#will regina stick the landing on adding faces? who knows; i certainly don't

[actiaslunaris]

Last Sentence Tag Game

Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line you want. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

Tagged by @academicgangster​! <3

Last line:

He remembers he never had combed his hair later in mid-afternoon.

Where I left off in art:

[ID: photo of sketchy outlines of no-faced men drawn with pencil on white paper; a vague hint to kissing on the cheek is implied]

Tagging: @ahria-lethe​, @cosmictuesdays​, @mswyrr​, and @terribleteej​

[blznbaby]

Man Flu

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC (Marcella)

Audience: PG. Humor and Fluff. Some sexual content. Nothing crazy.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixleberry Studios.

Masterlist

Tags: @museofbooks @callmetippytumbles @cocomaxley @hopefulmoonobject @pixieferry @i-choose-liam @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn

Marcella laid sexily on the enormous bed. Scented candles flickered brightly, casting a warm glow to illuminate the dim room while emitting a delicious scent. Liam would walk in any minute now from his business trip in Italy. It had been days since she’d been in her husband’s arms and she was anxiously awaiting his return. She looked stunning in her sheer, white, beaded silk nightgown that hugged her curves in all the right places and smelled heavenly courtesy to the perfume Liam had gifted her on their most recent wedding anniversary. The bedroom door slowly opened, heralding her king’s return. She smiled, her body tingling with anticipation. Liam went straight for the bed and sprawled out, eyes closed, still clothed in his royal regalia. Shoes and all. She wasn’t even sure if he noticed she was there. “Liam?” she asked cautiously. He let out a small moan, but didn’t stir. Marcella looked with concern at her husband who lay unmoving on the bed. “Liam, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Liam opened his eyes. “Marcella…” he moaned hoarsely. “Don't come too close, my love. I’m dying…”

“You're what?” she asked, alarmed.

“I’m sick. I’m dying…” he repeated, coughing a few times to emphasize his point before closing his eyes again. She gave him a quick once over. He certainly didn’t look like he was dying. In fact, he didn’t even look extremely ill, just a slight flush in his cheeks and a groan or two. She got up to fetch him a cup of tea in hopes that it would make him feel a little less like he was “dying.” She blew out the candles with a sigh on her way out. Apparently this wasn’t going to be the romantic night she’d envisioned for them at all.

ooOoo

“Marcella, I need to go to the hospital!”

“Liam, your temperature is only slightly elevated,” she replied, stroking his forehead with an amused smile.

“That thermometer must be broken then,” he declared, sulking. Marcella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“It works perfectly fine, Liam. You’re not dying, you just have a cold, you'll live.” He didn’t look as though he believed her. “Marcella, you don't feel how I’m feeling right now!” he protested pathetically. Such a drama king. When she said her vows ‘in sickness and in health,’ she never imagined this. Last night, Liam had come down with a cold, as demonstrated by his runny/stuffy nose, sore throat, cough, and watery eyes, but from the way he’d been acting, you would have thought the man had caught the plague. Marcella’s expert diagnosis: man flu. The dreaded godfather of all ailments, which takes over the male species at any given time, resulting in grouchiness, moodiness, and general feeling of feebleness and pathetic whining and her brave, confident, resilient husband, the King of Cordonia wasn’t immune to such an affliction. And now she must also suffer. She tried calling for backup, but Liam refused all help from friends and staff not wanting to infect the population. He hadn’t left their bedroom since the night prior, curled up in bed like some kind of overly-large fetus, watching crappy talk shows and requesting honey and lemon drinks in the most pathetic voice she’d ever heard whenever she got anywhere near the vicinity of the landing. He was working her nerves.

“Marcella?” Liam coughed as she bypassed the bedroom on her way to the linen closet. “My love, is that you?” Oh for heaven’s sake. “Yes, Liam. It’s me.”

There he was in the bed, his head laid on a cloud of fluffy pillows, buried under a dozen blankets with Chance curled up at his side. His perfectly placed hair was now a disheveled mess, sticking up in every direction. He sniffled, wiping at his red nose with a tissue before tossing it in the bedside trashcan along with the rest of the discarded tissues. “What now, Liam?” she asked with a sigh. He looked up at her pitifully. “I’d think that in my vulnerable state, you’d speak to me a bit more nicely.”

“You have a cold, Liam.”

“I have the flu,” he replied, looking wounded.

“Yeah, man flu,” she countered. Just then Liam’s phone rang. Marcella answered since her husband claimed to be “too weak” to pick up. It was Drake asking how his best friend was holding up.

“He’s fine. Just over reacting a little,” Marcella said with a grin.

“I am not. You all may very well need a new king.”

“I swear you get more and more dramatic with each day that passes. You’re turning into Regina.” She smiled to herself, knowing he really hated to even consider being anything like the woman.

“Your words wound me more than any case of the flu ever could.”

Marcella sighed again as she entered the room. This was the fifth time in the last hour that Liam had called for her. She tried to rearrange her face into an expression of sympathy, which wasn’t too hard, actually. She wasn’t used to Liam being like this and the sight of him was rather pitiful. He pointed toward the end of the bed. “My feet are cold.” She shook her head. “That’s because you’ve pulled the blankets all the way up and around your chin.” He just looked at her, eyes begging for help. She rearranged his blankets, covering his feet and looked up to see him holding the banana she had brought to him earlier at his request, his look, perplexed, like he couldn’t figure out what to do with it. He held it out to her, a pleading look on his face.

“Seriously? I know you're sick and the king and all, but I know even you can handle peeling a banana. It’s not that hard.” He just sniffled and coughed, and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Oh, give it here,” she sighed. “You big baby.”

“And could you please cut it up?” he added as she took the fruit from him and cut it up on the small tray that also held his untouched tea. “And be sure to drink up,” she added as she cut the banana. Liam looked at the teacup like it had grown horns. “But…no straw?”

“Since when the hell do you need a straw to drink tea?!” A coughing fit overtook the stricken king, and in between coughs he managed to choke out, “please,” blinking his watery eyes. “And not just any straw. My favorite straw.” Marcella put on a tight smile and mumbled something under her breath as she went to retrieve his swirly straw. When she returned Liam was cocooned so far down into the blankets that only his messy dark hair was visible. “Liam?” she whispered. No answer. She slipped out of the room shutting the door carefully and did a victory dance when she made it to the stairs. “Marcella! My feet are cold again!”

ooOoo

Marcella sighed and shut her eyes as she heard the ringing in her ears. Why did she give Liam that damn bell?! He’d been ringing it incessantly for two days now. She thought it would be better than him bellowing her name every five minutes. She was wrong. He was the king for goodness sake! The man who in his thirty years of life had endured more pain and suffering to last a lifetime, but somehow the common cold brought him to his knees. Every little symptom was cause for complaint and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. She heard the bell ring again, followed by a pitiful moan. “Marcella…” She entered the room, hands on her hips. “You rang, Your Majesty?”

“My love, could you please close the curtains? I’m afraid the sunlight is hurting my sensitive eyes.” She bit her lip and nodded. “Sure.” She walked over and pulled the curtains closed.

“But perhaps not that much. I enjoy a little bit of light.” Her fists clenched as she pulled the curtains open a bit, nearly pulling them off the rod with her solid grip. “Better?”

“Perfect.” He offered her a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“Anything else I can get you before I go? Lemon syrup? Cough drops? I dunno…cupcakes?”

He looked at her, stunned. “You’re leaving?”

“Liam," she sighed. "I’ve been waiting on you hand and foot for three days now. I have to get back to work and make sure things are in order. With Regina and Leo away there's been no one to help cover our duties.”

“I see. Well, my apologies for being so much trouble,” he mumbled.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew what he was doing and it wasn’t going to work. She handed him his phone. “If you need me, call me and I’ll come right back.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he muttered. “I’m sure I can fend for myself in my declining state.” Against her better judgement, she pressed a kiss to his lips. She didn’t want to risk getting sick, but she knew a kiss would placate him for a bit. “You’ll be fine.” She assured him.

“I beg to differ. I feel like I’m on my deathbed and my head is going to explode. I still think I need to go to the hospital.”

“For the thousandth time, you do not need to go to the hospital. It's just the common cold.”

“There’s nothing common about it.” He scoffed. “Why isn't there a cure for this infernal disease?” he cried in frustration.

“First of all, it isn’t a disease and the only cure is to ride this thing out and try to relieve the symptoms with over the counter drugs like we’ve been doing.”

“I suppose I’ll just suffer then.”

"Whatever you say, my king."

Liam missed Marcella the moment she walked out the door, but then again he always missed her, but he was especially missing the fact that there was no one to take care of him now. Sure he could call on the wait staff, but he wanted his wife. He decided that the common cold was far worse than any other affliction he’d ever faced. Being confined in the bed for three days was absolute hell. He let out a sigh. He was bored. Maybe there was something on tv that would distract him from his pain and suffering. Where’s the remote? He looked on the bed, but didn’t see it. Damn it.

ooOoo

“Hey, Hawkins,” Drake greeted when he spotted Marcella in the hallway. “How’s Liam? Still under the weather?”

“Yeah. And being a huge baby.”

“And you’re surprised?” Said the new voice in the hallway. Olivia. “Men are such pussies when they’re sick.”

“Hey! I resent that.” Drake objected.

“Oh, please. You’re the worst of them all. Remember when you had strep throat?” Olivia grinned.

“I couldn’t swallow.”

“I found you laying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.”

He shrugged. “It was painful.”

Just then Marcella’s cell phone rang and she saw the name on the screen. Liam. “Speak of the devil,” she said, answering the phone. “Yes, love?”

“I can’t find the remote control.”

“Maybe it fell on the floor or under the bed. Did you look there?”

“I didn't. I’m far too weak and lightheaded.” Marcella pinched the bridge of her nose. She heard him groan.

“Ah, there it is!” she breathed a sigh of relief. “…but…it’s out of reach.”

“Liam, you’re insane if you think I’m coming back just to pick up the remote.”

“Please, my love. I’m losing my mind with boredom.” She sighed. Heavily. “Fine. I’ll also bring you some chicken soup from the kitchens.”

“Thank you, my love.”

She entered the bedroom and found the remote three feet from the bed, handing it to the sick king. “Feeling any better?” she asked. “I am now that you’re here,” he smiled and she couldn’t help but to smile back at him. He was a royal pain in the ass, but he was her royal pain in the ass. “Here’s your soup. Eat up whenever you’re hungry,” she held it up for him to see and placed it on the nightstand. “You’re not going to feed it to me?” She swore that if she didn’t love the man so much she’d probably kill him.

Eventually, Liam gathered up the strength to sit up and eat the soup. He sighed. No spoon. He rung the bell, then remembered that no one would come. Marcella wasn’t there. He sighed again. The soup was now only lukewarm at best. He stared at the door, just the thought of having to go all the way downstairs to warm up the soup and get a spoon was too much to bear. He was far too weak.

Marcella groaned as she looked at the stack of paperwork that had accumulated on her desk over the last few days. She wasn’t even fifteen minutes in before her phone rang. “Yes, Liam?”

“The soup is cold…and I don’t have a spoon.”

She closed her eyes. “And I’m assuming there’s no chance of you going to the kitchen to warm it up and get a spoon.”

“I can’t even consider it in my debilitated state. I’m likely to fall down the stairs if I attempt such a thing.” She rubbed her temple and prayed for patience. He was tap dancing on her last nerve. You love him, you love him, you love him, she chanted in her head serving as a reminder that she vowed to love him no matter what. The worst part was that she knew he would do it for her, but of course, she wouldn’t be the big baby that he was being. But then, she wasn’t a man either. She shook her head. He’s not himself and he will be the caring, charming self-assured man you married in no time. She opened her eyes and glanced at the pile of paperwork, maybe she could use a break.

Marcella entered the bedroom to retrieve the lukewarm soup and she knew he was watching her ass as she left. He was so predictable, no matter how sick he claimed to be. She returned a short time later with piping hot soup and a spoon, agreeing to feed it to him to escape the mountain of paperwork. Liam smiled at her, and took her hand, the act the most natural thing in the world to him and she used her free hand to feed him the soup until he had his fill.

“Thank you for taking care of me, my love. I know I haven’t been the easiest patient.”

“You’re welcome. I know you would do the same for me.”

“I’d do anything for you.” He replied softly. And she knew it was the truth. “And I’m sorry that my intense illness ruined our evening the other night. You looked absolutely gorgeous in that nightgown. I wanted you so bad. But I didn’t want you to get sick too…”

“Yes, I wouldn’t have wanted to catch your uh…’intense illness,’” she agreed. “But its okay, Liam. I love you, and the only thing I want is for you to get better.”

“I love you too,” he replied softly, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feel of each other. Before long, Liam had fallen asleep, letting out a small snore, and she smiled at her beloved, hypochondriac husband as she left to go back to work.

ooOoo

The next morning, Liam was feeling a bit better. He watched his wife as she slept, looking like a peaceful, beautiful angel and felt a tinge of guilt for acting like a self-absorbed fool. He thanked his lucky stars for Marcella's remarkable restraint, obviously taking her vows 'in sickness and in health' very seriously as evidenced to the fact that she hadn't killed him. She was amazing and he needed her to know how grateful he was to be her husband. How fortunate he was to get to spend his life with her. How amazing his life had been since she became a part of it. He threw the covers back and, feeling a little unsteady, forced himself out of bed. He quickly and quietly showered, dressed, and headed downstairs.

Liam entered their bedroom with a tray of eggs, bacon, fruit, his famous Belgian waffles, and a cup of coffee made just how he knew she liked it. He could have easily called the cook, but he wanted to do this for her. With every move, he felt himself gaining more strength and energy. He was beginning to feel much better. I can do anything for her. 

“Liam..you...what are you doing out of bed?” Marcella stammered as she sat up.

“Good morning, my love." He sat the tray on the table and sat beside her on the bed. “You’ve cared for me for three days and I wanted to do something to show you my gratitude. Please forgive me for my extreme behavior.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his lips. “There’s nothing to forgive. Like I said before, I know you would have done the same for me. Even though, I wouldn't act like the big baby you were being.” They chuckled and his hand cupped her check, thumb caressing her soft skin, as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes. “Just know that I will never take you for granted. You have made me happier than I've ever thought possible. Getting to wake up next to you every morning and have you fall asleep in my arms every night is nothing short of amazing. I am the luckiest man in the world to be able to call you my wife.” God I love this man. She looked into his dark eyes. The eyes she got to wake up to every morning. He never ceased to amaze her. They shared the amazing breakfast he prepared and ate every bite. “How did you do all of this if you were feeling so sick?”

“I guess love has incredible healing powers.” He winked. “I am feeling much better.” Marcella straddled his lap, snaking her arms around his neck. “Well enough for some extracurricular activities?” she asked seductively. If he wasn't before, he was now. He crushed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, flipping her onto the mattress, his body on top of hers. God how I've missed this. He pulled back and lovingly caressed her cheek as he stared into her eyes.There’s the man I married.

“I think it’s safe to say that someone has made a full recovery. It’s a miracle!” she teased.

“Yes. Thanks to you. You, my love, are the best medicine.” And he gladly accepted every dose of her powerful medicine every three to six hours. Just what the doctor ordered.