriller. Murder. Fair warnings the story is going to deal with a lot of things such as sexual assault, murder, abuse, trauma, blood, death and a ton of other stuff. But don't worry! There is also plenty of pinning, lovey dovey, and all things romance crammed in this request as well. Also reader is more of a vigilante serial killer so…..yeah A/N: .............Holy ****! When I tell you my brain EXPLODED with ideas for this little suggestion! Erm.....also this got a bit long.......oopsies? I'm actually really proud of what I've written here :3 Hope you guys like it!!!!! Please tell me if you did!!!!

You stood over your latest victim, watching as he tried to crawl away from you. You were at your leisure as you were aware that there was no way he would be getting away.

"You're doing the same thing she did Mr. Miles. She told me how she tried to crawl away from you after you beat her senseless."

You walked forward, not even bothered by the blood that smeared the floor as the man tried to get away. You stopped once you stepped on his hand, watching in satisfaction as he whimpered in pain as you attempted to break a few digits.

"Let me go. Please. Please. Let me go." You let out a little laugh as you played with the sharp edge of the knife that you were holding.

"Oh my! Word for word. Just like she said when you raped her." You allowed him to pull his hand back as he turned over to lie on his back, unable to get any further.

Probably due to the blood loss from where he had been castrated by you not more then ten minutes ago.

"Please, I have children." He begged to which you scoffed. "The children you beat. The children who's mother you raped and beat until she was put in the hospital."

You leaned down, grabbing the man under his arms and hauling him up into a nearby chair. The piece of furniture was the only thing in the otherwise bare and darkened room. The man cried out because of the pain, but remained upright.

You stood in front of him, eyes gleaming with a deadly fire as you raised your knife.

"They're better off without you Mr. Miles." He let out a sob as he stared back into your cold eyes, his own full of fear.

"Who are you?" He breathed, unable to look away from your face as you stood to your full height. The knife in your hand gleamed wickedly.

"Your worst nightmare."

When you walked out of the shed, his screams and pleas of mercy were still ringing in your ears.

Despite the fact that he had been dead for nearly half an hour.

                                             ————————–

You sighed as you slumped into your chair, hand massaging the back of your neck as you blinked at the lights above.

"Long day?" Your closest friend at work, Mary, asked as she looked up from where she had been reading over a chart for a patient. "Try long week." You responded, allowing your body to stretch with your arms in the air to pop a muscle in your back.

"Its the flu season so mothers are coming in left right and center with their little ones." You added as a way of explanation, shaking your head at the thought of the many first time mothers you had helped calm down. To you it was a sign of good parenting, seeing them get so worked up about their child who just had a minor cold.

You glanced at your watch. Only a few more minutes before your shift was over. Maybe you could take the time to catch up with Mary. "So! You didn't tell me what happened with that handsome army doctor you've been going out with. Has he proposed yet?" You asked with a teasing smile as you cradled your chin in your hands, elbows resting on your knees.

She gave a little laugh. "Oh we're getting close to the proposal. His friend coming back put a little detour on his plans, but once their reacquainted he'll pop the question." You sighed in envy.

"Thats what I admire so much about you Mary. You're just so confident that he is." The woman grinned and threw you a wink. "Well he can't get any better then this, so of course he will be settling for the best."

Laughing lightly under your breath, you began to gather your things, making sure you didn't leave your phone behind as you had often done in the past.

Just then the small television that Mary had on for background noise burst into Breaking News. The both of you turned your attention to the screen as the anchor announced how yet another body had been discovered, castrated and left after the male died.

"Looks like we have a serial killer on our hand." Mary said in a soft voice, prompting you to purse your lips and nod in agreement. "Whoever this person is, they're really covering their tracks." You said as they showed the picture of the man you had killed a week ago.

Mary glanced at you, taking in the tense expression on your face and the way your eyes were glued to the screen. Reaching out she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry love, the killer is only targeting men. And according to very credible resources that I have." She leaned forward as if she were sharing a secret.

"The men that were killed, they weren't really good men themselves. So far, every single one of them has had a rape allegation against them, which all of them dodged because of crummy evidence, bad lawyers, blackmail and money." You watched as she glanced at the screen once more. "My John and his friend Sherlock, you know the famous detective?" You gave a little nod of acknowledgement.

"Well they're both on the case since the Scotland Yard was having trouble finding the killer." You frowned. "But if they find the killer will they be sent to jail?" You asked to which Mary gave a small shrug. "Honestly, they're doing what the legal system could not, taking monsters out of the streets. But of course, the law won't see it that way."

You glanced at Mary before looking at the screen once again, now filled with the pictures of all the men you had killed.

"Yeah." You echoed. "They won't."

Which is why you did what you did.

                                             ————————–

Sherlock was staring intently at the floor where he had laid out pictures, news-clippings, police reports, hospital reports, anything that could help him connect the victims with one another.

This killer, whoever they were, was not like anyone he had ever encountered before.

For one they were smart, smart enough to not leave a single trace of evidence behind.

Second they killed their victim in a place where the latter would frequent. Most of these locations were out of the way, making it convenient for them to be killed.

The only thing so far, that was connecting the victims, was the fact that they had an allegation of rape filed against them in the past. Sherlock had to dig really deep to get some of the files since they had been wiped from the system. He had a suspicion that it had something to do with corruption in the justice legal system, but he wasn't about to dive into that at the moment.

He could always send what he had deduced to Mycroft but perhaps later.

"Any luck?" John asked, walking into the flat with fresh Chinese take out. Sherlock didn't bother with a reply, his mind racing as he tried to come up with something, anything that would help him solve the case.

"Nothing. Nothing that would link all these men together other then the rape allegations for which none of them served any time." Sherlock was starting to feel just a little frustrated at the seemingly unsolvable puzzle. "Six victims in two months, all of them castrated yet killed off in different ways." He began to list them off. "The first poisoned, the second strangled, the third a knife through the heart, the fourth a bullet to the chest, the fifth a bullet to the head and the latest was left to bleed out slowly." The consulting detective glanced at the pictures of the dead men. “Can’t even trace the weapon back to the owner since they were all purchased in bills and were wiped clean of any prints.

"Obviously these were all killings fueled by revenge or justice, perhaps a mixture of sorts." He mumbled under his breath as John began to polish off the dumplings. "Because they were all castrated?" The former army doctor asked at which Sherlock nodded. "Whoever our killer is they're doing this out of revenge for perhaps what happened to them, or someone they love. And I am beginning to believe that this is the work of a woman."

"What makes you say that?" John asked, eyes going over the pictures of the victims dead bodies. "There is a lot of emotion behind these killings. And only a woman is capable of feeling something so deeply." Sherlock glanced up at the doctor who raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't let Mary hear you say that." He stated seriously, at which Sherlock waved a hand in a dismissive manner.

"It is only for this situation that I am applying such a hypothesis Watson. I am well aware of men over-reacting more then women do." His blue gaze turned back to the mind map in front of him.

“Like you.” The Doctor mumbled under his breath.

Moving to grab a box of stir-fry, John glanced at the hospital reports, that Sherlock had set aside, on the table. They were the ones the rape victims had given to the police when they were first brought in the hospital.

"Huh? Seems this girl went to the hospital Mary works at." He stated in an off-handed manner. "St. Gemma." Almost as if a string had pulled, Sherlock's head snapped in the direction of his friend. "St. Gemma?" All of a sudden, the detective was frantically riffling through the files of each rape victim. And in each file he found the same logo stamped in the right hand corner of the page of the same hospital.

"This is it John! The hospital! That's the link!" He waved the papers in the air as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. "Every single one of these women were taken to this hospital after the rape, meaning our killer is someone at the hospital."

John frowned before shaking his head. "A serial killer working at a hospital? Don't be daft Sherlock, every person working there with a medical degree has taken an oath to never take a life." Sherlock shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We should have Lestrade screen everyone, from the head of the hospital down to the janitor."

He threw the papers in the air as he rushed to pull on his coat and scarf, nearly vibrating with excitement. John quickly shoved his chopsticks in the take out box of his half-eaten stir-fry and quickly followed after the already retreating figure of the detective.

"And with Mary working there, we have ourselves a man on the inside." Sherlock added as he bounded down the stairs.

"Woman." John quickly corrected him at which Sherlock rolled his eyes before hailing a cab.

"Semantics."

                                             ————————–

If it were physically possible, your eyes would be flashing red with pure and utter anger as you tried to calm the near hysterical girl that had been brought it.

She was so young, younger then you at least. And she had just been a victim of rape. By two teenagers no less, from what she had told the story. You did your best to calm the girl down, getting her water to drink and even administrating some sleep drug into her system so she could calm down somewhat, after the police had taken their statement.

Taking out your phone, you quickly typed in the girl's name as well as he names of the two boys she had given. They were from the same school as she was, and God help them if they got away with the heinous crime they had committed.

You would be paying them a visit if they did.

Your mind was still reeling with the possibility of your next target, but for now you had to keep a calm and cool head. There would be a trial since there was more then enough evidence to implicate the two boys, but you had lost your faith in the justice system a long time ago.

It had failed your mother and then it had failed your sister.

And you were not about to let anyone else get away with ruining another person's life.

Not if you had anything to say about it.

Sighing to yourself you leaned against a wall, head in your hand, trying your best to take a calming breath before you were to speak with Mary. The two of you had decided on a little dinner date, and you were looking forward to just having some normal time with your friend.

"Mary! Lets go! I'm starving and if I’m not fed soon I will eat the next thing that comes in front of me." You said as you walked through the door of your shared office space. What you hadn't been expecting was another person just standing at the entrance, causing you to bump straight into them and loose your footing.

You would've fallen, if it weren't for the person, man, reaching out to catch you with an arm around your middle. Your own hands flew out to grasp his shoulders, in an effort to steady yourself.

Your lips were parted in a silent gasp, your eyes wide at being caught off-guard.

Y/C/E met blue and if it weren't for Mary calling out to ask if you were alright, you were sure you would've lost yourself in the varying shades of blue that you were able to pick up with just one look.

"I'm fine." You said, stepping away from the man, neither of you breaking eye-contact as you did. His gaze was rather intense, as if he were scrutinizing your every move, even the way you breathed. You raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"You know, when a person enters a room they are expected to move away from the door to allow other people to walk in." You stated in a dry tone, before turning your attention to the other two occupants in the room.

Despite the fact that you wanted to keep looking at the gorgeous man you had bumped into.

Mary was grinning like an idiot, prompting you to roll your eyes, knowing exactly what ran through her scheming mind. The man next to her stood with an air of authority and the stance of a soldier. "You must be Dr. John Watson. Nice to see Mary didn't just make you up." You said, reaching out to gently bump your shoulder against your friend who gave you an offended look.

He gave you a warm smile, and you instantly liked him as you shook his hand. "And you're Y/N Y/L/N, Mary has told me all about you." You grinned about to reply when the other man cut in.

"Yes, yes we would all love to sit around drink tea and play house guest, but we do not have time Watson." He sounded irritated, probably at being ignored by the woman he had bumped into.

Though he would rather gouge his own eyes out then admit he was effected in such a manner. You glowered at the consulting detective. "Nice to see you keep such polite company Mary." You said, prompting your friend to give a small laugh as she looped her arm through yours.

"Would love to stay and chat boys, but Y/N gets cranky when shes hungry, so I shall see you later." With that she began to lead you out of the room. "It was nice meeting you John!" You called over your shoulder to which he replied, "Likewise."

As for the other man, you gave him a once over that was almost dismissive in nature. "Holmes." Who else could it be other then the famous Sherlock Holmes.

He stood taller, returning your haughty gaze with his own. "Y/L/N."

The exchange was one that would be imprinted in your mind for days to come, as it would be in his.

Though it didn't stop Mary from teasing you about it all through dinner.

                                             ————————–

Your kill streak had died down. For some reason the legal system seemed to be doing what they were supposed to and putting every monster they encountered behind bars.

Perhaps your message had gotten through to them.

Either they take care of justice themselves or you would take it in your own hands.

The Castrator, the media had begun to call you once the details of your kills had been leaked. And it seemed your actions had given victims of rape the strength to come forward and name their attackers, which had led to a surge of people being either shipped off to jail, or being put under investigation.

Whatever had happened, you were feeling more like yourself then ever before. And you were beginning to live a somewhat normal life as well.

All thanks to Mary.

You hadn't expected her to become something of an older sister to you in a span of the few months you knew her. And yet here you were, happily helping her plan her wedding with John and enjoying every moment of it.

The two of you would go shopping, go over the catering, the guest list and everything else in-between. Of course John was always there. He was the groom and his opinion mattered.

Somewhat.

And then there was Sherlock.

At first he had been extremely moody and snappish, a trait he adopted when a case he was working went cold. That case being that of The Catrator. According to him, the killer seemed to have cooled off for now, prompting them to take a step back from killing.

However, that meant he would now turn his undivided attention to helping Mary and John plan the perfect wedding.

Plans over which you and him would butt heads on more then one occasion.

You would both fight both sides of the argument, bouncing facts and opinions off each other as if you had rehearsed it beforehand. Mary and John would stare, amazed to the very core as the two of you would start an argument before settling it yourself by giving logical reasoning. Sometimes Sherlock would win, and sometimes you would win.

Whatever it was, it was fascinating to watch the two of you interact.

Or flirt, as Mary had once put it, prompting you to throw a carefully folded napkin at her head.

                                             ————————–

The day Mary asked you to be her Maid of Honor was truly one of the happiest of your life.

You had embraced the woman within an inch of your life, before entering 221 B to share the news with John and Sherlock. Only to find Sherlock standing there in an almost catatonic like state, holding a cup of tea in his hand and looking at John as if he were a creature from another world.

"Whats with him?" You asked as you removed your coat to reveal the turtle neck dress you had pulled on that morning, paired with knee high boots.

John smacked his lips, barely looking up from where he was reading the news. "I asked him to be my best man while also stating that he's my best friend." Mary, who had stooped to give her fiancée a kiss to the cheek gave a light gasp.

"John! I told you not to break him!" She said, shock and amusement shining in her eyes as she turned her attention to the still Sherlock. Wanting to have your own fun, you peered at him as you stood beside him. "Think we can finally get a day's peace with him like that?" You asked, giggling to yourself as your eyes lightened with mischief.

Without further ado, you quickly raced off to his room, and after a few seconds of rummaging, walked out wearing one of his favorite dressing gowns. "You know I can see why he likes them so much. Gives him a more dramatic flare." You threw out the sides of the gown as if it were a cape, prompting both John and Mary to burst out laughing.

"It is called comfort, Y/N. And put that back." You scowled, pulling the gown off and throwing it in his face. He caught the fabric deftly before it had time to smack him in the face.

"So Sherlock? How does it feel to know you're somebody's best friend?" You asked, wanting to tease him further as you managed to sit atop the table despite the clutter.

"Ecstatic." He stated in a robotic tone, before moving to set down his untouched tea and striding to the living room to begin planning.

Your gaze flitted to the eyeball that was swimming in the liquid.

"Please tell me he drank from that." You said, your eyes gleaming with laughter as you glanced at John. His expression was enough to cause you to burst out into laughter as you followed after Sherlock in the living room.

You certainly didn't miss the way Sherlock blushed from embarrassment.

Though it did surprise you how much more pleasant and sweet you had been to the man. Oh, neither of you had held back on your arguing and bickering and reasoning.

Yet there was a certain softness to both of your tones, almost a tenderness to it that neither of you would admit was there.

                                             ————————–

Bridesmaid dresses.

The one item on your to do list as a maid of honor that was eating you alive. You had narrowed the colors of the dresses down to three, but you were still undecided.

Which was why you, Mary and somehow Sherlock were sitting in a bridal shop as you tried on dress after dress. Mary was giving you her undivided attention, while Sherlock was busy on his phone, most likely solving a case. Every now and then, when you would walk out wearing a new dress, he would make a negative comment about whatever you were wearing, making you try and argue back to which he would simply justify his reasoning.

And though you didn't want to admit it, he was always right.

Tired and a little grumpy, you exited the changing rooms in one more dress.

"What do you think about this one?" You said, giving a little twirl to allow the skirts of the skirt to flow about your legs. Mary gave a nod and smile of approval. Sherlock barely glanced up.

"The color washes you out."

Your temper flared and you practically growled at him as you snatched the phone from his hand. "Thats it! Everything is either too long or too short, or too conservative or not revealing enough, or the color washes me out or it makes my complexion seem dark." You poked a finger to his chest.

"Why don't you pick out something that you think will suit me and we can be done with this entire thing, because I'm getting bloody tired." Sherlock continued to look at you for a good few moments, but you didn't allow your gaze to falter as you stared back in defiance.

Finally he moved away, disappearing in the racks before returning with a dress within minutes.

"Here. Try this." He threw the dress in your direction, which you quickly caught and stomped off to try.

A few minutes later, having adjusted the dress to fit your body, you emerged from the changing room to stand in front of your friends. "Well?" You asked. You hadn't felt nervous when you had been trying on all the other dresses. But this was a dress Sherlock had picked out, and in the deepest parts of your cold heart, you wanted him to say something nice to you about it.

Mary clapped her hands in delight. "Oh! It looks beautiful on you Y/N." She said, smiling from ear to ear. You smiled at her before turning your gaze to Sherlock and looking at him expectantly.

He was staring at you, that much anyone could see. The intensity in his gaze caused you to shiver involuntarily, but you didn't look away. "It looks......acceptable." He finally said.

Mary let out a loud groan before lightly hitting Sherlock's shoulder. "Oh for God's sake Sherlock! Just tell the girl she looks gorgeous!" She exclaimed, noticing how your face fell just a little at the less than stellar compliment you had received.

Sherlock straightened as he frowned at Mary. "Beauty is a social construct. It’s based on society's ideas that have been ingrained into our systems and our psyches over time and have been accepted as the norm. I prefer to see Beauty as something that is in the eyes of the beholder." In the middle of his little speech you had moved to stand in front of him. Your gaze flickered to Mary, who seemed to give an encouraging nod.

You swallowed your nerves before speaking. "And what do your eyes beheld?" You asked, feeling shy and nervous at the same time as you met his cerulean gaze.

He looked back at you, with the same intensity that had been in your eyes when you had first walked out wearing the dress. He slowly stood so he was standing directly in front of you. Of course he had to tower over you given his height. But you found you liked it, as you tilted your head back to look at him.

"That you look ethereal."

The last word was barely out of his mouth before you felt a blush heating your entire face as you stared at him, stunned.

As if he had realized what he just said, and gathering his wits about him, Sherlock strode out of the shop. But not before he stopped at the window display in front of which you had been parading out in dresses.

Your eyes met through the clear glass, with a gentle yet hopeful smile playing about your lips. Sherlock's gaze seemed to soften as well as he looked at you through the glass. The moment only lasted for a few seconds before he walked off, leaving behind an ecstatic you and a stunned Mary.

                                             ————————–

You glared at the man in front of you before aiming a kick to his torso yet again.

"You raped her and then killed her to make sure she stayed quiet." Another kick, followed by a loud groan from the almost prone figure that lay on the carpeted floor. "You don't deserve an early death like the others did."

Another kick to his chest that sent him wheezing. You had definitely felt something move this time and knew you had at least cracked a rib. Still that did not stop you, not as you continued to kick him, your home-made steel tipped shoes allowing you to land one heavy blow after another.

You had already castrated him, now the only job was to finish him.

"You thought you could get away? That you would get off just because she died?!" The young victim had died on your watch. And despite knowing the man would go to jail given the evidence against him, you had snapped. He had stolen away the woman's life by beating her senseless.

Just like the man who had stolen your sister from you.

You stopped only once the man laid still. Reaching down with your gloved hand you pressed your fingers to his neck. Satisfied at the lack of a pulse, you pulled off your boots, and just as you had done with all other kills, you left the murder weapon at the scene.

Glancing down at the now dead male one last time with no sense of remorse in your gaze, you left his apartment.

                                             ————————–

Well the wedding had ended with no one dying.

Well someone had almost died but it had been a win since he hadn't died.

And as you watched Mary and John share a dance after Sherlock had dropped the startling news about Mary being pregnant, you felt as if your heart would truly burst from happiness.

Over the year since you had known the couple, you had begun to love them and see them as something of a family. Someone you were close to and adored with every fiber of your being.

And then there was Sherlock.

Sighing as you pulled on your coat, you wondered just what was it that existed between the two of you. He was perplexing, in the most intriguing of ways, and he challenged you every step of the way. Something that you loved, because you were a sadist when it came to making your life as complicated as possible.

Glancing one final time at the people still dancing at the wedding, you gave a small smile of content before stepping out into the night. It was Spring, but the temperature had dropped a little, prompting you to wrap your coat further around yourself. Thank goodness your heels were comfortable enough for you to walk without your feet hurting.

You had only made it a few paces when you caught sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance of the gardens.

"Sherlock?" You called out, startling the man enough to cough slightly where he had been smoking a cigarette. "I thought you were going to get rid of that habit." You frowned disapprovingly at him, to which he simply shrugged.

"The situation called for it." He stated, crushing the butt under his shoe and glancing in the direction of the hall where the dancing was still going strong. You glanced in the direction as well.

"Are you referring to the fact that John and Mary are married, or that they are going to have a baby?" You asked, recalling a conversation you had with Mary at how scared Sherlock had been when it came to the change that would come in his life because of John getting married.

He didn't reply, opting to simply stand where he was and keep looking at the hall. Finally, you sighed. Gently taking his hand, you began to lead him away.

Throughout your short walk to the train station neither of you let go of the other's hand. In a way, it was a sad day for you as well. Just like Sherlock had lost his best friend, you had lost Mary. They would both be living a separate life now.

Leaving you and Sherlock behind.

As soon as you reached the train station, and settled into your seats, you pulled off your shoes and curled up in your seat. You were still wearing your maid of honor dress underneath your coat. The train ride would last a couple of hours, which was what prompted you to settle your head against Sherlock's shoulder, take his hand in yours once more, and slowly begin to drift off to sleep.

Unknown to you, Sherlock had only smiled slightly at your gesture, before resting his own head on top of yours and dozing off as well.

                                             ————————–

The Castrator had struck again, and this time, Sherlock was going to catch her for sure.

While at other times he would be fascinated by the game of cat and mouse him and the killer had been playing, after John leaving, he needed a win.

So he went over every single employee file that had been given to him, going over them again and again to try and find a connection between the rape victims and the killer. His gaze flickered to the end of the document.

And he paused.

He stared long and hard. Unable to believe his eyes and yet it made so much sense.

File after file he opened and there it was again and again.

Sherlock had solved the mystery of the who, now the question was - Why?

                                             ————————–

You stood over the CEO slipping the bottle of poison into your pocket as you moved to climb out of the window from which you had entered. You glanced back, watching in satisfaction as his body twitched and foam frothed his mouth.

In a few moments he would be dead.

And he would deserve it.

He was a pedophile. He deserved death.

Jumping down to the ground which was only a few feet away, you brushed yourself off and made to walk off when a rough hand grasped your wrist.

You gasped, raising your other hand to strike whoever it was when you stopped.

"Sherlock?"

The man stared back at you, and though his face was clear of all emotions, there was storm brewing in his gorgeous blue eyes. A feeling of dread settled in your stomach as you realized that he had figured out who The Castrator was.

And now you had to face him.

"I didn't want to believe it at first. Its why I came here without any police." He admitted as he finally let you go. The two of you stood in front of one another, gazes never wavering.

"How did you figure it out?" You asked, your voice soft.

"You were the attending nurse for every rape victim who's attacker was killed. It had to be you. There was no other connection." The look in his eyes made you want to look away, yet you couldn't. You owed him an explanation.

"I don't understand Y/N. Why?" He finally asked the question to which you glanced around.

"Can we go back to your place?"

You had fully expected him to tell you off for even suggesting it, but he only nodded.

                                             ————————–

About twenty minutes later you were sitting in John's armchair while Sherlock occupied his own. You removed your gloves, setting them aside as you turned you gaze towards the empty hearth.

"My mother was raped when she was twenty years old. They were never able to catch the guy, and she was too scared to actually take any action against him because he was rich and had the ability to buy out any lawyer she could hire. So, she stayed quiet, never talked about it to anyone, and when I was born, claimed that she had adopted me." You felt him shift where he sat prompting you to raise your eyes to look at him and nod. "Yes Sherlock, I was the product of that rape. A constant reminder for my mother that the monster had effected her life forever."

You bit your lower lip as you tried to keep those haunting images of your mother's face away from the forefront of your mind. "She had good days and bad days. I have a feeling the rape caused some long-term psychological disorder, but I learned to survive with them. My life was dark and I didn't have a normal childhood with the way my mother treated me. Though that all went away when she gave birth to my sister, Thea." You smiled softly as your hand reached into your shirt to pull out a small locket with the picture of a sweet looking girl inside.

"I know you're not one for sentiment Sherlock, but from the moment she was born, Thea was my whole world. I had found my reason to live. There were days when my mother couldn't even get out of bed and I would take care of Thea. I was only eight, but I knew what I was doing. I bathed her. Changed her. Fed her. Played with her. I taught her everything. From her first steps, to helping with her homework."

Despite the lump in your throat and a break in your voice, you continued. "She was the light in my life. And there were times when she could even drag mother out of bed and for a few moments we would be a happy family."

You shook your head. "But it was nothing but an illusion." You muttered, sighing with the intensity of someone who carried the very world on their back.

"I came home one day from school, and Thea wasn't back yet. It started to get dark and I went out looking for her." You paused, inhaling deeply as if physically preparing yourself for what you were about to say next. "I came back after hours, only to find the police at the door and my mother sobbing hysterically. Apparently Thea had been snatched on her way to school that morning. Her captor had held her for hours, raping her repeatedly before dumping her body where he had picked her up from."

Despite the raw emotion in your voice and your eyes, there was not a single tear. Since the loss of your sister you hadn't cried. You figured you didn't have any more tears left. Just a gaping empty feeling in your chest that you had carried all these years.

"And just like that she was gone. My sweet baby sister." You whispered, clutching the necklace tighter in your palm as you sighed deeply, running a hand down your face in a wearied manner. "Mother blamed me, said Thea had been my responsibility because I was older. Last time I saw her, she tried to throw a bottle at my head, saying I was the one who deserved to die, not Thea." A shuddering gasp fell from your lips before you continued.

"And I agree with her. I should've been the one who died." A steely resolve stole into your voice as you allowed your eyes to finally met his. "The police managed to track down the man who killed Thea. I sneaked into his house one night, just to see him. And while I was going through one of his drawers I found this." You nodded towards the pendant you were still clutching. Tight enough that the shape was embedded in your skin. "He had kept it as a trophy. I heard the door opening, and hid. He was getting back from somewhere and was drunk."

Pursing your lips, your mind replayed the scene in your head, though this time you could feel Sherlock's comforting presence next to you. "Something inside me just snapped." You whispered, as your mind's eye played the scene out perfectly with a younger you as a participant and your older self watching.

Watching how you grabbed a fire poker and stepped out of the shadows, taking the fire poker from the stand near you.

Watching how he stepped into your line of sight and your eyes met.

For that one brief moment, a horrible realization rose within you.

That this had been the face your sister had seen before she died.

You watched as a scream fell from your lips, the same moment you lashed out with the poker and hit him again.....

....and again....

.....and again.....

.....and again......

                                             ————————–

"Y/N?"

You gasped, panting slightly as you returned from reliving your memory. Your head seemed to be spinning as your eyes found Sherlock.

When did he come to kneel in front of you? He had his hands wrapped around yours, which were still clutching the pendant. You loosened your hold around it slightly, though Sherlock made no move to pull back as he continued to look at you.

You gulped. "I killed him."

Silence followed your words. Sherlock simply stared at you, his blue gaze piercing into the very dark depths of your mind and heart.

"Why did you start killing again?" He finally asked, wanting to hear it from you. You gulped.

"There was this girl who came in. Rape victim. She had slashed her wrists because she couldn't live with the fact that her rapist had gotten away. And seeing her lying there, I was reminded of Thea so much that I just ....." You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

You sighed deeply as you leaned forward, your forehead touching your clasped hands. The silence seemed to stretch on until finally you whispered. "Are you going to have me arrested now?" You asked the question that had been weighing down on you.

Sherlock licked his lips, though you didn't see it, given your face was still bent over both your hands as if in prayer, his face was one of sympathy and......understanding almost.

"A normal person would yes, but then I'm not normal am I?" You glanced up at him, a startled expression on your face as he continued. "As a self-proclaimed sociopath I believe I can ignore what you have done because according to the dictionary I have no conscience."

You couldn't help yourself as you made a disbelieving sound. "That is bollocks and you know it Sherlock, you're a high functioning sociopath, get your facts straight." You teased him, recalling the many many times he had been called a psychopath by others only for Sherlock to correct them.

"I have one question though Y/N." His gaze was........uncertain, when he looked at you, prompting you to frown in confusion.

"Did you become friends with Mary to get close to me, so that I wouldn't suspect you?"

His words caused your entire body to seize up and your eyes widened. Multiple emotions played about your face, too quick for Sherlock to deduce. You frantically shook your head, lifting a hand to rest it against his cheek.

"Sherlock, please believe me when I say that I truly had no intentions of doing anything like that." You took a shuddering breath before continuing in earnest. "Please you have to believe me. After Thea died and my mother disowning me, meeting Mary was the one bright thing in my life. Then I became friends with John and through the both of them I was able to meet you." There was a brief pause in your words, but gaze was unwavering, and your features schooled into a determined expression as you continued.

"I know you will never accept me for who I am and what I have done, but hear me Sherlock Holmes. Our meeting was entirely up to fate and she delivered. I have met you, spent time with you, laughed with you, adored you." You hesitated before finishing. "And I have loved you from the moment I saw you."

He was silent as you stopped speaking, allowing the words to sink in for the both of you. Never before had you bared your soul to anyone like you had to Sherlock. Maybe it was because you had tasted that sweet sweet nectar of friendship, love and acceptance. And you didn't want to loose it.

And Sherlock knew that if you did loose the life you had built for yourself, you would loose yourself as well.

And he wasn't about to let that happen.

Not on his watch.

You began to speak again, words almost tumbling out as you did. "And I know it might seem irrational to you and illogical, but I've - I jus-mmph." Your words were cut off when Sherlock placed a hand at the back of your head, and pulled you down to kiss you. Your breath hitched and your eyes widened comically.

The kiss was over just as soon as it had begun.

The two of you blinked at one another. You could still feel the tingling sensation of having his lips pressed to yours. And Sherlock? He had taken just a taste of a kiss, and he was already craving more.

"I will speak to my brother." He finally said. "And I will make sure none of those murders are traced back to you." You blinked, not having expecting that. His hand was still at the back of your head, holding you in place, though you weren't complaining. Not when your nose was brushing against his and you could feel his warm breath every time he spoke.

"And I will also make sure that the legal system doesn't allow these monsters to slip away. Mycroft is the British government, he can make it happen."

His gaze turned serious as he continued. "But you will not kill again."

A small laugh fell from your lips as you closed your eyes and leaned forward once more, though this time you rested your forehead against his. "I never wanted to kill anyone Sherlock. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want those victims to feel helpless like Thea had felt in her final moments. And it made me feel helpless and....and alone." Your voice broke slightly at the end, causing a physical ache to form in Sherlock's chest, as if he could feel the pain you felt.

He loosened his hold on your hands, instead interlocking your fingers and keeping a firm grip.

"You're not alone anymore, Y/N." He reassured you.

This time, you were the one who initiated the kiss, allowing your lips to brush against his in an almost tender gesture. He reciprocated by returning the kiss with a slight pressure against your own. His tongue made a sudden swipe across your bottom lip, and he found the taste of you just as addicting as he did your scent, your laugh, your smile, your voice, your very presence.

You smiled at his eagerness, falling ever deeper into the embrace.

And as the kiss deepened, you could feel a small part of your shattered heart come together in one piece. It would take time for you to heal, but in time you would heal.

With him.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Ok for the request of Evan taking care of you while you are sick or on your period. I went with sick because I did do a period one a looong time ago. If I can go on the way back machine, I will resend it. Also, a weird tidbit about me is I have very vivid sexual dreams when I'm sick. I have no idea why 😂. Here you go my little horny she devils 😈

I'm sitting on the couch in my living room scrolling my recorded programs and trying to figure out what to watch. I decide on Dr. Pimple Popper. I hit play and there is Dr. Lee in all her adorableness. As I'm watching the background story of the first client, I suddenly get a wave of nausea. I brush it off as my phone chimes. I pick it up, having lost interest in the sob story of people that let things go for 25 years and then want to cry about it. Evan is texting me that he's almost to my house, but traffic is a bitch. I tell him to take his time and be safe. I'm just watching TV.

There is a lot of actual pimple popping going on in this episode and usually it's a very satisfying watch for me (I never claimed to not be weird). Usually, I can watch this shit with no problem. But, when a second, more intense wave of nausea comes over me, I know something isn't quite right. Once again, Evan is my distraction, as I hear him come through the front door.

"I'm finally fucking here.." he mumbles as he takes his jacket off and hangs it on the coatrack adjacent to my door.

"Hey babe" it comes out breathy because I'm trying not to barf all over myself. My tone makes him forget his grumpiness and look up at me.

"You look kinda green. No joke. Are you ok?"

I groan and sit on the edge of the couch, now taking breaths and letting them out slowly. My hand on my stomach. "I don't feel well.."

It's all I can manage before I'm up and running to the half bath off my living room. I skid in my socks as I try to stop and kneel in front of my toilet seat. Lifting the lid a split second before I release my lunch. Puke water pellets hitting my face from the impact.

I vaguely hear Evan come in the bathroom, but before I know it my stomach is lurching a second time, and I'm vomiting again. My hair is being held back from my face by one big gentle hand. The other hand is rubbing my upper back. Evan is kneeling next to me and whispering "It's ok, baby" in my ear. It's so soothing that I almost start sobbing. Having to spit several times into the toilet mutes my emotion enough for the moment to not lose my shit.

I slip away from the toilet bowl and sit on the floor. Evan getting up and taking action. He grabs a washcloth from the cabinet I keep in the bathroom. Sometimes, I take my makeup off downstairs when I'm lazy or don't want to miss a minute of whatever show I'm obsessed with watching. Evan soaks the washcloth in cold water and slings it around the back of my neck. He sits down next to me and takes my hand.

"Talk about a stomach bug" he says with concern in his voice.

"It's not really flu season. I probably just ate something bad." I answer with my eyes closed and my head resting against the wall. The wet washcloth feels fantastic.

"We both ate the same thing yesterday though"

I open my eyes to look at him and his face is thoughtful. "I'm ok, babe. Thanks for helping me"

He doesn't answer. He just stares at me.

"What?" I say

He gets a weird smirk on his face. "You aren't pregnant are you?" A little twinkle in his eye.

I practically roll my eyes into the back of my head and just give him a look.

He chuckles "What is that look for?"

"You sound hopeful. What is that about? Besides I'm about to start my period in a day or two. I'm sure I'm just sick or have food poisoning. It's par for the course I would get my period at the same time." Disdain in my voice.

I move to get up and Evan is quickly on his feet extending a hand to me, helping me to my feet. I look at the toilet and sigh. "I need to definitely clean that" I say.

"No, I will do it. Why don't you just go lay down in your bed." Evan to the rescue.

"Babe, thank you, but I would never ask you to clean up my barfy toilet..."

"That's total nonsense. Go upstairs and lay down. I'm here and I'm not leaving you tonight. I will clean up." When I give him a look he points out the door and says sternly "Go. Now."

"I'd kiss you but I have barf breath" I say to him as he ushers me out of the bathroom.

He chuckles "That's ok, I'll pass"

I laugh lazily as I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom. I don't even try to change my clothes. I pull the duvet down and climb in. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep. It always seems to be that way when I have tummy troubles.

I drift off and before I know it, I'm immersed in a very vivid dream about Evan. To say it isn't tame would be an understatement. I am completely naked on top of my bed. No covers. My hands are tied to the bedpost and I'm blindfolded. There's a ball gag in my mouth. Evan is on top of me, but in my dream I only see his bare naked ass and his muscular back. His hands are gripping my hips and his face is buried in my neck. He's slamming into me and the headboard keeps softly hitting the wall with each hard thrust. I'm screaming in pleasure, but the ball gag is muting the sound. Evan is whispering in my ear how good my pussy feels and then as his thrusts get sloppy and slow, he screams that he's coming and loud cries get muffled in the crook of my neck. His hips bucking along to the sound of his moans like he's dancing to his own sexy music.

In my dream, I start hearing Evan telling me to wake up. I feel a light shaking of my shoulder. I realize he's trying to wake me up, and with sadness, I let go of my beautiful dream and open my eyes. It's dark in my room except for the soft yellow glow of my bedside lamp. It lights up Evan's face just right. His brows are furrowed. He's holding a clear liquid in a glass. His other hand still on my shoulder.

"Babe are you in pain?" He asks me concerned

"No, why? I feel a bit better" I say as I realize that I actually do.

"You were moaning a lot and I was worried"

I look at his beautiful, sweet face and want to cry again because he's so adorable. He would shit his pants if I told him about my dream. Never in a million years would he stick a ball gag in my mouth. And his sweet thoughts were concern for me possibly being in pain.

I touch his face and tell him I love him.

"I love you too, but, how can you watch pimple Popper? No wonder you felt queasy" he kisses my forehead.

"Oh, sweetie, I watch that show all the time. It's not the show" I say between giggles.

"I brought you some sprite. I hope it settles your stomach. It was in your fridge.I didn't want to leave to get Vernors in case you needed me."

I smile up at him. "You're really such a sweetheart" I put my hand out and he takes it and gently kisses it.

"Bathroom is cleaned and I found some soup in your pantry if you feel hungry. But, for now just see if you can keep the sprite down. We'll go from there. You need water too."

"Baby, will you lay with me for a bit?" I ask him

He silently gets up and climbs over me and lays behind me, spooning me. He brushes my hair off my face and kisses my cheek. "You're fucking beautiful" he whispers in my ear.

"You better be careful with those words." I rock my butt into his crotch.

"You don't feel good, honey" he says it, but it's breathless.

"I wasn't in pain. I was dreaming about you fucking me" I blurt it out.

I don't need to rock into him again to feel the sudden hardness poking me.

"Mmm" Evan groans in my ear.

I take his hand and place it on my braless breast. My nipples poking into the palm of his hand. He squeezes gently. I push myself into the arch of his pelvis again. I look behind me and only one word needs to be said. Pleaded really. "Please?"

He wastes no time pulling down my leggings to my knees. He shimmies his pants down just far enough for his erection to spring free. One finger curls around the crotch of my lacy, stretchy panties, pulling them to the side. I move my top leg forward and he plunges into me. He cries out and I gasp.

Oh, fuck." He mutters. He starts pushing. Sliding his dick in and out of my soaking wet pussy. He pulls out completely and hovers behind me, purposely waiting for me to beg him.

"Baby, please.." I whine. He lets out a chuckle only the devil would be proud of and slams himself back into me. This time it's my turn to cuss and I let out a string of moans as his middle finger finds my clit and starts rubbing it. I feel like I won't last much longer. It might be my dream, but I feel over sensitive. It won't take me long. His free hand finds it's way under my head and he shoves his finger inside my mouth. I suck on it and wiggle my tongue against it.

"Oh shit! I'm not gonna last much longer baby..." Just like in my dream, his thrusts get sloppy. His finger is still pressed to my clit. I feel his body stiffen behind me. His thrusts are barely there. I start rocking my hips fast and hard. Going in circles, his massive dick rubbing against my walls and my clit circling around his finger. He helps as much as he can until we both lose control at the same time and start screaming in unison.

When we finish, he gets out of bed and grabs a towel out of my hamper. I watch my sexy man wipe my cum off his dick and then he comes over to me to help me clean up. We will worry about the rest of it later.

He shuts the light off and gets in bed with me again. This time just holding me and whispering sweet things into my ear as we drift off.

--

Over the course of the next few days, I oddly feel sick now and then. There's something nagging at the back of my mind, but I can't quite put a finger on it.

I find a weird show on TV about women that don't know they are pregnant until they are giving birth in their bathroom. I roll my eyes. Really?

One woman talks about having weird sexual dreams and being over sensitive and possibly feeling sick from day one.

I spring up from my laying position on my couch as I suddenly realize I haven't started my period yet.

(little twisty-twist at the end for ya folks, let me know if I should continue it)

--Writer Anon ❤️

writer anon blesses the tweam again

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter three

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

chapter zero, one, two

july 13, 2018

los angeles, california

orion

—

There are just over two weeks until Calum leaves for tour. It'll be the longest time we've spent apart since before we knew each other.

Sure, the first few months of our "relationship" — if you could've even called it that then — were spent apart, but I saw him almost every weekend for the first couple of months I was in Spain, and then once I was back in LA, he returned shortly thereafter and the rest is history.

All that to say, I'm devastated that he's leaving. I keep trying to tell myself it'll be the perfect chance to focus on LSAT prep and really do well in my classes this semester, but it's hard when the one person you want to talk to at the end of every shitty day and the one who I want to tell about every essay I get a 100 on will be gone for four months. Living together has put us in such close quarters that any time apart feels stiflingly lonely.

Today hasn't been that different. We both woke up around the same time, but I stayed in bed while he got up and got ready to head to rehearsal. He took Duke out so I didn't need to get up until I wanted to, made himself some semblance of a breakfast sandwich, and gave me a kiss goodbye.

I didn't really want to get out of bed this morning. For some reason, I've been feeling sick almost every other week it seems. My throat is sore, my body just aches, and I feel feverish. It's not flu season, which makes me assume it's just a cold, but I don't understand why it keeps coming back, so I made an appointment at my doctor's office to see if it's a sinus infection or something that we can make go away with antibiotics.

I got dressed in a random t-shirt from Calum's pile of "not quite dirty, but also not clean" clothes and a pair of cotton shorts, washed my face, and then left the house. I stopped at Starbucks for a coffee on my way to the doctor, just to feel a bit more awake, even though I know I'll inevitably feel like a zombie.

When I get to the doctor's office, it's a blur of blood draws, questions from nurses and techs, blood pressure cuffs and other measurements. I've never liked going to the doctor, and today is no different. Normally, I'd have asked Calum to come with me, but with the tour so close, I didn't want to take away from an important workday — even though I know he would've come with me if I asked.

Finally, after waiting in the sterile exam room for what feels like a few hours but was likely only a maximum of 15 minutes, my doctor and a nurse enter the room.

"Good morning, Orion!" He cheerily says.

"Good morning," I say, far less enthusiastically.

"Sorry to hear you're feeling a bit under the weather. Just so you know, we're not seeing anything too alarming just yet, but we're still waiting on your blood panel to get analyzed by the lab." He's rubbing a fresh blob of hand sanitizer into his skin while the nurse makes notes on her pad. It all feels very impersonal, part of a protocol, and almost like no one has thought to even talk to me.

"I wanted to ask," he continues. "Have you ever had a sinus infection?"

"I've had one, yeah."

"What did that feel like for you? Did it feel like this?"

I think back, trying to remember. I'd gotten one after weeks of country-hopping, following Calum around on tour. The plane germs and travel fatigue had gotten to me. I felt horrible, but the main thing I remember was how badly my face hurt. "It was different, I had a lot of sinus pain, this is just more generally... sick? Does that make sense?"

My doctor nods, and the nurse stays silent while she keeps writing. "I understand. Well, given your symptoms and since we haven't heard back from the lab on your blood panel, I'm going to go ahead and prescribe you some antibiotics. While we aren't sure that it's a sinus infection, I'd rather go ahead and treat you for that than wait and do nothing and find out this was our best bet all along."

I nod, my mouth feeling too dry to speak.

The nurse coughs from out of nowhere, and then she and the doctor exchange a few glances that seem to have a lot more meaning than I could ever understand. Then the doctor turns back to me.

"We also noticed that bruise along your collarbone. Is that kind of bruising normal for you?"

Involuntarily, my eyes widen. I can't believe he's just asked me that. "Uh," I start, my cheeks hot. "My uh, boyfriend... it's, it's not a bruise." I cough. I guess a hickey is a form of a bruise, but still.

The doctor's facial expression is unreadable but both he and the nurse then share more glances. "Got it, we're just trying to make sure your chart has all of your symptoms."

—

I leave the office $150 poorer and with a prescription for an antibiotic that I don't think is going to help me, and no answers in hand. The LA traffic makes my drive home take almost an entire hour, and all I want to do is take a nap.

I pull into the parking garage at the apartment building that Calum insisted was the right choice, parking in my space next to Cal's empty one. Our cars stick out in the garage, both older, beat up, and not luxury brands.

Living here wasn't my choice, at least not fully. I'd found us a building where a lot of other UCLA students live, mostly the richer ones whose parents pay for everything, closer to campus, but Cal didn't feel like he'd be able to live there with its central location and lack of security. He doesn't get followed often, but when he does, he doesn't like to cause too big of a scene.

The building we do live in, though, I can barely afford to pay a quarter of the rent for. Cal insisted it was fine, he could pay the whole rent himself without issue, but I didn't feel right letting him do that. We have it worked out so that all I do is pay utilities and occasionally a few hundred toward the actual rent, which even still I have a hard time letting happen, but Calum basically refused to let me set up my account on the autodraft payment for the rent.

I know that sounds like something lots of people would love, not needing to pay any part of the rent, I just hate feeling like I'm taking advantage of Calum and our situation. He kept saying that my education was the most important thing and once I'm making money and out of debt I can contribute as much as I want.

Regardless, I feel out of place parking my shitty car and wearing a worn out, partially dirty t-shirt where I live. We've been here for almost a year and we still don't have any friends in the building. I've gotten pretty familiar with Ron, the main security officer in the lobby, but aside from that, we're only met with snobby glares and passive aggressive elevator encounters.

Ready to just go lay down, I enter the lobby, swiping my fob and dodging a neighbor wearing a suit who’s angrily talking on the phone. Ron is behind the desk in the lobby, as usual.

“Morning,” I call to him. He waves happily back and I keep walking. Normally I’d stop and chat, ask if he’d like me to bring him a coffee, but I just don’t have it in me today.

When I get up to our apartment, Duke is waiting for me at the door. I sigh, wishing I could just go lay down, but he needs to go out. I feel like a zombie as I trudge through the apartment, grabbing his leash and poop bags, hooking him into his harness and then going back to the elevator.

By the time I’ve taken Duke out and gotten back to the apartment, my whole body aches and begs to rest. I turn on the TV and just pick something random from Netflix for white noise.

“C’mere,” I tell Duke, curling into a ball under the massive fuzzy blanket Crystal got me for Christmas last year. I pat a space on the couch next to me, and he hops up, nestling next to me and quickly settling.

I sigh, finally at ease, and lean my head back against the pillows on the couch.

read next chapter

—

a/n: guys i’m so happy people are reading this 🥹 shorter chapter. just leading up to the good stuff!!

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 16 and 17 - Angel and Demon

Summary: Al's got a little angel and demon on his shoulder. Angel usually wins. Why does the demon sound like his sister, and why does it sometimes have good ideas?

(Post ME3)

---

Why they ever decided to make the Citadel cold, Alistair didn’t know. Someone had to be a sadist.

His limp was bad that day as he left work, shivering as he zipped his jacket up tighter. The sun cycle had shifted to early evening, and people milled about as they left the hospital. All he wanted to do was get home and sleep under his nice warm blanket and maybe take some pain meds.

Instead, he got an eyeful of a turian standing against the wall, waiting for him.

“Having a rough day, Al?” Garrus pushed away from the wall, offering his arm for his husband to live on. Alistair took it gladly, sighing as the weight lessened on his bad leg. There was nothing like a turian to help balance his weight… and it helped he was handsome.

He chuckled softly as they walked home arm in arm. “On top of dealing with a few teenagers adjusting to their new amps, I had to vaccinate krogan triplets. I don’t know who was more upset by it, the kids, or their dad.”

His money was on the dad. Krogan adults did NOT like needles. The kids were smaller and easier to bribe with candy to look away. Dad, not so much – he had nearly fainted at the sight of the needle.

Luckily, there was room for him on the floor.

“Almost forgot flu season was coming up.” Garrus let out a thoughtful note as they stopped at a red light. “Any chance I could stop by and get one?”

Alistair snorted as he nudged against the turian’s side. “Last I checked, you were a grown up and my age limit for patients is 21.”

“Oh, no one will notice if I double up and squeak at people. The receptionist likes me anyway.” His husband chuckled as the light turned green. “Besides, I trust you with needles. Adult doctors don’t give band aids with hamsters on them.”

Not that Garrus really needed a band aid – he had a carapace that was nothing compared to a needle. With turians, you had to aim for the sensitive places between the plates. One of them, the easiest one, was near the neck. Naturally, they hated when he tried to get a needle there.

That space was looking pretty vulnerable…

“Don’t do it, Alistair, you love him and he’s walking you home.”

The little angel he liked to imagine hanging out on his shoulder was whispering in his ear, reminding him of his vows of commitment and love. It was a strong voice, one he knew very well and had gotten him out of trouble plenty of times.

The problem was, there was another one.

“It be funny.” The little demon he liked to imagine on his other shoulder sounded like Bo who didn’t try to hide her accent. “Come on, you love the noise he makes.”

He did…

“Do unto others, Alistair.”

Angel was making a point though…

Alistair shook his head, letting the little angel and demon representations of his judgement fade into the background. They were close to home now, and he was happy to fish his keys out of his pocket so they could get in and get warm.

This time, the angel won.

---

“I don’t know why you’re so damn insistent on my son not enlisting with the Alliance to get his amp when he’s old enough. They’ve helped generations of biotics!”

They also came up with torture camps, but… he was an L3, so his knowledge was somewhat secondhand.

Alistair felt a vein throb in his forehead as he used his best blank stare at the woman in front of him. She had come in with her teenage son to hear the results of his testing. Just like he had thought, the boy’s biotics were starting to get stronger due to puberty. He was going to need an amp sooner rather than later.

“Mom, I don’t want to enlist, I want to go to art school…” the boy’s voice was still cracking as he muttered his protest quietly. “I told you that…”

The woman gave him a dirty look. “You come from a line of service, Sean. Besides, you need boot camp to toughen you up.’

Ugh… she was one of those.

Alistair did his best to keep his face neutral as he cleared his throat. “While the Alliance does provide amps, they do require 4 years of service. He would also have to wait 2 years for the implant, and by then his symptoms could get worse. I would highly recommend going through a civilian clinic, especially given Sean doesn’t seem to want to serve.”

His heart went out to the kid – he knew what it was like to be stuck between having to choose something for your health and your passion. It had derailed a decade of his life and literally put him in his grave.

Sure, he had kind of saved the universe… but fuck, he hadn’t had much of a choice.

Sean’s mother rounded on him – Sean winced in the background. “Do you have a problem with military service, doctor? You don’t exactly sound supportive of it.”

“Tell her you lost your fucking leg saving the universe so her son doesn’t have to fucking enlist.”

His consciousness was in the red at the moment – it was on the tip of his tongue to say the least. Usually, he was glad when people didn’t put the pieces together, but here was where it actually might have been useful.

Who knew testosterone was enough to make you a 22nd century Tony Hawk…

“She’s scared for her son and proud of her family’s military service. Push the fact that civilian procedures have improved since 2186.”

The angel was back, pleading their case. It wasn’t as fun as telling her to fuck off… but she was the parent of his patient. Alistair felt his shoulders dip – the little angel and demon went for a ride within his mind’s eye – and he sighed.

“No, ma’am. I served in the Alliance before medical school.” He paused. “But I had to wait nearly a decade to go to medical school, and I wouldn’t want that for Sean.”

He looked towards the boy. “What type of art are you interested in?”

“Sculpture.” Sean winced – common reaction to his system’s biotics battering his system. He needed the procedure sooner rather than later. “It’s hard to work when my brain keeps trying to evict my eyeballs.”

Oof, he remembered that… it had plagued him until he was 20 and nearly dying from a brain melt.

“It would be in your best interest to get the procedure as soon as possible.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, your symptoms are only going to get worse the older you get.”

Normally, Alistair didn’t like scaring patients. He found it worked better when they came in with open eyes. But facts were facts – his patient was his priority and getting him an amp was the most important thing.

He held out his omni-tool, transferring the details. “I’m sending a referral to the clinic I refer my patients to for implants.”

At least the woman in front of him didn’t argue. Thank the Lord for that. It quieted the angel and the demon, at least for the moment. He was glad for it as he worked on filling out the referral so his patient could continue sculpting.

Sometimes, it was good to be a doctor and have personal history with those brain aches. And once again, the angel had won for the good of everyone in the room.

---

That night, it was freezing cold.

Thanks to that, Alistair’s limp was even more pronounced as he turned off the bathroom light and returned to his bedroom. The time on his omni-tool said it was sometime after 2, which meant he had 5 hours left to sleep. He very much wanted to do that as he padded in the darkness, hand on the wall.

Inside, Garrus hadn’t woken up, but he had rolled in such a way that he had taken the blankets by force. Just looking at him made the man cold as he limped to his side of the bed, hopping up in the hopes it would wake his husband up.

No dice – he was dead to the world.

A tug to the blanket didn’t exactly do much – turians were heavy, especially when they were asleep. Even using his prosthetic didn’t do anything to help. The blanket was firmly trapped under his carapace, far from where he needed it around his body.

“You can get a blanket from the closet.”

His consciousness sounded annoyingly perky as he sat there, staring at Garrus in the dark. He could picture the little angel, hovering over his shoulder and reminding him how to be a good husband. There was another blanket in the closet… but his leg hurt and walking didn’t sound fun.

“His neck is exposed. Go for it.”

Demon-Bo was whispering in his ear, pointing to the spot between the plates on Garrus’ neck where there was sensitive skin. It was just wide enough to brush a finger against and get the full effect.

He was so tired…

“Don’t do it!”

The angel was fighting, but for once Alistair tuned him out. Instead, he reached out his right hand. In the dark, he brushed the freezing cold finger of his prosthetic between the space of Garrus’ plates, prodding the sensitive skin with a feather light touch.

Naturally, the turian rocketed awake, releasing the blanket as he suppressed a full body shiver.

“What the…” He glanced around, eyes wide. “What…”

Alistair responded by tugging the blanket away, leaving enough for his husband once he settled back down. “Blanket thief.”

Sometimes, the demon won. But it was for a good cause, so it reduced the red points a little by his account.

Next to him, Garrus shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his husband and pulled him close. “You could’ve asked.”

“You’ve slept like you’re dead since 2186.” Alistair snorted as he cuddled closer to the turian, making sure his prosthetics were covered with blanket. “Someone’s going soft, babe.”

“And someone’s picking up red in his ledger.” Garrus yawned and nestled his mandibles against his husband’s shoulder. It wasn’t going to take him long to fall back asleep – probably a couple minutes. “So much for being a boy scout.”

The human chuckled as he closed his eyes and felt the turian’s heart against his back. “All’s fair in blankets and war.”

He was pretty sure that was how the saying went… but it was late and he didn’t really care. In the morning they could joke about his surprise attack and how he had disappointed the little angel on his shoulder, but that was for when the sun cycle was back to bright and shiny.

Until then… he was listening to demon-Bo and getting some sleep. He had one hell of a schedule in the morning.

But… score one for the demon for once.

[4lexnilsen]

“that’s true.   they really do sell everything on amazon.   what else do i need?   potting mix?”   he wonders absently,  pulling out his phone and opening the notes app to create a list of all the necessities that he should buy to ensure marcus’ survival.   he may despise the stubborn plant with a passion,  but he refuses to watch it die.   alex nilsen isn’t one to give up easily.   he will not be defeated by an orchid.   “yeah,  no,  we don’t want to jinx anything.   how does that work,  though?   just the other day,  i was telling david,  wow,  we survived the flu season.   what happens the day after that?   the kid starts sneezing.”   he shakes his head in disbelief.   he’s far from superstitious,  but this whole jinxing thing?   yeah,  that one’s legit.

“careful.   it’s hot.   gotta blow on it first.   would you like a teaspoon?”   cringing on the inside upon hearing abi’s faint,  little hiss,  he can definitely relate to this pain.   his own tongue tingling because he,  too,  is kind of impatient when it comes to sweet treats.   “funny how you were just asking about getting your tongue stuck to a cold railing and here we are.”   strangely enough,  the sensation is very similar to getting burned.   “ludwig and pete.”   another laugh sounds from him,  eyes twinkling in amusement.   he has a feeling it’ll quickly become their private joke.   “oh,  the nutcracker is definitely a masterpiece.   isn’t it crazy how tchaikovsky only wrote three ballets,  and they are the most famous ballets of all time?   that guy was mad talented.”   alex isn’t necessarily a fan of ballet,  prefers musical theater,  but he loves non-fiction books,  biographies,  and that’s why he knows so much about tchaikovsky.

“barbie nutcracker movie?   suddenly,  i’m upset i didn’t grow up with three younger sisters.   i’ve never seen that one.   how much entertainment am i missing out on?”   he asks with a laugh,  curious eyes studying the dimples in her cheek.   quickly coming to the conclusion that he’s never seen anything this adorable before.   he has to refrain from reaching across the table and poking them.   “not really,  but i’d love to go and see one with you.”   it’s what friends do,  right?   they hang out together.   besides,  it’ll be nice to get out of the house,  stop being such a hermit and do something fun again.

but then his expression grows sullen again,  the corners of his lips dropping.   he really did think that sarah was the one for him.   it’s probably the worst heartbreak of his life,  even more so because it’s laced with betrayal.   “thanks,  abi.   and thanks for hearing me out.   guess i didn’t know it,  but i really had to get it off my chest.”   and what his ego is most thankful for is the fact that she didn’t point out the snot under his nose or the tears on his cheeks,  let him keep his dignity.   not everyone would be this thoughtful.   “the fun way?   please,  do elaborate.   what are we going to do?   write sarah is a cheater on her house?”   there’s a hint of amusement in his face again,  his lips twitching.   this girl…   she knows exactly what to say to make him smile.

his blush was cute . abilene felt her heart flutter in her chest while alex continued to make the hot chocolate , happy when his gaze shifted so he couldn't see how her own cheeks flushed . she hadn't really interacted with him before now , but she had a soft spot for sweethearts like him . okay , maybe she had a little bit of a crush , but how could she not when he was tall and sweet and took such great care of the boys ?

❛ they sell everything on amazon , i'm sure it's there . ❜ abilene chuckled . ❛ also telling him that this isn't an icu is like telling your dog he can't get sick because you just paid the bills quickest way to an expensive vet bill and a half dead plant . ❜ she was teasing him and trying not to think of his cute smile or the smell of the hot chocolate . . . and perhaps she was royally failing at both .

when alex handed her the beverage she happily took the cup , warming her cold hands on the sides . she lifted the cup to her lips and while the drink was deliciously sweet she hissed slightly as it burnt just the tip of her tongue . ❛ that's great . i'll let ludwig and pete know that they're safe up in the closet for now . ❜ she smiled and giggled , her dimples showing on her cheeks .

❛ i like the nutcracker more . ❜ abilene admitted , though one was a romantic ballet and the other wasn't , and shrugged . ❛ it's more fun to play , although i'm usually a sucker for christmas spirit anyways . . . and the barbie nutcracker movie is way better than the swan lake movie . ❜ she laughed again and tried to take another sip of her drink , which had managed to cool down a little bit more . ❛ do you watch many ballets , alex ? i'm sure someone is doing the nutcracker , but i can reach out and see if there are others planned for the spring ? ❜

abilene felt her heart clench in her chest like someone had just reached in and crushed it in their fist . she reached forward to rest her small hand on his , giving it a squeeze of reassurance . she knew how it felt all too well , but that was a conversation for another day . ❛ i'm sorry , alex . no one deserves that . ❜

eager to try to get him away from all of those thoughts and keep him from crying again , abilene leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table . ❛ so , do we want to handle it the mature way , or the fun way ? one involves forgiveness and all of that bullshit , but the other is way more fun and rewarding . ❜

[everythingisawayoflife]

what the poets are like when they are sick except i’m right bc i know them personally

i’m bored and have extreme writers block, so here ya go, do with this what you will.

Neil:

Neil does not get sick often but when he does, its Bad™️

It starts small, usually a throat tickle but by the end of the day, he’s beaten to a pulp by a virus

He gets bad fevers but he always claims it’s because he runs warm (and he does, so fair point)

Neil gets eerily quiet - like you would almost swear he was dead from not talking so much

He becomes a completely different person, a shadow of himself. He hardly smiles, hardly laughs. He’s miserable.

He’s also extremely touch-starved and even though he won’t ask for them, cuddles are welcome despite a very weak protest of “I don’t want you to catch this”

He hates medicine - it tastes like crap

will come to class sick and even went to rehearsal w/ the flu at one point - he passed out

it takes him a while to get over something, usually a week or so before he can shake something entirely

Todd:

Todd has the WORST immune system in the world like a sickly Victorian child with consumption does not compare to him

You cannot even BREATHE in Todd’s direction after getting over a cold because Todd will catch it and it will be bad

Todd always got sick growing up but his parents thought it would go away growing up - they have never been more wrong

Todd likes to burrito himself in blankets because he runs extremely cold

Usually the first of the poets to get sick and then he gives his germs to Neil then Neil gives it to the others

Likes getting “Get Well Soon” cards

Inhales chicken noodle soup as if his life depended on it

congestion is the worst for him and he sounds very funny when he talks (neil thinks it’s cute)

likes being sung to sleep

Charlie:

when i say dramatic, i really mean dramatic. very over the top.

“CAMERON, I’B DYING! QUICK, WRITE DOWN MY WILL!”

sneezes snot rockets and its digusting

refuses medicine like a child

“you have to sweat it out”

gets sick from doing the dumbest things like jumping into cold water

just wants to be held but masks it over comedic exaggeration

his mom always took care of him when he fell ill, so really late at night if a headache or something is keeping him up, he cries because he’s homesick and wishes she was taking care of him

consumes cough drops like candy (he definitely's shouldn't be but he does b/c cameron just lets him and stopped trying to stop it a longgg time ago)

Knox:

out of all the poets, knox has the strongest immune system

he has terrible seasonal allergies tho, they're worse in the spring

the worst he's gotten sick was a bout of appendicitis where it DID burst and he nearly died

he thinks the scar makes him look cool (it doesn't)

he's usually the one making the soup runs and midnight trips to walgreens for the tylenol & ibuprofen

if knox does happen to get a passing virus, it ALWAYS lasts for no more than 24 hours

he acts completely normal, like up and walking around, functioning like a normal person

hates being coddled and he smacks people's hands away when they try to feel for a temperature

Pitts:

the biggest symptom he gets is a terrible cough (you can hear what's in his lungs and it's horrendous)

he overheats but doesn't get freezing like todd

he hates to be alone when he's sick, he starts to get very anxious

has no appetite at all whether it's a minor cold or full blown stomach flu he just can't stomach more than an apple and some water

had to get his tonsils taken out and instead of being miserable, he was happy he got to eat popsicles

while ear infections are more common among little kids, he's always managed to get one at least once a year

like knox, he never gets sick easily but when it does hit him, it's nothing too bad

has an extreme fear of needles and the doctor's office. he once became seriously feverish and delirious and when the poets tried taking him to the clinic at welton, he kicked charlie in the stomach for trying to move him. he still feels bad about it despite his memory of it being fuzzy

always loses his voice and has a special notebook he writes in when he needs to communicate with people

Meeks:

does not have the strongest immune system and gets sick abnormal times

develops stress fevers and getting him to lay down is quite a challenge

like neil, meeks will come to class sick and will pass out in the middle of a lesson

when he finally is confined to bed rest, he always has a book or some kind of brain teasers w/ him

honey lemon tea becomes his very best friend during his course of illness

usually the one diagnosing himself or his friends (actually owns a stethoscope he got from a friend of his dad's)

always brings a first aid kit to the poet cave b/c jagged rocks and risk of infection

he always sounds terrible, the congestion is even worse than todd's

always gets extreme migraines that make him cry

Cameron:

also bitches and moans when he gets sick - he and charlie are far more alike than he thinks

is the pretentious kid with a bell who rings for service - charlie chucked it out their window

uses absence as just one really long study hall and finishes all his homework AND manages to get ahead

when he comes back from being sick he always asks "didja miss me?" everyone says no (in a joking way but charlie actually means it)

doesn't get too terribly sick and not too often

when he does get sick, dizzy spells are the worst for him

like pitts, he always loses his voice no matter the scenario

actually hates drinking tea and will just pour honey straight down his throat

has a favorite medicine flavor - it's grape

BONUS: Keating always gives the boys a book when they return from being sick or comes to visit them if they end up in the hospital. He always writes a get-well note in the books.

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas - Day 2

Prompt (by @12-days-of-ficmas): i broke my ankle slipping on ice but hey at least the ER nurse/doctor is cute

Word Count: 1.5K

Story Description: (Y/N) truly believes working the night shift is a cursed practice. Every time she's scheduled during that time she has some sort of accident. This one just so happened to land her in the hospital.

Fandom: Chicago Med

Pairing: Will Halstead x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry, I posted so late. Was busy taking care of my grandma. But enjoy this short, cute story 💖

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No More Night Shifts

Working retail during the Christmas time was one of the most stressful things anyone can do. From the hustle and bustle of living in the city, to getting to work early and leaving late at night, to the freezing weather of the Chicago winter. It took a lunatic to agree to pull double shifts.

That crazy person just so happened to be (Y/N).

Her boss had asked her to fill in for a colleague that had come down with a very bad cold and could not make it in for her night shift. In the spur of the moment, she had said yes. But as she walked, the cold wind nipping at her skin, her feet sliding on the icy pavement, she contemplated returning home.

(Y/N) hated working the night shift at the store she worked in. Customers were rude, management always expected her to stay overtime without pay, and for some reason, she always got into some sort of accident when she was going back home.

And just as she had thought, the shift was a nightmare. She filled up her bad customer bingo. Which went something like this:

Mister ‘It doesn’t scan so I guess it’s free.”

Miss ‘My coupon is expired, but I’m gonna try to use it.”

The ‘You don’t mind using your employee for me, right?’ person.

The family excursion troop.

The no receipts returners.

And the people that think you’re a personal shopper.

By the time three in the morning rolled around, (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to collapse on the floor. Her whole body was sore and her eyes were tired from sleep. She cursed past her for agreeing to pick up that night shift.  She thought of being on her couch, a hot mug of tea in her hands, and bundled up with her thickest blanket with her boyfriend. She would be warm and comfortable, instead of absolutely miserable and cold.

But her daydreaming took a turn for the worst.

As she neared the bus stop, she didn’t notice the big puddle of sludge that had formed on the sidewalk. She slid on the pavement and her body collided with the frozen ground. One second she was walking and the other she was in the hospital.

***

In the Emergency Department of Gaffney Chicago Medical Center, doctors and nurses were up to their necks with patients. With the weather going down, many people succumbed to the illnesses the cold temperatures brought. Cases of colds, flu, and pneumonia trickled in and out of the hospital at a fast pace. The ED was never empty.

���How’re we doing, Maggie?” Will Halstead asked the charge nurse of the department.

“Well, we keep filling beds as soon as one empties,” she sighed. “It looks like it’s gonna be a very long winter season. Although it looks like tonight might be slowing down. You going home yet?”

 “I was just getting ready to do so,” he smiled tiredly. But the two were interrupted when the brick chirped. The doctor let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that his plans to finally lay down were just trampled. “Let me have it.”

“Incoming,” Maggie announced. “Trauma 1.”

“Talk to me,” Will told the paramedic as they walked in. That was before he took a good look at the patient.  “What happened?”

“Unconscious female, visible ankle fracture. Witness said she slid on ice and fell to the ground. She’s been in an out of consciousness. We have stabilized the right ankle with a splint and there is no sign of a spinal injury. The ID in her bag says her name is (Y/N) (Y/LN).”

“I know,” he breathed. “She’s my girlfriend.”

They all entered the room, other staff following suit. Tension built into the space as everyone noticed who it was. If they didn’t know (Y/N) personally, they knew of her and her involvement with the ED’s attending physician.

“Alright everyone, on my count,” he told the paramedics and nurses that would help transfer the woman from the gurney onto the hospital bed. “One, two, three.”

They all took hold of (Y/N)’s body, careful not to disrupt her ankle or any other injury she might’ve had. Behind them, Nurse Doris rolled in the X-Ray machine, handing Will and April a lead apron before she instructed the rest of the staff to exit the room, as well as the paramedics.

“So, it looks like it’s a bimalleolar fracture,” the doctor announced as the image came up on the screen. “Thankfully, the ankle is not dislocated so immobilizing it with a cast should do the trick.”

“Alright, I’ll get the kit.”

“Okay, let’s also get a full blood workup, and a head CT,” Will told April. “Now, pupillary response is good. Heartbeat is steady. She’s breathing on her own which is a good sign. Let’s start an IV drip with 2.5 mg of morphine…”  

 “Wait, Will, look,” she said. “She’s waking up.”

(Y/N)’s eyes started fluttering open, the bright lights worsening the headache she already had. Her whole body felt mangled and sore, and she was sure it was not from the long day at work.

“Hey, welcome back,” a voice said. “Can you tell us your name and where you are?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I’m in a hospital because god doesn’t exist.”

When she finally opened her eyes, she suddenly did not mind that she was in the hospital. Before her, she was met with a handsome red-haired doctor. He smiled at her and she could feel butterflies forming in her stomach.

But her pleasantly surprised feelings quickly shifted to ones of embarrassment, when she noticed who it was.

“He-ey, doctor,” she stammered. “Funny running into you here.”

“Good to see your sense of humor wasn’t impaired,” he chuckled brightly. “Now, do you remember what happened?”

“I was walking to the bus stop to go back home when I slipped on a puddle of sludgy ice and now I’m here.”

“Okay. And other than your ankle and your head, does anything else hurt?” 

“My pride,” she grumbled. “I told you, the night shift is cursed.”

“It sounds to me that you were distracted and you fell,” he laughed. “I don’t think there is any curse.”

“Yet you all believe people turn crazy because of the full moon.”

“Well, your memory seems to be okay. So, I’m gonna leave you with April so she can get your bloodwork to the lab,” Will told (Y/N), a kind smile on his face. His initial panic subsided when she woke up and recognized who they both were.

“Can you stay?” (Y/N) pleaded softly.

“I promise to be gentle,” April chuckled. If there was one thing she knew about her friend it was how desperately afraid of needles she was. “I’ll draw your blood really quickly and then I’ll sneak in the IV. How does that sound?”

“Like you’re gonna still gonna stick me with needles.”

“At least the pain in your ankle is gonna stop,” Will offered. But (Y/N)’s fear was still evident on her face. “Alright, just focus on me, babe. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Just don’t let go of my hand.”

April quickly got to work as Will distracted (Y/N) with mindless chatter of what they would do during Christmas – spend the day in pjs, drink hot chocolate in front of the fire, and exchange gifts even though they told each other not to get presents. And before she knew it, the IV dripping pain medication into her system has started doing its job.

“There,” April announced, calling the couple’s attention. “We’re all done. I’ll be back soon to take you to the CT scan – for precaution -- and to bring your results. I’ll bring by the kit in a bit.”

“Thanks, April.”

The nurse smiled back at the couple in response, closing the curtains on them as she exited.

“So, what’s the verdict, doc? Am I gonna lose my leg?”

“Nah, just 9 to 12 weeks with a cast. You’ll have to come in a coupled of times to do x-rays, just to make sure the bone’s healing as it should,” Will explained. “But don’t worry, we don’t have to amputate.”

“Well, no late-night shifts for me in a while,” she joked. “Maybe that’s what I needed to break the curse, huh?”   

“What?” he laughed. “Slipping on ice and spending your morning in the ED?” 

“Hey, at least the doctor is cute,” she said before she placed a kiss on his lips.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, baby. It was pretty scary to see you unconscious on a stretcher like that.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Halstead. It would take a lot more to bring me down.” 

“Alright, (Y/L/N). Settle down,” he smiled at her. Will had been terrified that something worse would have happened, but if a little slip is the worst that could happen, he could live with that. “Take this as a little Christmas gift – you won’t have to work for some time.” 

“NO NIGHT SHIFTS!” (Y/N) exclaimed excitedly. “It’s a Christmas miracle!” 

Taglist: @beckiej0073-blog @thatgirljayy

[sparks-stephen]

forever winter | stephen strange x fem!reader

in which Y/N and Stephen meet again after a few years.

based on this ask (i know it’s a bit different, but i hope i did it justice :))

warnings: none just fluff. overuse of because.

Winter nights have always been hard on Y/N. She walked around the Manhattan, trying to enjoy herself. She did not know what it was but she was always so down during these time.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe it’s the holidays but all she can think about is how the lights make her head hurt.

Maybe it’s the snow and how it’s way too cold and the roads are too slippery.

Or maybe it’s the people. The people around her being so joyous and festive because of the holidays. They look so happy and together while Y/N stands there all alone.

Y/N walked back to her apartment building from the hospital. As she approached the building, she saw a man sitting on the porch, waiting for someone.

She got closer and saw that the man was someone she knew, from a lifetime ago, it seems.

“Stephen? What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Y/N. I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by for a chat,” he replied.

“Oh, do you to come inside?” she asked and he nodded.

Back in the day when the two were working at the same hospital, the two were very close, so close in fact that the two were often mistaken as a couple.

But Stephen always denied it. It hurt, but it did not hurt as much as when he started hanging out with Christine. The two became closer as Stephen and Y/N grew farther.

And then about 6 months later, Y/N heard about Stephen’s car crash. She wanted to visit him at his apartment, often hearing Christine complaining to their colleagues about him throwing his life away. But at this point, Y/N and Stephen barely talked anymore. Just nodding at each other in passing. But she didn’t, being afraid of pissing him off and burying the friendship the two once had. And the next she heard was he was living in the Sanctum Sanctorum, doing god knows what.

The two were in the elevator and though it was a very awkward ride, it was somewhat comforting. The elevator came into a halt and the two stepped out once the doors opened.

The two went inside her apartment and she pointed at the coat rack so he can hang his coat there as she hanged hers there.

“So, how are you, Stephen?”

“Doing well, all things considered. You?”

“Very busy. You know, kids getting the flu because of the season,” she chuckled and Stephen smiled.

“Y/N, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure?”

“Why didn’t you visit me when I have the accident? I mean I know it’s been years but-”

“You and Christine were together. I couldn’t impose myself to you, Stephen,” Y/N suddenly interjected.

“Me and Cristine were never together, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t talked much during that time Stephen.”

“Because you distanced yourself, Y/N.”

“Because I thought you and Christine were together, Stephen.”

There was a comfortable silence that enveloped the room, before Stephen started talking once more.

“You know, I’ve always liked you, even when we were in the hospital.”

“But you always denied that we were a couple?”

“Because we are not couple, Y/N. No matter how much I wanted us to be one. But I was not sure how you’d feel about it, Y/N.”

“I would have loved to be in a relationship with you, Stephen,” she replied, while laughing slightly.

“And how about now?” Stephen asked, hopefully.

“I don’t see why not. I mean still like you, Stephen.”

He beamed at her as she went over to where she was sitting. He held his hand out for him and she grabbed it, standing up in the process.

Stephen placed his hand on Y/N’s cheek as he leaned in for a kiss, which she wholeheartedly accepted.

The two stayed there for a while and when they pulled apart, they leaned their foreheads towards each other.

“Now that you have kissed me, maybe you can take me out for dinner?” Y/N joked.

“Of course, my lady,” Stephen said as he held his arm out for Y/N. She looped her arm to his and the two made it out the apartment. Starting a relationship that was way overdue.

He says he doesn’t believe anything much he hears these days.

I say, “Believe in one thing, I won’t go away.”

♡ ♡ ♡

(taglist in the reblog)

add yourself to my taglist

[purplekiwis]

OMG YES! Damaged goods blurb! Can you do a fluff one where one of them is sick with seasonal flu and the other has to take care of them, but they're being stubborn about it because that's just what they do and how they are 🤧

Okay, okay... here she is! It's a bit meh I think, but I hope you like it! 🥰

*

Harry is sick and grumpy, and Y/N takes care of him (from the Damaged Goods AU)

Harry feels miserable.

He’s worse than miserable, really,

because he has a cold… or is it the flu?! He has never known to spot the differences between the two, but he recognized all of the early signs, of course...

As per usual, it started with nothing but a sore throat one morning when he woke up, that ended up lingering throughout the whole day, then came a headache, and the tiredness, and the chills…

It wasn’t so unbearable at first… but the symptoms only kept getting worse and worse as the hours went by, to the point of leaving him with no choice but to skip his classes in favor of staying in bed… suffering.

The worst part about it? He wasn’t even suffering at home – where his mom could be taking her lips to his forehead every so often to see if he had a fever, and bringing him bowls of soup and fruit cubes on that same familiar bedtray that had accompanied him throughout all his periods of sickness.

Mom would also be making sure he stayed hydrated and took his medicine in time... which by the way, he wasn’t taking any. Logically speaking, Harry knew he should have gone to a pharmacy by now, to get something to make him feel better, but how? When he couldn't even muster the will to get up and go downstairs to fill the empty water bottle perched on his nightstand.

He couldn’t move.

Every single inch of his body hurt.

And now he was starting to get shivery under his bedclothes... for fucks sake.

If only he had Pepper, his spaniel mutt puppy, around to snuggle and keep his body cozy and warm like a hot water bag... then perhaps Harry would've been in a better mood. Yeah, definitely. Pepper would've let him bury his snotty face into its soft fur, and not even think to complain if its owner left a puddle of guck all over said fur.

But well, Pepper isn't there.

And being sick sucks.

Especially because Harry really wants some cuddles... and it hasn't been helping his case whatsoever that in this trying day of illness, his mind has done nothing but think of Y/N.

Pondering over what outfit she must have worn that day and what she might be up to while he’s laying there on his deathbed. He also wonders if she has noticed his absence, and if so… if she’s worried about him.

He huffs once he checks his phone again and realizes there are still no messages from her. She doesn’t have to check on him. He knows that, but he can't help that he likes to be cared for sometimes… and as it turns out illness has a tendency to turn him into a big, needy baby... who really wants to have Y/N taking care of him. It would be so good. She could play with his hair the way he likes, give him forehead kisses, hold his hand…

Harry sighs out loud. Her company would be even better than Pepper's, he believes... although Harry isn't so sure Y/N would enjoy having his snot on her as much as his trusty pup would, but that’s beside the point.

It’s even more beside the point because he knows she's not coming to see him.

She’s mad at him, he recalls now. Stupidly so, if he's allowed to think that - he did nothing wrong, after all. She asked him for a “brutally honest opinion” on a design work she was doing for one of her classes, and he simply gave her what she asked for, plain as that. But of course, then she didn’t like what he had to say and got sulky. Just girls being girls, he guesses…

Harry should've known better than to think that would stop her from coming to see him, though. His girl was a little box of surprises, after all... a true master in the art of keeping him on his toes.

She showed up only half an hour after she was done with her classes... softly knocking on his door before poking her head inside with a smile, only for her jaw to drop in shock at the absolute misery that oozed from his pores.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked sickly, almost comically. Harry could have laughed at it if he wasn't so utterly lethargic. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think?” The girl huffed, shutting the bedroom door behind her and heading towards the end of the bed to get a good look at him, hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Here I was, going about my day thinking you had slept in for being a bum, only to find out through your friends that you were unwell.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his downright amusement at her worried state. Y/N was worried about him? Well then, perhaps her irritation had passed and she had forgiven him… which meant maybe he’d get to have those cuddles he wanted so bad. “I thought you were mad at me?” He poked, eyebrows arching teasingly the best they could with the little energy the muscles on his face could muster.

“Well, I was and am now even more.” She punctuated. “But I still care, obviously. How am I supposed to leave you by yourself when you look like that?” She put down the bag she was holding at the edge of the bed and kneeled next to it on the floor.

“Look like what?” He frowned again. “All snotty and gross?”

“Precisely… and an awful lot like Rudolph the reindeer as well.” Y/N added, with a soft pat to the tip of his swollen, red nose.

Harry smiled at that, right before his eyes fell on the bag over his bed. “Did you go to the store to get those creepy sheet masks you wanted?”

“Huh?” She muttured confused, before noticing where he was looking at. “Oh no, um… these are just some things I got for you. Just vitamins and those gummies for when you have a sore throat, and also uh…” Y/N's cheeks went a little hot. “I got some chicken soup from the buffet restaurant as well, you know… the one next to the drug store. I thought it might do you good…”

“You went to get all that stuff for me?” Harry asked, Y/N hummed happily in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with tenderness. “Y/N... you shouldn't have. That shit is so expensive, and I'm fine, really. It's just a cold. You dont have to worry, let alone take care of me.”

“No offence, but I think I do.” The girl challenged his statement, picking up the halfway used toilet paper roll placed on his nightstand. “For a start, you shouldn’t even be using this to blow your nose. It’ll only irritate your skin and make it more sore.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s such a mum thing to say…” He grumbled in attempt to mask the fact that the secret big, needy baby in him was loving every single bit of the mom talk, and the same applies to when Y/N clicked her tongue chastisingly once he stubbornly snatched the roll off her hand and pulled out some more paper.

She took the chance that he had moved his arm to move a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his pillow. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” She asked, lovingly running her digits through his unwashed curls. They felt a little waxy and knotty in her hands, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. She just wanted to make him feel better in any way she could. So she kept playing with his hair, scratching at the roots and combing her fingers through his strands just the way she knew he reveled in - only breaking contact once she was almost certain that he had fallen asleep on her... However, as soon as Y/N began to pull her hand away to check her phone, Harry let out a whine and bumped his forehead against her wrist, in a silent request for her to keep going. “You're such a baby sometimes…” Y/N whispered, proceeding to fulfill his wish.

“Mhm... your baby.” He sighed happily.

Y/N smiled to herself at the state of pure bliss Harry was in. So utterly distracted by the slow puffy nature of his breaths, that she almost didnt notice that his droopy eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. He cleared his throat painfully. “Y/N... can I have one of those gummies you got? My throat hurts and I really want to try one.”

Y/N let out a tiny chuckle at the pleading tone he'd used, nodding as she got up to grab the bottle from the bag. She threw it at him playfully to catch midair, knowing that his reflexes were outstanding. “Ohh these seem nice. I love lemon and honey flavored shit.” He told her whilst inspecting the label.

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help but to grin, feeling quite proud of herself for picking the right flavor. But her smile quickly melted into an expression of concern once she watched Harry crack open the bottle and carelessly throw a bunch of gummies into his mouth. “Harry! What are you- that’s not candy! You can’t eat them by the handful!”

“Oi, chill out… it’s just gummies. What wrong could it do?” He asked as he blithely chewed them. Words coming out garbled since he was speaking in between a mouthful.

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps there could be anesthetics in them... but who knows? It was just a thought.” Y/N ironized.

“Really?” He made a wry face similar to hers, inspecting the label closer. “Do you think we can get high on this shit?” He smirked, still chewing as he rolled the container around to check the ingredients in the back. “Cause I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a pretty good afternoon plan to me...” He half joked, cracking the bottle open again and dropping a couple more gummies in his palm.

Y/N heaved at the suggestion. “I think it’s more likely that you get a terrible bellyache, and we end up in the ER...”

“You really think so?” Harry asked teasingly, taking another gummy to his mouth.

“Okay, that's enough. Give me that.” Y/N demanded, pushing for him to pass the container, but all he did was shake his head with a mischievous, defiant smirk. The girl rolled her eyes at him. “You know what? Fine.” She shrugged. “Eat as many as you want. Can't wait to watch you shit the bed once those anesthetics give you a loose bottom.”

He chuckled at the warning, amused. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you come get them from me?” He questioned, but before he could prepare himself Y/N jumped on the bed to try and take the bottle away from his hands, what forced him to abruptly sit up and hold it over his head just so she couldn’t reach it from where she sat. “That was... real cute. Is that all you got, hm?”

Y/N huffed and crawled over his legs until she was practically on his lap. Seeing right through his facade once he happily handed off the gummies without putting up a fight and wrapped his arms around her middle to pull her in for a hug instead. “You must think you're so sly, don't you?” She mumbled in question, going back to petting his hair. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve just said so… I don't mind your germs.”

“I was trying to behave to avoid getting you sick, actually…”

“Yeah right...” Y/N grumbled, dropping her head on his shoulder for a moment. “But I guess, since you've already passed me the germs and all... might as well just give me a kiss, no?” She proposed shyly, waiting for Harry to make the move. He did, pulling away slightly and placing his lips in hers softly. “Mm, more.” She pouted.

“Greedy.” He joshed, pecking the girl's lips again, and again... and once more for good measure. The damage was already done, after all... they might as well just keep doing it. “I feel disgusting, though. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve at least taken a shower and brushed my teeth. Can’t believe you still want to kiss me when I am like this.”

Y/N scratched at the frizzy hairs of his nape. “I promise you don't smell or look nearly as bad as you think you do… and you taste like lemon and honey so, that’s nice.” Harry distrustfully scrunched up his nose at her allegation, sniffing up some in the process before his digits rushed to grab some more toilet paper. He took it to his nose, blowing noisily. “Alright, snotty boy…” Y/N laughed, swiftly crawling off his lap. “How about I go downstairs to plate up our soup while you pick a movie for us to watch as we eat? It can be one of those “guy movies” and all, I promise I won't complain... today only, cause I'm giving you privilege for being sick.”

His eyes strayed towards you with interest, the lower half of his face still covered behind the poorly ripped toilet paper sheets. “I was actually thinking more like a musical or a pixar movie, maybe?”

“God, Harry.” Y/N gasped in awe. “I swear I've never felt more attracted to you in my life. Snot and everything.”

[yoimix]

— lovesickness

[ note: timeskip! ]

TOORU sneezes the minute he walks into the house, rubbing at an already-red nose and face. it’s the seasonal change, the onset of winter and its nasty habit of spreading colds and fevers.

unfortunately, your boyfriend whines twice as much when he’s sick. it’s not like you’re any more agreeable when you’re sick, so you’re not really sure how this is supposed to work.

as if on cue, you sneeze right after tooru does, making him narrow his eyes at you from the doorway.

“you too, huh?”

you nod, head still throbbing. tooru flashes you a smile, uncalled for in the predicament you’re in. he quickly takes off his shoes, dropping his bag by the entrance and wasting no time to engulf you in a hug. the contact isn’t as unwelcome as you thought it would be. he’s positively toasty.

“what are you smiling for, stupid?” you huff. “there’s no one to do the dishes now.”

“oh, were you planning to make me do them? after working all day—toiling away like the slave to capitalism i am? i already knew you were cruel, y/n-chan. you don’t have to stop because of a silly little cold.”

“tooru, for the love of god, shut up.”

his arms wrap tighter around you, the warmth of his breath fanning on your shoulder. tooru does give the warmest hugs. it lessens your worrying a bit. he can get fussy over illnesses, especially as an athlete, but he’ll always refuse to show it to you, till you end up by his side with a wet cloth and a bowl of hot rice porridge. a small cold really isn’t the end of the world. but for someone like tooru, every little thing adds up. the body is a temple. (and he’s got quite the marvelous temple, might you add.) 

“is it okay for us to touch each other like this?” you ask out loud.

“how else do you want us to touch?”

“idiot. that’s not what i meant. we’re- we’re sick, you know? and you shouldn’t be in contact with sick people. i’ve been hearing a lot of news about the flu lately.”

“ah, come on. we’re both sick. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“our colds adds up and we get sicker?”

“math was never your strong suit, y/n-chan. it’s kind of cute, don’t worry.”

“i’ll hit you.” you huff, turning around to get a clear look at his face. it’s tired but bright just enough when he looks at you. the splotches of red over his face make him look like a child—and that’s exactly what he is sometimes—but right now, you’re more worried about his lax attitude.

“tooru, at least take a bath. if you get any sicker, it’ll be hard on you.”

you can see his eyes soften. a simple gesture or sentence from you gets him to coo at you but of course, nothing good ever comes out of that pretty mouth of his.

“you know i’ve been suffering from a sickness for a long time.”

“what?”

“it’s called lovesickness.”

a smack to his forehead makes him yelp in pain, and his arms loosen around you. 

“you’re so mean! and here i thought, you’d give me a kiss.”

you shift uncomfortably, your palm still against his forehead. “tooru, i think you have a fever.”

“so no kiss? that’s a totally lame reason.”

you sigh, glancing at your pouting boyfriend. living with oikawa tooru is not the easiest task. but sometimes, it can be rewarding.

you give in, pressing your lips to his—and somehow, taking him by surprise. tooru’s fingers run circles on your back in a motion so gentle, and you run your fingers through his hair the way he likes it. so there you are in the end, entangled on your shared couch under a blanket, your head resting against his chest and a comfort movie playing on the tv. even like this, you’ve got each other. 

you realize it everyday living with tooru; it’s nice to love and to be loved.

[tumbling-darkling]

Miraculous Ghosts

Danny and friends visit Paris and come across trouble, as well as the cities local superheroes.

Lately, Hawkmoth has been recycling villains. There are only so many people in Paris and not everyone gets emotionally vulnerable strongly enough or long enough to be akumatized. Those that do, and commonly like Mr. Pidgeon, usually had a certain fixation that was easy to exploit. The thing was, both Marienette and Chat Noir already knew their weakness, the items that would most likely get akumatized, the whole schtick. So the battles were really fast and easy.

A new face always had to be met with caution, the lack of knowledge regarding the person was dangerous and if the pair wasn’t careful, they could end up losing the battle. And their Miraculous.

With the start of summer came tourist season, and tourists could be victims of akumatization. Which seemed to be the case within the first week. 3 villains, all new faces, but the pair had gotten lucky with the similar powers that the heroes had faced before and the three were all defeated in a timely manner.

There was a short week of nothing happening.

And then all hell broke loose.

—————————————————————

Marienette knew the start of the tourist season had begun just based on the filled streets of strange faces, sunglasses, cameras, and the use of foreign languages. This also was noticed based on how busy her parents' shop had become, and how rarely she was managing to escape outside to enjoy some of summer's freedom. The good thing was she was able to brush up on some of her English, since the tourists usually spoke the common American language and the experience was always welcome to help boost her grades in the upcoming year. Even if it was a few months away.

She’d figured out the best way to sneak off during any attacks was to ‘use the bathroom’ or ‘accidently’ make a mess and excuse herself to clean up. It had worked during the first week and she didn’t have to do anything the past week since Hawkmoth seemed to take a break. She finished serving a young pair of Americans, a tall girl with orange hair, and a lanky boy nearly the same height with raven black hair.

She had to admit, some Americans had a certain charm, but the bustle of the kitchen quickly caught her attention as she was back to serving the next person in line.

Just as Chloe waltzed in, basically knocking the american boy over as she strutted to the front of the line, causing people to cast glares in her direction. The boy hissed when he fell, the American girl offering to help him up in English as he shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off as Marienette went to deal with the walking form of pure rich privilege. “Urg, Dupain-Cheng’s dingy little cafe? Of course she works here, it just smells like burnt bread.” She huffed.

Marienette bristled, but put on her customer service smile, noticing the poor Americans victim to Chloe leaving the shop. She was hoping to offer them a replacement after dealing with Chloe but it was a little late now. “Ma’am, unless you are here to pick up an order, you will have to wait in line like everyone else.” She strained.

“Ma’am? I am Chloe Dubois! I don’t need to wait in line like some sort of peasant! Just give me whatever you didn’t make.”

Marienette had to swallow down any returning insults and put down one of their most expensive items, handing it over with a clearly strained smile, “have a nice day.”

Chloe huffed with her baked goods in hand but left as soon as she appeared, allowing Marienette some relief. Very little damage. A little annoyance but nothing worthy of an akuma-.

An explosion was heard from outside, and Marienette groaned internally.

She just had to jinx it.

—————————————————————

Ladybug dove off to the side as the villain shot out a ray of white, plasma-like energy. Adrien, fighting as Chat Noir, and his partner were having a hell of a time with this dude. He spotted the chaos on the news, the villain calling himself ‘Black Hole’ and giving his poor Lady a hard time. When he finally arrived on the scene, he wasn’t able to do much either.

The villain was basically a godly powerhouse, floating in the air, shooting burning rays of heated plasma, or even ice! Ice and plasma! Sometimes he MIXED the two beams to create an even WORSE beam! Whenever either of the heroes got close enough to land a hit, their punches and kicks would go right through him. Then he would DISAPPEAR. REAPPEARING AND LANDING ANOTHER HEAVY BLOW. He would fly around like gravity was non-existent, and these abilities didn’t stop there. Every so often, he would yank out this thermos looking thing and shoot out these wormholes. Or… possibly black holes. Calling them black holes felt wrong though… since they glowed green and swirled before disappearing after a few moments.

The villain's outfit was a change of pace too. It was impossible to figure out his age since he was completely covered in a thick fabric material that reminded him of space suits. Yet looked a lot less bulky than actual space suits, thin yet sturdy metal covered his forearms, and formed a backpack that was attached by a wide metal collar that spread to his collarbone and slightly covered his shoulders, as well as a metal strap that wrapped around right under his chest. A plated, metal belt circled his waist with a clip for the green black hole thermos, and thigh high boots with a similar fabric to his suit covered most of his legs, thick plastic looking platform soles attached at the feet. Black bands wrapped around the ankles of the boots. A helmet covered his entire face, a metal frame covering the bottom half like a muzzle while the top was a tinted glass dome following the shape of his head, the inside of it entirely black except for the eerie glow of a single, left eye. The helmet had a tube on the back of the helmet that connected to his backpack, but neither he or Ladybug could figure out if it was essential or for decoration. His entire colouring was monotone, much bleaker than their previous villains. His suit was black, the boots, forearm cuffs, belt, backpack and collar were all a middle shade of grey, the only flash of colour being the glow of the single toxic green eye amongst the darkness of the helmet.

The dude was disturbing. He didn’t make any sound, in fact he seemed to ABSORB the sound around him. Like they were in space.

Paris was getting destroyed more and more by the second and the two didn’t know what to do. The Lady’s lucky charm turned into a thermos, which she didn’t have a clue how to use in the situation in front of them. Maybe it was a hint? A clue about soup? Or getting the villains thermos?

The problem with the last idea was that neither he or Ladybug could TOUCH this villain. And each of them were getting worse and worse for wear by the second. He could tell Ladybug was getting ready to get some sort of help, but who could make something untouchable… touchable? Chat even tried to use cataclysm on the villain's thermos while Ladybug had distracted him, but he twisted at the last moments and grabbed Chat's hand, draining cataclysm before he tossed him aside like it was nothing.

Another blast of plasma sent the two tumbling away from each other, and then a blast of ice caught Chat off guard. Cold shot up his arm as his muscles convulsed, a scream caught in his throat as the ice trapped his arm in such a tight and sturdy prison. He twisted to try and use his free arm to claw the other out of the ice, a shadow in the corner of his vision causing him to twist and jolt in surprise as the villain stood right in front of him. The glowing green eye was cold as it bore into him, and the villain grew closer and closer, drifting off the ground and absorbing every noise around him, the air around them dropping to freezing temperatures. Chats breath formed in front of him as gasps, panic clear in the quick breaths, fear intensifying as the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and blood roaring through his veins.

The villain's hand shot out and grabbed his free one- the one with his miraculous.

Chat heard Ladybug cry out as the villain gripped onto the ring, a quick glance showing she too was trapped.

That she was next.

Chat tried to keep his fingers curled, but he was battered and weak, and the villain hadn’t even broken a sweat during their fight. Prying open his fingers was easy, the ring vulnerable. This was it. He used cataclysm too soon and now he was powerless. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t save anyone. He was a failure. This was the end of Paris.

They lost.

—————————————————————

Fucking. Vlad.

This entire trip had Danny on edge and it was all because of Vlad.

At first, he thought maybe, for once, Vlad wasn’t being a piece of shit when offering the family a fully paid trip to France for two weeks. He was suspicious. He probably just wanted the family out of town to do some shady shit. But a two week trip to France wasn’t the WORST thing a man could do. Especially in comparison to kidnapping and cloning.

But then his parents got sick. A common flu. Right before the trip. And they wanted Jazz and him to experience Paris. Then Vlad offered to be a chaperone.

It was all a play to get Danny alone for two weeks and try and manipulate him.

He did manage to get Tucker and Sam to tag along, something about friends being his family and the two unused tickets his parents left behind. But Vlad knew how to separate the group. How to corner Danny at the worst moments and whisper annoying remarks in his ear as he tried to get away.

He survived a week. He only had one more week to go. Tucker and Sam were off checking out some places for lunch while Jazz and Danny went to pick up sweets for everyone to share after their meal.

Vlad was off doing who knew what so Danny had put him to the back of his mind.

The cafe they found was… well it smelled incredible. There were so many baked goods on display and the air was filled with the warm and sweet smell of the goodies. He let Jazz do most of the talking, she wanted to practice her French and Danny had recently discovered that being dubbed the ghost king meant that now he had a natural grasp on all verbal languages, including the dead ones. This meant his speech in French was almost flawless, and his understanding was like he was listening to someone speak English. He couldn’t read other languages though, just speak them. He was told though by a few locals he had an odd accent. It wasn’t an american one, just… odd.

So Jazz ordered the treats and the pair was headed out to meet Danny’s friends.

Then some blonde girl with way too much make-up basically knocked him to the ground, not even sending him a glance that indicated she knew what she did. It was annoying, but he dealt with bullies on a daily basis back at Amity Park. Well… used to. But he knew better than to waste any thought on some jerk like her. He sadly looked at the ruined cat paw shaped cookies, the icing ruined and the cookies crushed under his weight when he fell.

Standing up with the help of Jazz, they left the shop as Danny insisted on finding somewhere to wash off the icing stuck to his shirt. He liked this shirt too… he hoped it wouldn’t stain too badly. It was better than ectoplasm at least, that stuff needed to be burned out, there was no such thing as washing out ectoplasm.

Jazz asked to help, but Danny brushed her off, telling her he could easily clean himself off by himself.

And then Vlad chose that moment to corner him.

—————————————————————

“Hello Daniel.”

Danny splashed water wildly as he spun around to glare at the older Halfa, hissing out an ‘Ancients!’ in surprise. “What the hell, Vlad?” He spat, “sneaking up on a kid in the bathroom? I should just call the police and tell them about all that stalking you like to do.”

“Aren’t you tired of this childish game?” He hummed.

“Not really, seeing as I’m a child and I love games,” Danny sneered.

“I’m older, more experienced, and stronger. I am also patient, little badger. And it’s easy to wear you down. By the end of this trip, you are going to be begging to be my-.”

“Son? Pet? Little slave that does everything you ask? Sorry, Vladdy, but I ain’t the type to listen to crazy fruit loops. How about you go enjoy the company of your French rich friends like that Agreste dude instead of stalking me and trying to get with my mom and kill my dad. Might do you some good to make more friends than just your cat.”

“Oh Daniel, you throw your petty insults but I know ways to break you even further. You know, a lot of accidents happen in Paris. Terrible things.”

Danny felt his eyes flash as he spun on his heel, “listen to me, if you even consider-!”

“Not to mention your brand new ghostly responsibilities as… the ghost king? Imagine that. A child as the king. You don’t even know everything about ghosts.”

“Neither do you!” Danny spat.

“Oh but I know so much more. And I could easily teach you-.”

“Just shut up!”

“When you mess up, when the ghost zone begins to fall apart, you will wish you took my offer, but I may not be as forgiving when that happens.”

“I said shut up!”

“And we both know the moment the ghost zone falls apart, so will this world. All because a boy became king and didn’t take help he was so graciously offered.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Something inside him shifted, and Danny suddenly felt his mind cloud, a deep voice echoed his mind.

“A cruel man harassing a young teen that wants nothing to do with him. A shame when someone can’t take a hint.

Black Hole. I am Hawkmoth. I can give you the power to show this old man that he never should consider looking in your direction ever again.

All I ask is for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Do this for me, and Vlad Masters will never be an issue for you ever again.”

Danny’s clouded mind and building rage smirked at the offer, his voice echoing as he glanced up at Vlad who was giving him a confused look. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Darkness engulfed him and then his memory began to fail him.

—————————————————————

A boomerang slammed into Black Hole’s head, causing it to jerk to the side and a small crack formed on the glass that was hit. The metal boomerang dropped to the ground and Black Hole slowly looked down at it as a robotic voice cried out from it, “ghost detected!” And then a recorded voice spouted out, “take that, spook!”

Black Hole’s head slightly tilted at the noise it made, a hand subconsciously rubbing the crack it left behind. Then he twisted his gaze back to Chat Noir, going back to taking the hero’s miraculous.

Then a shout came from behind Black Hole and Chat caught the eyes of a teenage girl yelling and holding a bat over her head. Black Hole twisted, his body turning that transparent look whenever Chat or Ladybug had tried to hit him before, and Chat knew that it was useless. “No! Stop! Get out of here-!” He screamed at the citizen, but stopped when the bat connected with the villain's head and sent him flying into a wall.

Chat was at a loss for words for once in his life, watching the villain slowly pry himself from the wall from being hit by a baseball bat when he and Lady couldn’t land a single hit. He looked back at the citizen and shrieked as she raised the bat above her head and swung down at him, flinching and squeezing his eyes shut. She hit something, causing it to shatter and then- his hand was free!

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand in awe and then back at the girl, “who the heck are you?”

She huffed, dropping the bat casually on her shoulder, “Sam Manson. Friend of the idiot that didn’t do his research before taking a trip here. I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier.”

Chat blinked, “you- you know that’s your friend? And knew this would happen?”

Sam shrugged, “the booo-merang is never wrong. And yeah, my friend there is not exactly the most emotionally stable person on the planet. Sorry it took us a while to get here. You guys really do move fast.”

Chat just opened and closed his mouth a few times, then yelled as she suddenly swung the bat again and smacked the villain in the gut as he got close during their exchange, knocking him sideways but not down like the first time. Black Hole turned again, making a snarling sound before he was blasted by some sort of green ray and sent flying sideways, rolling along the pavement before smashing into a car. Another teen jogged over with Ladybug behind him, dropping his hands to his knees as he wheezed, “I have ran… way too much for this to be considered a vacation.”

“M’Lady-, what is going on?” Chat asked.

“This is Tucker, and his friend Sam, and they know how to help,” Ladybug quickly explained, glancing back at Black Hole. “We need to draw his attention and get that thermos off of him, then Sam and Tucker can use this,” she held up the thermos from her lucky charm, “and we can get his akuma.”

“Akuma is in the thermos, knock it off,” Chat summarized. He heard his miraculous beeping, a sign he was close to his limit.

“Let’s end this fast.”

—————————————————————

Ladybug held the booo-merang in one hand as the two teens and Chat drew Black Hole’s attention, the teens equipped with weapons that seemed to get past some of Black Holes abilities.

She narrowed her gaze, waiting for the perfect moment, then threw the weapon, watching it arch in the air then knock the thermos off of the villain's waist. The thermos clattered to the ground and drew his attention, he quickly twisted and dove to try and retrieve it, which was when a bright beam erupted from the polka dot thermos Ladybug had given the teens. The beam caught the villain's legs and he was tugged back, his form pulling towards it like taffy as he twisted and a horrid scream of anger burst from him. He tried to escape it, flailing and reaching for anything to hang on to, but in a matter of seconds he was pulled into the canister and Sam slammed the lid shut. The screaming stopped and Ladybug made her way over to Black Hole’s thermos, stomping on it and crushing it, releasing the Akuma hidden inside. With a flick of her wrist her lucky charm turned back into its original form, dumping Black Hole onto the street, then the butterfly was caught and purified, and another click of her miraculous, she let the little bug flutter away harmlessly. With a shout, ‘Miraculous Ladybug!’, everything around them was engulfed in black and red as the damages were undone around them.

At last, the villain's form was released of Hawkmoth's influence and it left a lanky teen laying on the street. He slowly sat up with a groan and a hand to his head and she then realized it was the same teen as from the shop. So once again, this was Chloe’s fault. She turned her attention to the two teens that helped her, noticing Chat let out a hasty farewell and thanks and disappeared around a corner. “Thank you, both of you. Without your help… well, without your help we may have lost that battle. But how in the world did you do that?”

“What the fuck just happened?” The teen groaned, “I feel like the booo-merang smacked me in the head like… fifty times.”

“That’s because I may have smacked you a few times with the fenton creep stick,” Sam shrugged as she helped her friend up who gave her wide eyes in return.

“You fucking what?”

Tucker took a step forward to answer Ladybug’s question, “let's just say back in our town, we have very specific supervillains that have abilities that make it hard for regular attacks to land. So we have specialized gear. Sam and I did a bit of research before heading here and figured if any of us got Akumatized, we may reflect some of those traits.”

“I… see…” Ladybug hummed, “and where did you say you were all from?” The three cast a few glances between each other, but before any of them could answer, her miraculous beeped angrily as she quickly realized she was out of time. “Thank you again for your help, if we could meet again to exchange some of that tech to make sure this never happens again-,” she quickly tried to set up a meet up before Sam held up a hand.

“This won’t happen again. A lot of what happened here is very unique to Amity, so once we finish our vacation, you won’t see this kind of thing ever again.”

Ladybug only had more questions but the angry beeping only forced her to nod and bid a quick farewell before getting out of sight to let Tiki take a rest. Marienette held out a few macaroons for Tiki as her thoughts swirled in her head. The questions about the odd American trio and how they knew how to deal with a villain as unique as Black Hole.

She may be able to corner them later. They did say they had to ‘finish their vacation.’

And in the meantime, it was time to do some research on this place called ‘Amity’.

—————————————————————

Danny didn’t remember a lot of what happened while he was the villain, Black Hole. It was like a dream, he kinda remembered the feeling, vague details, but nothing specific.

What he wished he remembered was whatever he did to Vlad. He must have done something because his memories cut out right after Vlad harassed him in the bathroom and after the event, the froot loop avoided him during the entire trip. Even refused to make eye contact!

What he would give just for a few seconds of that memory! Or for someone to have recorded it!

For now though he got to reap the rewards, flashing his eyes green when Vlad would glance over and causing the man to flinch. Oh man, he was going to abuse this newfound intimidation ability till the bitter end.