#Wants to hear about that one time you got a migraine and cured it by eating kale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mistydeyes · 7 months

Note

Hello!! Could you do headcanons with the 141 boys with a partner who has frequent migraines and they are in the task force with them as well?

Honestly, any of these boys taking care of me while I have a migraine or just sick cures me in just a few seconds lol

thank you for requesting! I thought this was super cute to write and I was able to recall some of the non-harm methods for treating migraines :) I literally cannot even deal with a headache so I can't imagine what frequent migraines must feel like

migraines and forehead kisses

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summary: You've been diagnosed with frequent migraines but sometimes it is so unbearable that the 141 will step in and be sure to soothe their significant other.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x gn!Reader

warnings: none, all fluff :)

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price

most of the time, your migraines are triggered by stress or following a long, sleepless mission

price can tell when your in pain, especially when you close your eyes tightly or put your head in your hands

he'll rub your shoulders and offer to make you some coffee to help

he knows you are regimented about your medication so he often offers other methods of helping your headache

and as caffeine is the answer to all of price's problems, he immediately makes you a pot of coffee

as you put your head down on the table, you can smell the strong scent of coffee beans

"don't make it too strong" you mumble and he would laugh

it's a legitimate request as you have tried his coffee and you swear it would kill a small child

"here you go, love" he would say and presents you with a small mug

you're not sure if its the stimulants from the caffeine or just being back on base, but you're headache dissipates within moments

he'll continue to ask about your condition until you reassure him you're fine

"it's always the coffee"

he's so proud of it even though its something you can buy from the grocers

soap

when you first had a migraine, soap wanted to rush you to the infirmary

he practically loses it when you tell him how you can see an aura in your vision and how it feels like a jackhammer on your brain

only after you reassured him it was a reoccurring thing and you were diagnosed before you entered selection, he calms down

now he's an expert at helping you recover

you found that brufen helps the best and soap will always have it on hand

when you closed your eyes tightly on the plane and complained about the fluorescent overhead light, he immediately searched through his tac vest

"it's here somewhere," he would say as you could hear various zippers and velcro pockets being opened

eventually he opened your palm to offer you the small tablet

"you sure this isn't expired?" you asked and he reassured you he just got it from the chemist's last week

he handed you your flask of water and patted your back after you swallowed it

as you waited for the medication kick in, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder and draws circles into your back

"it'll be alright" he reassures and you have to tell him to lower his voice as it makes the migraine worse

he'll get it right one day

gaz

when you first told gaz you had frequent migraines, he spent all night looking up remedies

you already were on medication and had your analgesics at the ready so he focused on home remedies

for a few weeks, you both tried out various techniques (caffeine and essential oils being your least favorite)

eventually, you found that a good scalp massage was ideal for making the pain go away

something about increasing blood circulation

as long as you're not in the middle of an active war zone, he will gladly sit you in between his legs and give you the best massage in the world

he'll start at the base of your scalp and work his way up with his fingers

"just let me know if i'm hurting you, love," he'd reassure but his gentle touch always made you feel comforted

it honestly feels like one of those head scratchers but a thousand times better

you joke that he should've been a masseuse instead of joining the military

he'll hum lightly as he continues until you let him know that you're feeling better

you're more than happy to return the favor with his aching muscles (especially his back and shoulders)

ghost

you know your migraines are triggered after long mission briefings where you strain to look at the screen and through various floor plans

since they're unavoidable, ghost knows what to do when you exit the room and tell him you have a migraine

plays 20 questions with you and will ask if you tried everything

did you drink enough water? yes, you know me. took your paracetamol today? yeah tried that. what about your rizatriptan? you saw me take that before the briefing.

he'll sigh before offering you some other methods

"just follow me" he responds and you walk with him back to your quarters

he leaves the light off before returning from the bathroom with a cold, damp towel

before you can ask, he sits on the bed and motions for you to sit in between his legs

you compile and once you're comfortable, he places the cold compress over your eyes

despite the initial shock, it actually worked quite well and you swear you can fall asleep like this

ghost swears he heard you snoring but you deny it

now whenever you have a long briefing, you will follow the same routine and ghost gets to enjoy some quiet alone time with you

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starlightkun · 2 months

Text

➠ word count: 4.5k ➠ warnings: cursing, suggestive (no smut but they’re in love and horny lol) ➠ genre: fluff, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (comes after saltwater smiles), some minor angst again but it’s about like growing up and being a human and finding your place and purpose as an adult, not between our couple or anything ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ series masterlist

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this. From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Yo, tell them about the championships against the Sharks, Sungchan!” Your colleague, Seunghan, insisted, pushing on your fiancé’s shoulder with his hand that held a drink.

Sungchan looked down at his feet for a moment, and you caught a quick flash of hesitation on his features before he looked back up at the group of enthralled people and gave a lighthearted chuckle and charismatic smile. “I’ve already told that story tonight, I’m sure everyone here doesn’t want to hear it again. Besides, don’t you all want to hear about Y/N’s paper?”

You two were at a rather ritzy gathering being thrown by your department celebrating that one of your articles had been chosen for publication in a huge literary theory journal.

“Anton wasn’t here when you told it earlier!” Seunghan shook a grad student instructor in your department. “And we’ve all read her paper like a hundred times before it got published.”

You reached up to squeeze Sungchan’s arm through his suit jacket. “It’s okay, Channie. I want to hear about it. That was championships your junior year, right? I wasn’t there, remember?”

He focused his gaze down on you for another second as if making extra sure, and you nodded and gave him a smile for good measure. He sighed, wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and began the story, much to all your colleagues’ delight.

A little later in the night found you by the drinks table with Ten. When you had moved back to your old college town to accept a position with the Literature department, you hadn’t expected to walk in on your first day and see a familiar face. Sure, you knew you’d be seeing Dr. Son, who was the department head now and had conducted your interview, and several of your old professors, but you’d been keeping up with most of your old schoolmates and as far as you knew, Ten had moved away after you two finished your two-year master’s program and remained there.

Ten swirled his cocktail around his glass before taking a sip, his eyes trained on your fiancé, who was still surrounded. “Why do I never get that treatment?”

“Maybe you should’ve been captain,” you snickered, taking another sip of your soda.

“Too much work.” Your friend wrinkled his nose. “So what is your man doing these days anyway? He get that PhD in molecular biology about fish or whatever?”

“Yep, he’s a whole doctor,” you told your coworker, looking over at your guy with pride. “Defended his thesis last spring, we did a short stint abroad for about a year for him to study some rare fish in the tropics to cure a rare blood disease. I enjoyed all the food and the sun, really. He probably got skin cancer. And now we’re back here. He’s actually doing his post-doc research here, too.”

“He’s curing blood diseases in tropical fish?”

“No, sorry, in people,” you covered your mouth as you laughed. “Somehow, the fish could help cure a human blood disease, I’m not sure about anything past that.”

“And you’ve got a fat rock on your finger,” he teased, grabbing your hand to inspect your engagement ring. “What a power couple.”

You giggled, letting him look over the ring. “Yeah, something like that. He proposed when we were abroad. God, it was the most gorgeous sunset. Just us, nice and quiet.”

“I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Duh. We just haven’t sent invites yet, bitch.” You pushed him with your foot, rolling your eyes. “It’s going to be a certified frat party, I’m afraid.”

“Kegger?” Ten grinned.

“I’m enlisting Taeyong and Kun to keep all you menaces in check for me.”

“Well yeah, you can’t trust your Chenle-of-Honor to do that, he’ll be the first up to do a kegstand.”

You laughed heartily at that. “A few years ago, probably. But I’m happy to report my man-shaped best friend has grown into a real adult.”

“Really? What’s the little monster doing?”

“Middle management in advertising at a designer company. He’s got his eye on a promotion soon, though. Oh, and he’s got the cutest little dog.”

“Speaking of little monsters…” Ten trailed off, eyeing your drink, then your abdomen. “No alcohol?”

“I can’t drink on my medication, remember?” You shook the ice around in your glass smugly.

“Damn!”

As you rode home with Sungchan, your hands entwined over the console, you looked out the passenger window with contentment in your chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sighed, stroking a thumb over the backs of your fingers.

“For what?” You turned to look at him curiously.

His features were pensive and regretful as he focused on the road in front of him, one hand on the steering wheel. “For being a distraction all night. Everybody was asking me about hockey the whole time when all the focus should’ve been on you and your awesome article. I’m sorry, I'll completely understand if you just leave me at home next time.”

“Channie, why the hell would I do that?” You asked through incredulous chuckles, turning to hold his hand with two hands. “Celebrating my accomplishments would mean nothing if I didn’t have you there with me.”

“But I just—”

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect there to be so many puckheads in the Lang department,” you shrugged. “But I know where we work, and you are a bit of a hometown celebrity around here, baby.”

“That sounds like something you’d call somebody who peaked in high school.”

“Right, my bad. You peaked in college.”

“Rude.” He knocked your elbow with his, making you laugh.

“I’m kidding, handsome. But I am proud of you. I snagged a good guy, and I am not going to hide you away when I go to these events just because people are going to ask about your hockey career.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“I appreciate you trying to put the focus back on me tonight, I really do.” You squeezed his hand. “But when Seunghan said everybody in the department had read my article hundreds of times, he meant it. They all helped proof and revise it dozens of times each. I was tired of reading it by the time it was accepted if I’m being honest with you. Hearing about your hockey game was a welcome reprieve from thinking about the body as a critical site for sex, gender, and political ideology in M. Butterfly.”

“Do you mean that or are you trying to make me feel less like a dick?”

“I mean it, baby boy.” You pinched his cheek.

He squirmed in his seat as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “You never call me that anymore…”

“Seems like you needed it.”

“Hey,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you. “I love you.”

“I know.” You cupped his cheek, stroking his cheekbone fondly. “I never doubted that for a second, baby.”

Sungchan leaned across the console to press his lips to yours, cradling the back of your head. You hummed delightedly into the kiss, moving your mouth against his sweetly.

When you felt the car suddenly roll forward, you jerked back, gripping his arm with a yelp. “Channie!”

He was already grabbing the steering wheel with two hands and slamming on the brakes again. “Fuck! Sorry!”

The car had moved forward less than half a meter and you were the only car at the intersection, but it was enough to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay, baby?” Sungchan checked on you with wide eyes, keeping one hand on the wheel as he reached his other hand over to grab your knee.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You put your hand over his to reassure both of you. The light turned green then. “Let’s just uh, get home in one piece, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He patted your thigh, leaving his hand there as he slowly started the car forward again.

“Channie?” You called out into the house, shrugging off your coat. You’d stayed a bit late to grade papers, and while Sungchan would’ve usually stayed to walk home with you, he had wanted to get a head start on cooking dinner.

“Pantry!” He yelled back, voice distant as he was presumably deep in the walk-in pantry.

You continued shuffling through the mail you’d grabbed on your way in as you walked further into your house, tossing the junk mail in the trash as you fished out the one packet that had caught your attention. Stopping at the doorway to the pantry, you tore open the thick packet. Skimming the letter and investigating the two lanyards inside, you informed your fiancé, “Donghyuck’s team is having a preseason scrimmage at the university, and he sent us VIP passes.”

Sungchan stuck his head back out of the pantry. “So that’s why he asked for our address the other day.”

“When did you talk to Hyuck?” You asked as he gently took the letter and lanyards from your hands.

“He called me out of the blue a couple weeks ago. I was at the gym before work and completely forgot by the time I got home, sorry, baby.” He flipped over the passes hanging from the lanyards, bright green and dark black, the colors of the professional hockey team that Donghyuck had gone on to play for after college. ��I thought he was going to crash on our couch or something, not this.”

“He’s a pro hockey player making like millions a year and you thought he was going to ask to couch surf?”

“You think he wouldn’t?”

“Good point,” you chuckled. “So how was he? Sound like he was doing well?”

“You said it yourself, he’s a pro hockey player making millions a year. I’m sure he’s doing great.”

You frowned up at him. “You didn’t ask?”

“It was a quick conversation, he’s busy,” Sungchan shrugged and handed everything back to you, disappearing into the pantry again. “We barely had time to say hello.”

“We should go,” you declared, setting the lanyards down in a spot so you two wouldn’t lose them.

“Baby, it’s a Friday. That’s our date night.”

“We can miss one date night for this, Channie,” you scoffed. “Besides, I’ve never heard of Jung Sungchan not wanting to go see a hockey game. Are you sure you’re my Sungchannie? Were you replaced by an alien or something?”

Sungchan kept his back to you as he started chopping vegetables. “Never mind, you’re right. We should go.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but didn’t push the issue further. “Alright...”

Sat back down in familiar bleachers, you hugged Sungchan’s arm tightly, buzzing with excitement. As much as you had loved watching Sungchan play hockey when you were younger, there was something special about watching it with him, having him explain plays, tell you if a player made the right call, or how he would have done it if he had been captain. Being able to see the sparkle in his eye up close as he watched one of his favorite things. You’d seen it plenty of times in the years that you stayed local while he got his PhD. Which is how you knew that something was wrong now, even as he tried to flash a smile at you every so often, ones that never reached his eyes. He didn’t join in the cheers very enthusiastically, and never engaged when the other guys around him tried to debate calls that the refs made.

You found out that the whole team from your senior year had been invited as well, though some of them couldn’t make it. So it was you, Sungchan, Mark, Ten, Jeno, and Chenle in the VIP section. Yangyang was staying abroad with his parents, while Sicheng was at a seminar for work. Chenle was of course invited as an honorary member of the team, fresh off a plane from Paris with that promotion in his pocket.

Donghyuck was Good. He had been great when he was on the Raptors, obviously, which was how he had gotten scouted to go pro, but now he was great. And this was just a preseason scrimmage, just him messing around. You were sure he was scary good when he was actually trying at their real games. He’d kept his old number from college, 66, and seemed to have his own legion of fans with posters and signs.

When the game was finally over—and Donghyuck’s team won—a representative from the team corralled everyone with the VIP lanyards and directed you towards a different area while the rest of the stands filtered out. You kept your hold on Sungchan’s hand as you waited in what you were pretty sure was the women’s locker room for your old friend.

Finally, Donghyuck ran in, and everyone immediately swarmed him, hooting and hollering, slapping him on the back, ruffling his hair, and making teasing remarks about being a big shot now.

“Mark!” Donghyuck threw his arms around his old Big’s neck, nearly knocking his friend over.

“Christ, dude,” Mark wheezed, stumbling back a couple steps. “Are you still wearing your gear or something?”

“Did you not keep up with our lifting regiment?” Donghyuck shamelessly felt up Mark’s arms, then gasped dramatically. “Am I the Big now?”

Mark swatted his hands away. “If you want to pay for all my beer and drive me around in your Lamborghini or whatever, sure.”

“Deal!” The pro player grinned, then turned to the next person, who happened to be you. “Y/N!”

“Hyuck!” You beamed, opening your arms wide for him to throw himself at you as well, only staying up since Sungchan was right behind you to catch you. “Hey, there! God, I can’t believe it! You killed it out there!”

“Thanks!” He let go of you with one arm to wrap it around Sungchan’s neck, pulling him into the hug with both of you. “Oh, it makes me so happy that you two are still together! Are you engaged? Married? Kids? I didn’t have time to ask Sungchan when I called the other week, I was heading into an interview.”

You leaned back as much as he would let you, just enough to show off your ring. “He proposed last year. We’re— eugh!”

You were cut off by Donghyuck tugging you two against him into a tight embrace again. You gave him a pat on the back as you continued, slightly choked with your throat pressed against his shoulder. “We’re looking at a spring wedding…”

“I love you guys so much…” Donghyuck sighed. “All of you. I hope you know that hasn’t changed.”

“We know that, Hyuck.” You coughed, rubbing his back. “Make sure we have your address so we can send you an invite, okay?”

“What did I tell you, Y/N? In undergrad?”

“You told me a lot.” You laughed as he finally let you and Sungchan go. “Some stuff you probably don’t want me to repeat right now.”

“I said you guys were soulmates. I knew you were gonna get married. I knew it.”

“Oh yeah, you did.” You squeezed his hand that he still had a grip on. “Hey, when you retire from pro hockey, you can be a fortune teller.”

“Don’t joke about that, I’m the star player, haven’t you heard?” Donghyuck was practically puffing out his chest. “I’m years off from retirement!”

Sungchan grabbed him by the scruff then, teasingly mussing up his hair. “What did we always tell you about bragging?”

Ten, Jeno, and Mark eagerly joined in on giving him a killer noogie, the four of them managing to keep him in place despite Hyuck being the only one who had remained a professional athlete.

“Ack!” Donghyuck complained as he was surrounded. “Y/N! Chenle! Somebody, help!”

“Promise you’ll buy us dinner with your star player money,” Chenle crossed his arms over his chest as he watched on, “and maybe Y/N and I will convince them to leave you alone.”

“Yeah!” Jeno agreed. “Dinner and drinks and we’ll consider!”

“This is extortion!” Donghyuck yelped.

“Glad to see some things don’t change…” You sighed, shaking your head. “You guys still pick on him.”

“He needs an ego check,” Jeno snorted, his arm now around Donghyuck’s neck.

“I was going to take you all out to dinner anyway!” Donghyuck pleaded. “Didn’t you people read the letters?”

“It was in the letter, guys,” you confirmed loudly.

The guys all looked at each other, slowly releasing their holds on the youngest. With sweet, proud smiles, they fixed his hair and straightened his branded hoodie back up, smacking his shoulder and patting his cheek between compliments of how well he played and specific moves he did, giving feedback on certain things he could improve on still. Donghyuck rolled his eyes at the constructive criticism, but you could see him struggling to suppress the fond curl of his lip at being surrounded by his old teammates again.

When you finally got home that night, you felt about ready to collapse into bed. You had a tired, happy smile on your face from seeing all your old friends again, and haphazardly tossed your go bag to the side before stepping out of your shoes. Sungchan didn’t follow you into the bedroom, as you had expected. You heard him detour to the kitchen, and your ears perked up with interest as you changed into your pajamas.

Sungchan didn’t just get a glass of water, though. You heard him rooting around in the snacks, and that’s when you got concerned. You had just eaten dinner and had drinks, and he had plenty of bar snacks as you all hung around and caught up after finishing dinner. He shouldn’t be scrounging for a midnight snack already.

After tossing your dirty clothes in the hamper, you ventured out to the kitchen determinedly. Sungchan hadn’t yet found something to eat, a frustrated pout on his face as he pulled out box after box, but didn’t open any.

“Hungry?” You asked curiously, leaning against the fridge.

“No,” he sighed, setting the container of crackers down loudly then rubbing his face harshly.

You held your hand out towards him, and he took it immediately. You led him back through your house by the hand, into your bathroom and let go there. Walking back out through the house, you grabbed his desk chair from your joint home office, and pulled it into the bathroom. He was standing exactly where you left him, and let you wordlessly push him down by the shoulders to sit in the chair. Washing and drying your hands, you then readjusted the chair, making sure he was exactly where you needed him. Then you climbed onto his lap facing him, the two of you perpendicular to your bathroom vanity. You grabbed a fuzzy character headband from one of your drawers and put it on him, pushing his hair back from his face.

“I—”

“Shh.” You stopped him as soon as he opened his mouth, putting your own headband on.

Next, you grabbed your cleanser.

“What—”

“Shh,” you repeated with more emphasis, holding his eye contact firmly, until he gave up and closed his mouth, letting his head fall back against the head rest.

You meticulously went through your whole extended skincare routine, doing each step first on Sungchan, then on yourself. He finally gave up on trying to talk, then finally relaxed, then really relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut and a pleased hum rising in the back of his throat.

“All done, handsome,” you announced at the end, giving his cheeks a final squish between your hands, then pulling off his headband and fluffing up his hair.

Sungchan slowly opened his eyes, reaching up to take your headband off as well.

You smiled down at him. “How are you feeling, Channie?”

“Better, thank you, baby,” he replied quietly.

“You want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t look you in the eye. “About what?”

“Whatever’s been getting you bummed lately. You weren’t all there tonight, I could tell. And the day we got the passes, you didn’t even want to come in the first place. That’s not like you.” You put both your headbands aside on the counter, then stood up off him. “You get changed into your pajamas, I’ll tidy up in here. We’ll talk in a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, getting up and grabbing the chair to drag back with him.

You wiped down the bathroom counter and tidied up all your bottles and containers, listening to the sounds of Sungchan getting ready in the next room over. When you walked back into your bedroom, you were thrown for a loop as you couldn’t see your fiancé for a moment. You found him in your living room, sitting on your couch and holding a picture frame that usually lived on one of the end tables.

Sitting down beside him, you looked at the picture with him. It was of you two at his last collegiate hockey game, him still in his uniform as he picked you up and spun you around, bright smiles on both your faces. His face now was brooding, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he continued staring at it.

“You got me that for our first anniversary,” you commented softly. “I love that picture.”

“I do too,” he sighed, though his tone was much more bitter than his words.

“Talk to me, Channie,” you murmured. “What’s going on?”

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this.” He shook the frame. “From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Oh, Channie...” you breathed out, draping an arm across his back and leaning your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

“It’s not you, baby,” he assured you, squeezing your knee. “It’s everything else. Like I try to do anything else, be anything else, but I’m just dragged back into that stupid jock box again.”

“Well, what do you want to be?” You asked as you sat back up, rubbing up and down the center of his chest soothingly. “Not what you think other people want you to be, or what you think you should be. What do you actually like? What do you want to do? Do you still like hockey? Outside of everybody’s opinions about you liking hockey? It’s okay either way, for you to still like it or not. It was the biggest thing in your life for like twenty years, baby. It’d be ridiculous to expect you to just suddenly not like it as soon as you graduated.”

“Do you really want a husband that just talks about sports all the time while you’re talking about smart stuff?” He sighed, letting his eyes close as he leaned all of his weight against you, his hands dropping to rest the frame in his lap.

“I want a husband that’s you. That’s why I accepted your proposal and not like, Dr. Yoon’s or something.”

“I’m going to assume you’re being hyperbolic to make a point and that my research head didn’t actually propose to you. Because if not, then I’m going to stop pouting and write my letter of resignation right now.”

“I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Which is?”

“You’re really underselling yourself, Channie.” You encouraged him to lay his head in the crook of your neck, not letting up your movements on his sternum. “You’re plenty smart. We’ve been together for almost seven years and I still couldn’t keep track of a hockey game if a gun was to my head. Meanwhile you were a whole captain. You had to make decisions on your feet—or, your skates. Not to mention, hm, oh yeah, you have a PhD in molecular biology. Did you forget about that? Doctor Jung?”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled into your collarbone.

“Oh yeah,” you mimicked him lovingly. “I nearly flunked my bio for non-majors course my freshman year, you know.”

“What?” He squinted up at you. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You knew I was a Bio major, you should’ve asked me for help.”

“I kick myself every day for it,” you replied melodramatically, and finally saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “So? Do you think you still like hockey or not?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You kissed the top of his head. “I want you to do stuff that makes you happy.”

“Coach came and found me at the lab last week... the day we got the VIP passes from Donghyuck. He’s looking for a part-time assistant coach, said I was his first pick,” Sungchan admitted quietly.

“That’s why you were so... off that day, huh?”

“Yeah. It felt like I was handed a pamphlet for a retirement home.”

You chuckled as he reached forward to set the picture down on the coffee table, then grabbed your hand that was on his chest. He looked up at you with heartachingly familiar, big, round doe eyes, ones that hadn’t changed in the ten years since you’d first met.

“I told him no but... I’m thinking maybe I should ask if he’s found someone else yet?”

“I think that’s a great idea, baby.” You pecked his forehead. “Coach Jung… I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, a much different look in his eye as he sat up to his full height, towering over you.

“I don’t know, let me try it again.”

“Go ahead.”

“Coach Jung.” You reached for the back of his neck as he laid you down on your couch, hovering over you. “Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it, huh? Powerful, sexy. I love a man with a whistle.”

“You’re so dorky,” he snickered, letting you pull his lips down to yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my Sungchannie.” You cradled his face with both of your hands.

“Lies.” He kissed your lips. “Impossible.” He kissed your neck.

“Says who?”

“Who has the whistle here?”

“You don’t have one yet,” you teased, holding your arms up for him to pull your shirt off. “Assistant Coach Jung.”

Sungchan kissed a trail down your front, stopping above your waistband. “You’re forgetting something, baby.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a scientist, with a degree and everything, and I say it’s scientifically impossible for anybody to love anybody more than I love my girl.”

You made grabby hands at him, and he rose up from where he had settled between your legs, entirely blocking out the lights above you. You connected your mouths together again, wrapping your arms and legs around him so tightly he had no choice but to lay his entire weight on top of you.

“No fair,” you complained into his mouth. “I just told you I almost flunked Gen Ed bio.”

“You should’ve let me be your sexy tutor, then.” He didn’t sound sympathetic at all.

“Yeah, freshman you all sweaty and nervous in your hockey team hoodie.” You broke apart to giggle. “Real hot stuff, Channie. Literally.”

“You’re lucky you’re the love of my life, or I’d be really hurt at some of the stuff you say to me, you know.”

“You’re right.” You gave him a peck. “I am lucky that I’m the love of your life.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

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fireinmoonshot · 1 year

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can i please just get something with worried/protective bradley??

“Don’t freak out,” Natasha starts as soon as Bradley answers the call. “But Moonshine is in the medical center. They asked me to call you and tell you and said there’s no reason for you to worry, they just wanted you to know.”

“What sort of accident?” He asks, already searching for his car keys.

Natasha can hear the worry in his voice. “It’s nothing to worry about, Rooster.”

“If it’s not, then you’ll tell me what happened,” he says, pulling on his boots with difficulty, considering one of his hands is occupied with holding the phone to his ear. “So tell me.”

There’s no way Bradley is going to let Natasha hang up without an answer, and she knows that as well. So, sighing, she relents. “We’d just landed and I don’t know what happened exactly, but when we got out they suddenly felt really lightheaded and nearly fainted. I managed to catch them in time, and they didn’t actually faint.”

Bradley opens the car door and shoves his key into the ignition. “I’m on my way.”

“No, you don’t–”

Natasha is cut off by Bradley hanging up on her. She sighs and walks back into the medical center, heading over to your bed where you’re lying, a cool cloth over your forehead.

“I told him not to come, but he’s coming anyway. I’m sorry, Moonshine, but I guess there’s no stopping Rooster when he gets his head set on something,” she admits.

You chuckle a little, but even just doing that sends a pain shooting through your head. “Yeah, I should have expected that, honestly. But he’d worry more if I didn’t tell him. Thank you for calling him for me, Nat.”

She tells you it’s no problem and then excuses herself to go back to work. Even though she wants to stay, she has things that she needs to do and can’t spend all her time sitting with you and waiting for Bradley to show up – and she knows that when he does, you’ll be in good hands.

Bradley makes it to you in record time, finding a park and running into the base, heading towards the medical center and stopping for no one. When he steps through the door and sees you, his heart crumbles in his chest.

“Angel, what happened?” He asks, sitting down on the chair beside your bed and taking your hand in his. Your eyes had been closed, trying to dull the throbbing in your head, so you hadn’t noticed him coming into the room.

You smile at the sight of him once your eyes adjust to the light. “You know you didn’t have to come all the way here, Bradley. You had things you were planning to do today!”

He shakes his head. “No, not when Phoenix calls me and tells me you’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, not really,” you give his hand a squeeze. “I’m afraid to tell you that the doctor thinks it’s just a really bad migraine, probably caused by the combination of a lack of water, sleep and flying earlier today.”

Bradley squeezes your hand back. “That sounds like being hurt to me.”

“I’m definitely going to live, though, so you can go home, Bradley,” you smile.

There is no moving Bradley Bradshaw from your side, though. He has no plans to go home any time soon until you’re coming home alongside him, completely cured from your migraine.

“Not happening, angel,” he says. “Is there anything I can do? You’ve had painkillers?”

You hum. “As soon as I got in here they gave me the good ones. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, I promise, so–”

“No matter how much you try and convince me, I’m still not going anywhere.” He brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to your palm. “Why don’t you close your eyes and try and get some rest? I’ll stay here until you wake up.”

There was no use trying to convince him anymore. You could see that now. The man was so devoted to you that he was willing to stay by your side doing nothing while you slept off a migraine. “I’m counting on you to still be here when I wake up, then.”

“I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be, angel.”

#bradley bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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redhoodedangel · 2 years

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Fear Fever (Arkham! Jason Todd X Sick!Reader)

So, while I’m struggling at home with COVID, I need some comfort, feels and serotonin. Now, who better to write about than Arkham Knight!Jason Todd? Plus, I rarely do a self-indulgent/serotonin/ depression cure fic to get me through sickness (because I rarely get sick).

Basic premise, Reader is sick during the Halloween from Hell in Gotham. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make it during the evacuation of the city due to how tired and ill she was. The Arkham Knight then breaks into her apartment and, upon realizing who she is and that she’s sick, starts taking care of her.

Warning ⚠️ : None other than mild violence, description of illness and breaking and entering

~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

Out of all of the days of the years to get sick, Halloween was one of the worst times. Especially in the city of Gotham, when Scarecrow announced his takeover…

Unfortunately, given how tired and disgusting you felt, you couldn’t leave the city in time. The buses were full and already left and your car was demolished by rioters and thugs. You had no alternate but to stay home and rest, despite the risk of your apartment being broken into. But, you knew it would be a bad idea to go out into the criminal-infested streets while fatigued and plagued with illness. No doubt they would take advantage of your weakness.

You used to love Halloween when you were younger. The costumes, the makeup and face paint, the candy and scary movies. Unfortunately, that love for the holiday gradually diminished after the loss of your friend and crush, Jason Todd. No one knows what happened to him or where he went. You tried to get an answer from Bruce Wayne, the man who essentially adopted him. Only for the butler, Alfred, to tell that Jason had been murdered by the Joker. How it happened or why, they and you didn’t entirely know themselves and they didn’t really elaborate, either. All you knew was that Bruce was taking the loss very hard.

Popping a cough drop into your mouth, you let out a dry cough. A dull pounding shot through the front of your head as you did, causing you to groan. Laying back on your pillows, you placed a cool towel against your forehead to numb the pain. You could barely breathe through your nose because of how stuffy it was. It felt like you were breathing through two pieces of cotton. Or better yet, one nostril unblocked while the other was completely blocked off.

After a few minutes of dozing off and waking up, a loud BANG erupted from down the hall of your apartment building. Adrenaline overwhelmed your drowsiness and you immediately grabbed your two closest bags and started stuffing with what you needed. Including any medicine and remedies you had been using while resting and fighting off your disease.

Unfortunately, a series of footsteps came barreling up the stairs of the building. You knew that by the time you enacted your escape, they would’ve broken into the door to your condo and a chase would’ve ensued. Plus, if you attempted to fight through whoever was coming, you would probably be easily overpowered. So, you had to opt for the biggest and dumbest plan of all…

You hid under your bed…

As soon as you got under the mattress, the door to your apartment could be heard bursting open. You could hear the shouts of men, the cocking of guns and see the glow of flashlights under your bedroom door. Your anxiety spiked, your symptoms subsiding for the faintest moment. You were thankful that the drop you took earlier had temporarily suppressed your coughing.

“Alright, be on guard, men. She couldn’t have gone too far.” A digitalized voice flooded the deafening silence, disguising whoever was behind it. You remain silent, trying to stay calm with your fear spiking at every second of tension. Your eyes began to water from the migraine forming in your head and the prospect of getting caught.

A heavy set of footsteps came up to your bedroom door, forcing it open with a kick. You wanted to scream, but remembered that you were trying to hide. Your heart was thumping harshly against your rib cage, yet was unheard by the man in the room. You could make out the hefty, military-grade boots from under your mattress and your draped sheets and comforter.

Then came the tickling sensation within the bridge of your nose. You tensed up as you fought with yourself to dampen the feeling to get rid of the invincible result. Your frustration and hope to keep it down mounted as your panic escalated. The tickling grew and grew until it reached the tip of your nose. Then.. the impending exclamation of release and relief…

You sneezed like you’re trying to break the sound boundary. Your head throbbed as the sneeze worsened the migraine you already had. When you realized what you had done, you let out a swift and angry, “Son of a bitch!”

A force then grabbed you by the hoodie you were wearing, your anxiety now at its peak. Your entire being was forced to stand up and your eyes to look at the culprit. A blue-screened helmet with metal appendages, mocking Batman’s cowl, stared back at you. But, you felt like his real eyes were looking at you differently than the helmet was trying to convey. The rest of his suit fit perfectly against his frame, making him appear even more imposing. The Arkham ‘A’ was plastered on the chestplate and the logo on his shoulder pads.

Unaware of the cough you were holding back, you began to hack uncontrollably. The man holding you hostage seemed to react with a gesture of concern, cocking his head slightly to the side. You would’ve taken advantage of the momentary distraction, but you were too miserable to care.

“Sorry about this…”

No sooner he said that, you felt a punch strike you across the jaw…

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to a dark room and a soft bed under you. A dam and cooling sensation was placed on your forehead, your bodily temperature a little more manageable now than it was before. Your headache was still present, but was more akin to a light pressure on your head than anything. Your fatigue was still there, no doubt along with the rest of your symptoms.

You were confirmed to be correct as a dry cough ripped through your throat. The cold cloth fought the pounding that came with it, making the pain more numb. The drowsiness from before started to kick in, your eyes becoming droopy. That was until the door to the room opened with a thud. Turning and picking up your head, you could see the armored commander from before, who came barging into your room. The towel slipped off your forehead, leaving a light chill on your skin.

“You should lay down your head back down or your head will hurt a lot more.” He said bluntly in that electronic voice.

“I don’t normally get kidnapped while sick. Pardon me for being curious.” You hissed, now laying on your side. The Knight laughed softly and humorlessly from under his mask. He then pulled out a thermometer from a pouch on his utility belt.

“Slip this under your tongue.” He requested, holding the instrument to your lips. You looked up at him, quizzical and a bit skeptical. He sighed, “Listen, I’m not gonna say it again…”

You did as you were told, taking the thermometer into your mouth and under your tongue. The both of you waited for a result to blink to life on the circular screen. It was only a few seconds when it finally flashed to life. The Knight pulled out the thermometer and examined the temperature on it.

“Hmmm, well, whatever fever you might’ve had before has gone down…”

“Yet, I still felt like crap…”

The Arkham Knight laughed humorlessly once more as he placed the thermometer on a nearby table.

“Even while sick, you still manage to be stubborn and blunt, (Y/N)…”

Your eyes widened as you realized that you hadn’t given him your name verbally. You began searching for potential ways that he could’ve learned your name from or where. You didn’t really have any personal items, displaying your name for all to see. No jewelry, no stitching into backpacks, no fancy keychains, nothing… you had nothing in your possession or in your apartment that would’ve given him your name…

So, how did he know…?

“I never told you my name…” you responded defensively, sitting up in the cot you had been lying in.

“Actually, you did… a long time ago…” he countered with a wit that was bigger than what you had originally thought.

“What do you mean? I’ve never met anyone like you before…”

The metallic click of a button suddenly followed your reply. The front of his mask began to lift up and reveal who laid underneath. A distinct ‘J’ marking was displayed on his left cheek, possibly a branding of some kind. You then caught sight of blue eyes as you looked further up.

The crystalline color was familiar to you…

Before you could stop yourself, the name spilled out from your lips…

“Jason?!”

“Hey, (Y/N)…”

Your jaw was practically on the floor by now. You had no other words to describe how you were feeling and even seeing right now. At first, you thought that the fatigue was finally messing with your head. But, you knew that would be a bit of a stretch as adrenaline was driving your every movement.

“Earth to (N/N)? You alright?” Jason asked concerned, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“How? Bruce and Alfred told me that you were killed. By the Joker, of all people! How are you alive?”

“My death was a fake out. Joker made them believe that he had killed me. I’m surprised you haven’t put two and two together…”

The brain in your pain-riddled head began to turn and wind. You started putting an invisible puzzle together, trying to connect the dots. One by one, the picture became clearer and bigger. All at once, everything made sense and no sense at all. You softly uttered what your conclusion finally was…

“Bruce Wayne is Batman… and the others at the Manor are…”

“Yep…” Jason answered simply, confirming everything you had just figured out.

“Oh my god…” Your head suddenly began to spin and your stomach uneasy. Your arms was about ready to give out from under you.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. Don’t push yourself.” He said, clutching your shoulders in an attempt to help stay upright.

“How did you find me?”

“The rioters outside your apartment building. They were talking someone being inside and I realized that you were probably still in there. Thanks to the tech in my helmet, I saw that you were. Course, I didn’t know you were sick until I found you. So, I brought you somewhere where you could rest and recover without getting caught by criminals.”

You were relieved to know that him finding you wasn’t a coincidence. You were even more than happy to know that he was still alive. Though, a little darker and rough around the edges than before. You didn’t dare push him to tell you more or about his scars as you knew it would be painful for him to recall and retell the story…

So, instead, you just pulled him in a hug. He flinched for a moment before he calmed down and realized what you were doing. He returned the embrace, relieved that someone still cared about and haven’t forgotten him. You then said, “I’m really glad that you’re alive and that you found me. Your death was really hard for me to take… Nothing felt right again after you were gone…

“Thanks. I’m sorry that you had to go through all that…”

“It’s okay…”

You both sat there in the silence for a bit, just holding each other. Your head laid against the shoulder pad on his left arm. It was cool to the touch and was a welcome relief to your heated cheeks.

“Y’know, if I get sick, it’s your fault.” Jason said sarcastically, trying to break up the silence in whether way he could.

You laughed in response, appreciating the joke for what it was. Unfortunately, you had to pull away as another cough climbed through your throat.

“Hey, you rest up. I’ll be back later.” Jason said, moving away from the bed you were in.

“Be careful…”

Of course, you knew that with him as the Arkham Knight and his history with Batman, there was no such thing as ‘careful’.

You knew that too well…

Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten sick…

But, this time around, it was a bit more welcome…

Because it brought someone you lost back to you…

~~~~~~~~~

Hey, just a friendly reminder to wash your hands, wear your mask (if necessary or required) and don’t overwork yourself. Believe me, overworking yourself and burnout can easily end with you getting sick.

Anyways, have a good day!

#dc comics #batman #dc universe #jason peter todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #arkhamverse #jason todd imagine #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #reader insert #jason todd #self indulgence time #self indulgence at its finest #I has the sick #fuck covid

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reds-ultrakill-brainrot · 2 months

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Hello! I'd like to ask for a music match please :)

My pronouns are they/him (he/him preferred atm), I'd like to get matched for Gabriel (I headcanon him as trans, and that he's insecure about his face a little bit so he wears the helmet! I think it's lovely)

I... Don't entirely know where to start. On the positive, I'm a big fan of music, I love art, I looooove machines. I really wish I was one; the kind of vibes I would give would be immaculate.

I'm big into like, either the most sopping wet pathetic men imaginable, or women who could probably like, crush my skull or something. Don't know why.

On the negative, I've got DID (two alters but they almost never show up), really bad memory loss & migraines, and a complete lack of understanding of myself. Each new day is like learning I'm a different person all over again, and I kind of mold to the people around me, but this is getting better with help.

Additionally, I'm very insecure and I've got a bit of a savior complex. I love dark themes in media, but need a happy ending or I'll cry. I need a good amount of validation or I'll totally fall apart (once again, also getting better with help!!!), but I'm very open & communicative about my needs and willing to negotiate things with people.

I love music with themes of rebellion and attitude, and I love a good story about sticking it to the man and going your own way. In media, I've always loved seeing stories of tragic heroes falling at their own hands but being swept up by someone stronger and sturdier than them, even if it's just for the moment. I've seen myself in the weak one, and I've always wanted to be the strong one.

I've always wanted to save someone from the same situation I was in when I was young, and that's carried onto my adult life. I think this carries into my taste of music and partners; I can't handle anything too happy, or it feels fake. There are very few people who I comfortable with being overly positive towards me.

My life is almost defined by labels. Without them, I would feel lost. I wouldn't be able to just point to a section of the DSM-V and go "oh, right there, that's me."

Silly note, I am mad autistic and start crazy stimming and squealing whenever I hear either a honking bicycle horn, or the KLING of a coin as it's being flipped. I also like to gnaw on things, I'm the guard dog of my friends, and I constantly flip between insanely high-energy and insanely low-energy.

Gen really sorry if this is wonky or too much at all, I'm not good with these... Tysm :))) Also, I'm an INFP-T and an Aries, if either of those help!!!

- TT

♫♪.ılılıll Gabriel Music Match llılılı.♫♪

INFP-T Aries He/Him/They/Them Alias-TT

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

1. Remember My Name - Mitski a song about feeling valued for what you give others and feelings of inadequacy both past and present. i feel both you and Gabriel would connect over this. for him, his entire creation and purpose was centred around his service to heaven, the council and ultimately the Father. losing this along with his trust in the council and the belief in his creator would undoubtably leave him with questions about his own worth now he was unwilling/unable to fulfill his duties. for what is the fate of an angel scorned by Heaven? "just how many stars will i need to hang around me to finally call it heaven?"

2. Til We Run Out Of Air - Hatchie a song for the saviour complex in you. ultimately about hope after dark times, this is sure to prompt a happy daydream/scenario or two. this song also has parts alluding to self worth issues, which as previously mentioned could be applicable to either of you. true connection and compassion untied to his performance of his duties or role in Heaven is something Gabriel is truly unfamiliar with, but now he has you. you're here for the ups and downs, not keen to give up on him so quickly. "to spend your whole life as your enemy such a crime"

3. Lovesong - The Cure seeing Gabriel struggle with emotions/feelings you similarly have delt with, you recognise and empathise with him in a way that was never provided for him before. i feel this song could apply both ways, your love and care give him the motivation to continue to find his own purpose and worth, and for you he would provide the same compassion in return. as you mentioned appreciating validation the repeated admissions of love could once again go both ways, depending on how you feel at the it might help to imagine this is him talking to you, or you to him. "whenever i'm alone with you you make me feel like i am whole again"

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

i apologise for the lack of overtly punk/rebellious music, however finding songs that were about a relationship in some way that fit that theme and weren't about unhealthy dynamics was very difficult. that being said i hope you like what i came up with, and if you want an additional 3 songs please feel free to send in another request. also apologies again if i sound clinical/uncaring when i speak about insecurity or similar negative self ideals/perceptions, i'm being direct about what i see patterns/connections with. thank you for reading

#musicmatch

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newhavenrp · 9 months

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Is that ROB BENEDICT? No, that’s CHARLES SCHAEFER. The 42 year old STORM MOON WERE-RABBIT OMEGA MALE is a WRITER + WANNABE MUSICIAN. If you ask their friends, they’re known to be GENTLE & CREATIVE, but beware, they’re also known to be ANXIOUS & a MESS. Their friends also say that they’re into PET PLAY & AFFECTION but don’t you dare trying SCAT & GORE with them.

Charles Shaefer was born the only child to Emma and Thomas Shaefer. Both on the pacifist side of the spectrum, they never considered moving out of New Haven. They were happy there and safe, so moving elsewhere had no appeal even though both of his parents loved traveling. When Charles was born, he was like any other child. He was happy, he was excited to go to the playground, he was a joy to his parents and those who met him, but as he grew older .. something in his brain shifted. It wasn’t instant, it was a rather slow, crawling process. He’d start getting nightmares at the age of five and six, would wake up shaking and crying in the night, which affected his daily routines quite a bit.

Emma worked as a librarian at New Haven’s famous Memorial Library and Thomas worked as an accountant. Both had jobs to get to and no time to waste on a moody child. Although, Charles was all but moody, he was terrified most of the time. What didn’t help was school. Charles … having inherited his parents’ rabbit genes and the fact he was shorter and also weaker than most of the other kids… together with the light stutter he got when he was nervous, which he always was… well, it was safe to say school wasn’t his favorite place to be, but he was a good student after all. Charles devoured every single book in the school library and some at New Haven’s, after school - because his parents didn’t want him to be home alone until they got back from work in the late evening hours.

That said, Charles didn’t want to be either. He preferred the protective presence of a parental figure in his vicinity in case his nightmares ever decided to come true. With ten, Charles began getting migraines. They sometimes lasted for several weeks, but nobody could define why - or tell the Shaefer’s anything other than that migraine sometimes lasts. Recommendations on nutrition and which foods to avoid didn’t help. With years passing, the migraine hits became stronger and more painful, but nobody knew how to fix Charles - what to do, how to treat him. There was no miracle cure for migraine. Yet.

Charles spent more and more time at home, alone. His parents either worked or traveled, but because of his condition, they never took him with. He was just a burden to them, which he understood rather early in his life. But he adapted to life the way he could lead it. His life.. happened inside the house he grew up in. He’d spend the days writing or …making music, although nobody would ever read or hear any of his creations. Music gave him peace, even if only for a little while.

When his parents died on one of their numerous trips outside the barrier, Charles. was sixteen. At least he believed they did when they didn’t return for weeks after they said they would. Usually they were on time, so when they didn’t return.. Charles knew there were two options. One. They died, which was the preferable possibility if you asked him. Two. They abandoned him for a life without his sorry ass in it. Not his favorite theory. He didn’t leave the house, so in a flourishing and ever-growing town of Supernaturals … nobody noticed. Charles lived off his parents’ savings, canned food and the fact he really didn’t need a lot in life to function. The nightmares, the migraine, the anxiety that had slowly built itself into a fortress of doom within him all kept him from enjoying life to the fullest, so he didn’t need much money.

After graduation, without the necessity to leave the house for school and classes, Charles just .. didn’t. And then he found out about the wonders of alcohol. He fell deeper into that hole than he thought he would, but the alcohol kept the nightmares at bay and the migraines… well, when he got drunk enough he didn’t really feel either. So the only reason for him to leave the house from then on was for a refill. His cupboards filled with canned goods, Jack Daniels for breakfast - it was safe to say Charles’ life .. was not a healthy one, but somehow he managed. As for money, he ..wrote pretty much everything. He didn’t make a fortune as a Penthouse Forum writer, but he got by and during difficult months, he hosted little streams online to share his passion for music. Funnily enough, due to him hardly ever leaving the house, he didn’t even have to hide his face to get by unnoticed.

Life was pain, but taking the quick way out was not an option, so it was either continuous suffering or …. well, torment. It was the same, exactly. There was nothing else in this world for Charles and he’d come to accept that. He’d die alone, in this house - either suffocated by a stack of papers, of which there were plenty scattered across the house - or he’d grow old and wither away while dreaming of what could’ve been.

#character name: charles schaefer #second gender: omega #species: werecreature #species: wererabbit #character status: taken

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sicjimin · 2 years

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Hi this isnt completely a headcanon but I love rainy weather in fics and irl! Most especially in sickfics. Theres just something about a gloomy sky and a sickie all bundled up under the covers. The room is dark and cool. Their caretaker checks up on them from time to time and it's just so COZY

OKK SO i have a lil drabble for this one .. ever since doctor Yoongi came across my ask box i haven't been able to get it out of my head

so what about alternate universeee where Yoongi is a med stud, in his med-years, with Seokjin as his roommate, a business student.

One dayy, Yoongi just got home from his night shift. Their shared dorm room was already empty as Seokjin must have been in class. Yoongi has paid no mind to it, he just quickly cleans himself up, and makes a quick meal before crashing into his room to get his deserved sleep. He wakes up few hours later, a little bit dazed and confused ; thinking that he might be sleeping too long since it's already dark outside. But then he realized that its just very cloudy outside and mostly going to rain. He trudges from his bedroom, wanting to get another cup of ramyeon as he's still hungry—and while he waits to cook his ramyeon, he frowns as there's no sign from his roommate.

Yoongi is worried.

It's already almost 6 pm and it's going to rain soon. And he knows it won't be a little drizzly rain. His heartbeat goes up and up when he remembers his conversation with Seokjin last night—

"Yoongichi, what's the best cure for a migraine?"

"Are you sick?"

"A little? I think i might have a migraine, it's not that bad though. I haven't slept well because of my exams, it might be from that"

Yoongi is sure he had already given his best input to the older but he can't guarantee if Seokjin really takes it or just brush it off.

Ramyeon long forgotten and Yoongi left pacing around their small living room, until the door opened and there was a drenched Seokjin, grinning at him—"Oh, you're home?"

"You left your umbrella again?"

Cueee to Yoongi nagging at the older while ushering him to change clothes take warm batch etc etc until he's sure the flush on Seokjin's cheeks is back.

Then they spent the rest of the day together, bundled up in their living room as the electricity went off bc of the rain. Sharing how their day went or simply scrolling their phones, until Yoongi could hear Seokjin sniffles and not long after mumbling he's going to sleep—but there's something off in his voice. Yoongi squints and scoots closer, placing his hand on the older forehead that gaining him a whine.

"Shit hyung you're burning up", Yoongi frowns, " This is why you have to br—" the nagging continues.

#ryu's talk #bts sickfic drabble

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 9 months

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338 of 2023

Spoonie Secrets! 🥄 [True or False]

Created by joybucket

At some point, living turned into just existing, just trying to survive each day.... It's hard when what little energy I have has to go into taking care of myself. It feels like an endless cycle of hospital stays, specialists, medications, and worsening symptoms. It never gets easier having to adjust to new limitations due to your illness. Medical devices do not make you any less beautiful. 🩷 Even though they do not say it directly, I know that I burden those around me. It's not my fault, but it still hurts. I wonder what it's like to live unafraid of your own body's destruction. Chronic pain is exhausting. Honesty about symptoms is not negativity. I am more than my illness, even if it doesn't always feel that way. I am always in pain, even when I'm laughing and smiling. Just because I look okay doesn't mean I am okay. Hearing that my illness is incurable was the hardest thing I've ever had to hear. You can be happy and still be in pain. You cannot tell how someone is feeling based on the way they look. Sometimes the good days make the bad days feel even worse. It's hard not to worry about what's going to happen next when you get so used to everything always going wrong. "You're coping so well with all of this!" Have they considered that maybe I'm just good at pretending? Chronic illness often means looking in the mirror and not recognizing your body. I'm not sure yet how to balance wanting to have hope with not wanting to get hurt again. Burnout doesn't just apply to the workplace. Nothing feels longer than waiting for pain meds to kick in. 💊 Showering when you have a chronic illness is exhausting. 🚿 Support can come in many forms, and online friendships are totally valid. Chronic illness changes the dynamics of your relationships for better and for worse. My fatigue is not the same as you being tired. One of the hardest parts about being disabled is living in a world that wasn't built for you. It's hard not to feel envious when others are doing what I once could. Some days, life with a chronic illness seems totally manageable, and other days it feels impossible. Although I recognize my strength, living with a chronic illness makes me feel constantly fragile. Rare disease looks like me. 🦓 It is hard not to feel like you are disappointing everyone around you when you are not improving. I know this struggle is teaching me so much strength, but it doesn't make it any easier. My illness may be a big part of my life, but I will not let it define who I am. There is so much more to me than being sick. Just because I got out of bed today does not mean I'm cured. At times I get sad that I have lived with these symptoms for so long that they are now my "normal." Telling me that other people have it worse does not make my situation any better. Sometimes the treatment seems worse than the disease. 💊 Being in survival mode all the time is exhausting. Chronic illness is so expensive. 💸 I do not think I will ever lose a sense of bitterness for my body betraying itself. I will forever hold some level of anger for the loss of my health. It is hard to explain the feeling of claustrophobia when you are stuck inside a sick body. It is defeating to know I can do everything right and still not get better. Chronic illness has made me unrecognizable to myself. A migraine is not just a bad headache. 🤕 Sometimes the grief I feel for my old life is all-consuming. Answering "How are you?" can be so hard when you are chronically ill. Chronic illness looks like getting your hopes up for a new treatment, only for it to fail. No, I am not "fine" one day and sick the next. My symptoms can just go from manageable to debilitating from one day to the next. I am sick always. Chronic illness: Being forced to be stuck in a constant state of survival mode. How is it that I can feel so strong yet so incredibly fragile at the same time? Sometimes a low-symptom day feels like a heavy reminder of what I'm missing out on. There is so much to juggle when you are chronically ill. Not abiding by your physical limitations can be very dangerous. It's okay if your biggest accomplishment this year was just surviving. Exercise won't cure my incurable illness. 🏃‍♀️ I don't share about my illness for pity or attention; I share for awareness. Sometimes I feel like I have to choose between staying alive and enjoying being alive. You do not have to consent to every treatment your doctor suggests. With chronic illness, some days our best looks like just going through the motions to survive. That is nothing to be ashamed of. I never imagined that testing "in sickness and in health" would be how my marriage started out. You can do everything "right" and still become disabled. It's hard not to feel like I've let my younger self down. Just because I'm quiet about my pain doesn't mean I'm not hurting. You call me strong and brave, yet you don't see how truly depleted I am from this battle. You expecting me to get better makes it hurt even more. My illness may limit me, but I will not let it dictate my life. It's an incredibly lonely and personal loss, losing yourself forever. Society tells us to hide our struggle, then questions if it is really there. I can't remember what it's like to wake up in the morning and not be in pain. It gets hard not to think about all the time this illness has stolen from me. When your days look the same, it's hard not to think about all you're missing out on. The bathroom floor has become all too familiar. 🚽 I wish I could go back and tell myself to appreciate what I had more. You never know how quickly things can be taken from you until they are gone. There isn't a single aspect of my life that chronic illness doesn't impact. Watching a doctor Google your symptoms is so disheartening. There's no off switch for my chronic illness--even when it is inconvenient. Living with a chronic illness can be incredibly monotonous. Disabled isn't a bad word. Just because I look good doesn't mean I feel good. It's hard to realize that my life will never be the same as it was before I got sick. Maintaining friendships with my healthy peers can be really hard. You don't need to apologize for having a chronic illness. It's not your fault. Having a rare disease that not all medical personnel understand can be really terrifying. I am so grateful for treatments that are keeping me alive, but sometimes I hate them. 💊 The changing of seasons can be HELL on a chronically ill body. The same diagnosis can look completely different on different people. There's no shame in taking medication. 💊 Flare-ups are not your fault. I'm so tired of this sickness. Some days I just want to scream and cry and ask, "Why me?" There is strength in this struggle. Missing out hurts, even when you know it's what's best for your body. Nope, still not better. It's called CHRONIC illness for a reason. It's hard to admit that seeing my peers thriving sometimes makes me feel even more upset about my reality. I wish I felt as strong as everyone thinks I am and assumes me to be. Accepting the reality that I'll be sick forever is hands down one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It's hard to feel like your pain is truly seen when your illness is invisible. I know I will never be healthy again, but I still hold on to the hope that I will see some improvement. When you're chronically ill, it gets hard not to envy the healthy people in your life. You should never be made to feel like you have to prove how sick you are to anyone. I'm not unreliable- my health is. Your best is going to look different every day, and that's okay.

#survey #random survey #bolding survey

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nickelnackleberries · 3 years

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I'm so fucking tired of abled people.

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holylulusworld · 2 years

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The bastard

Title: The bastard

Square Filled for @j3bingo: Hazing

Square Filled for @spnkinkbingo: Free Space - Daddy Kink

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Professor!John Winchester x Student!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, migraine, dirty talk, dominant John, creampie, degrading, roughness, daddy kink, breeding kink, doggy style, I’ll label this one lightly dub-con, a hint of blowjob, cowgirl, age gap (John is around 50; Reader around 28), hazing, John is an ass for a moment or two (or like ever), a hint of fluff

Summary: Your professor hates you.

Word Count: 3k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

2022 SPN KINK BINGO MASTERLIST

2021 J3 BINGO MASTERLIST

“Y/N, I want you to sit in the back from now on,” Professor Winchester eyes you warily as you were about to claim your usual place in the front row. “We have a new student, and she needs to catch up with the topic.”

“But I need to sit closer to the blackboard. My eyes are not the best, and you know about the light in the back. It’s too bright and I’m getting migraine,” you argue. “I could switch places with Danny.”

“No problem to me, Professor,” Danny tries to help you out. He hates to sit in the front and would do anything to switch places. “I got good eyes.” The boy grins. “Granny needs to sit in the front.”

“Stop calling me granny,” growling at the cocky boy you grit your teeth. “I’m twenty-eight, not eighty!”

“You are the oldest here,” one of the girls says, giggling as you drop your gaze at her comment. Most of the beginners are barely eighteen, you are much older and feel like an outcast most of the time. It doesn’t help that you work as a nurse at the university to pay for your study. “It’s unusual, is all.”

“I was a nurse before I decided to study medicine. I’m still young and,” now you look at Professor Winchester, smirking, “I’m not the oldest in this room…”

“You will sit in the back, no discussion,” jerking his head toward the only free place in the back Professor Winchester mirrors your smirk.

“Fine,” you glare at Professor Winchester, but bite your tongue. He’s an attractive man with salt-n-pepper beard, hazel eyes, big hands. Most of the time he wears black pants and a worn-out black leather jacket making him look more like a biker than a professor. If not for his shitty personality, you would crush hard on him.

“Now I want you to shut up and listen to my lecture, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he grins as you make an angry noise. “Anything else you want to discuss?”

“It’s miss, Professor Winchester.”

“Of course, it is…” he mocks, giving you a contemptuous grin. “Back to my lecture.” Professor Winchester watches you storm toward the seat in the back, grumbling as he dares to chuckle.

“He sucks,” you grumble under your breath, hating you must attend Professor Winchester’s class first thing in the morning. “He hates me for no reason. I will talk to the dean one day, I swear.”

Professor Winchester’s lecture drags on like it wants to last forever. You never hated biology before; now you do. He talks about nonsense instead of the topic you want to hear about. Your head hurts, and your eyes blur.

It takes all your willpower to keep your eyes open and to not groan at the questions the new girl asks. If you didn’t know better, you could believe Professor Winchester is watching your every move.

Anytime you are not looking at the blackboard you’ve got the feeling he’s glancing at you.

“Can we get to the point where you hand out the homework?” Danny asks. He turned around a few minutes ago and can see you are in pain. “Professor, I think Y/N isn’t feeling well. Maybe she should see the nurse…crap.” the poor boy bites his tongue, remembering you are the nurse.

“I’m fine,” you lie. It’s not that anyone but Danny would care, but you don’t want to show off weakness. “Nothing painkillers and sleep can’t cure.” Professor Winchester almost looks guilty for a moment before the moment is gone. “Let’s just get it over with…”

“He forces me to sit in the back, Professor Crowley,” you complain, crossing your arms over your chest. “We talked about my migraine and my eyes at the beginning of the semester. Now he wants me to sit in the back. The light is awful, and I can barely see anything he writes on the blackboard. Danny was kind enough to hand me a copy of his notes. That’s not his job, you know. He should be able to focus on himself and the topic, not me.”

“Danny boy wants to get into little mouse’s pants, is all,” Professor Winchester shrugs. “He’s a needy boy and I bet he didn’t get any for the longest time. Or like ever.”

“What the—!” you bite your tongue. “Danny is not the problem here. He’s a decent guy wanting to help me out.”

“You got that right, doll,” the bastard smirks, leaning closer. “He really wants to help you out with something. It’s about biology too, but not the kind we talked about lately.”

“Seriously,” glaring at the dean you huff, annoyed. “He can’t talk like that to me or Danny. This is about Professor Winchester harassing me from day one. I must work harder than anyone to get good grades. Sarah had the same damn answers in our last exam. She got an A; I got a B+! I checked it thrice, and there was not a single mistake.”

“You must work harder as you got experience as a nurse,” Professor Winchester argues. “None of the other students ever examined a patient before. You did. I let you work harder as you have an advantage.”

“What? That’s not fair!” you know it’s a lost cause to argue with Professor John Winchester. The dean won’t do shit to help you, and it will only get worse. “You know what, I give up.” You don’t give the men the chance to say another word as you storm out of the room, cursing John Winchester’s birth.

Lecture drags on once again and you feel like you are about to pass out. The throbbing pain in your head gets worse and you wish your stomach wouldn’t fight your breakfast.

If not for people around you would gladly ram your head into the wall to knock yourself out.

“Anything to add, Ms. Y/L/N?” Professor Winchester walks around the class to hand out next week’s homework. He stops when he reaches your desk, smirking but it fades as you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Nothing to add,” you fight the tears wanting to break free. “Everything is just fine…”

“Open the door, you forgot your homework,” a gruff voice calls from outside your apartment. You are not in the mood for another lecture from your professor so you pretend you’re not at home. “Danny forgot to take them too.”

“It’s Saturday,” you huff, but open the door to find Professor Winchester on your doorstep. “What do you want here?”

“I also make house calls,” he shrugs, walking past you to enter your apartment. “You didn’t show up for a whole week, Y/N. I don’t like people skipping classes.”

“I called in sick,” you close the door a little too harshly. “Yeah, come in. Make yourself home, Professor. Why don’t cha?”

“See, that’s your problem, princess,” he turns around to glare down at you. “That fucking mouth on you, and those short skirts and knee-high stockings. How can a man focus on anything but what’s between your legs when you spread them and show off your panties?”

“What? I did not!” you hold his gaze, panting as you can see his jaw tick and his hands twitch. “You can’t ban me from the front only as you are a creepy old man.”

“Creepy old man,” he’s on you in a blink, pushes you against the wall, hand wrapping around your throat. “I’ll show you a creepy old man, princess.”

“Take your hands off me,” a whimper escapes your throat, catching John’s attention. “This is inappropriate. I’m your student.”

“You’re going to be a slut for my dick from now on,” he leans closer to breathe in your face. Your eyes widen and heat pools in your belly. “That’s all you are good for.”

“Professor, you can’t talk like that to me,” John chuckles, already too far gone to back down now. He came here to get a taste of you, and he’ll not leave your home before he felt you wrapped around him. “I mean it, Sir.”

“Daddy,” he corrects, “Look at me, slut.” You whip your head toward John, hold his gaze, whimpering as he leans impossible closer. “That’s a good girl now.”

“No—I,” John covers your mouth, swallows the words stuck in your throat, as he forces his tongue into your mouth, groaning against you. He doesn’t let up, kisses you until you are a panting mess.

“It’s okay, princess. Daddy is going to take good care of you from now on,” your knees buckle, and you are sure if not for his arm wrap around your waist you would end up on the floor. “Are you going to be a good girl for me now?”

“Professor, I,” your heart races, and your cunt throbs in need feeling his hips press into yours. “You’re hard and…”

“Feel what you do to me, little slut? This is all I can think about,” he kisses you again, a little rougher this time. His teeth nibble at your lower lip as you weakly claw at his leather jacket. “I’m going to fuck you six ways from Sunday and some more. You’ll walk funny on Monday.”

“Professor Winchester,” his hand holds your throat in a tight grip. He doesn’t give you the chance to take a breath or to protest as he roughly shoves one hand into your sleep shorts. “Please.”

“I will tell you what will happen now,” John purrs against your kiss-swollen lips. He easily manipulates your body, flicks your clit expertly, making you cry out in frustration as he snatches your high out of your hands, “you’ll go to your bedroom, strip your clothes off and go on hands and knees. When I enter the room, I want to see your ass up and your legs spread. Show me that dripping cunt you want me to fill since you laid eyes on me for the first time.”

“I can’t let you…we shouldn’t,” you breathe out, but your hands claw at John’s wrist. “Please…I want…I need…”

“You wanna cum, princess,” he smirks, looking down at you, knowingly. His eyes darken and you feel his breath fan over your ear as he leans closer once again. “Then be a good girl and do as daddy says…”

John steps away, observing your trembling body with darkened eyes. “O-kay,” he watches you stumble toward your bedroom, whimpering as you hear him follow close behind. “Just a minute…I…”

“Hurry up, little slut. Daddy is so hard it hurts,” he teasingly swats your ass, making you fall onto the bed. You squeak and groan feeling his hands on you again. “I guess you want me to do all the work. Fine, let’s get you out of those shorts.”

John rips your shorts down your legs, groaning as he presses the damped fabric to his nose. “Smells like a whore,” he watches you crawl onto the bed. “Now I’m going to fuck you like one.”

“Professor, ah,” he grips your hips, drags you toward the edge of the bed to press your naked ass into his crotch.

John slaps your ass, smirking as you press your face into the mattress. “I’ll fill this dripping pussy and cream it. I will mark this body,” you bite the blanket as you hear his belt buckle clink.

His heavy cock slaps against your ass and you don’t know if you should moan or push him off your trembling body. Your mind fights your needy cunt, and you know, it’s a lost battle as he teasingly runs his cockhead up and down your slit.

“Perfect little cunt, ready to take dick,” John grips your hips, roughly digging his blunt nails into your flesh as he shoves himself into you with one hard thrust. “Fuck, that’s a good little cunt. I should’ve fucked you the first day. Right there. Over my desk. In front of all the people.”

“You’re so big,” your walls strain against his thick length. It’s a struggle to accommodate his size. “You don’t fit.”

“I fit perfectly fine, little slut,” he starts to rock his hips, slowly at first. His hold on you tightens and all you can do is to take his punishing pace when he speeds up. “You’re just used to tiny cocks not stretching this cunt out. This is what you were missing out.”

“Fuck…oh,” John slams into you, making you cry out with every hard thrust. Slick runs down your thighs, your mouth falls open and you hate yourself for it, but the coil in your belly tightens.

“See, that’s what you needed to help you with your migraine,” he purrs, gyrating his hips to hammer into you. He moves his hands over your back, up to your shoulders to grip them tightly. “Fuck, I will cum so hard in your tight little cunt.”

“Please, I need to…”

John reaches down to rip your sleep shirt open, eagerly tugging at your pert nipples. “Ask nicely, princess. If you ask nicely, I’ll make you cum.”

“Please,” your walls tighten, and you can already feel the orgasm approach as John pulls out. He slaps your ass, smirking as you groan, frustrated. “Please!”

“You can do better,” he rounds the bed to press his cock to your lips. “Clean my cock, suck it good, slut. I want to feel you choke around me.”

“Please, daddy. I wanna cum on your cock,” you lick over the wide head. “I will suck you off later and swallow your cum, promised,” he groans when you suckle at the tip. “I need you to fuck me good, daddy.”

“Fine,” John grumbles. “Take your shirt off. I’m going to ruin that pussy first then,” he watches you release his cock with a plop, immediately gripping your chin. “I’m a good professor and will teach you something about biology tonight. A wet pussy, a hard cock, no protection makes,” John smirks darkly, “my baby in your belly.”

“What? I?” he drags the ruined sleep shirt down your shoulders, laughing as you whimper when he gets back behind you to fill you again. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. He slams his hips into your ass, as his hands roughly knead your tits. “Daddy…you can’t.”

“I know you want to be full of my babies. I’m going to fuck you full of me, make you see you are nothing but my breeder. A cunt to stuff and take cum. You’re mine. This body is mine. You are mine,” you scream and moan.

One hand finds its way between your legs to slide through your dripping folds. He toys with your clit, moaning as you are close to your orgasm.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, hoping he’ll let you cum this time.

“Say it!”

“Please daddy make me cum and fill me up. Breed me,” you cry, desperate to reach the peak this time. His rhythm never falters. John moves his hips slower, drags his thick length against your abused walls as you feel the heat in your belly turn into a raging fire. “Oh, fuck…”

“That’s it,” he all but growls, “cum all over daddy’s cock, little slut. You’re not a princess anymore but my slut. I’ll take you with me and fuck you every day and night.”

“I’m gonna cum again,” he leans over your body, presses you into the mattress. It’s an odd feeling having the professor hating you move on top of your body. He’s still fully clothed and the rough fabric of his pants rubs against your skin.

“You are allowed to cum now, doll,” he coos in your ear while rutting into you. He mounts you like an animal, hips never stopping to move until you feel his warmth fill your soaked hole and a deep guttural groan leaves his lips.

Your cunt pulses around his dick again, grips him tightly to milk him dry. “Shit. Daddy.”

“You’re such a good girl for me,” purring against your cheek, John smirks. “Y/N, you’ve got a perfect cunt there. How about a deal?”

“A deal?” huffing you let him kiss along your neck. “You already fucked me, professor. What else do you want from me?”

“Again, that mouth on you,” John sinks his teeth in your neck, marking your flesh. “I want you to be mine, only mine. We will work on your grades, and you’ll become a doctor soon enough. All I want is your cunt in return.”

“That’s a shady deal,” he chuckles in your neck but licks along your skin to soothe the sting from his bite mark. “I won’t exchange good grades for sex.”

“Say no, if you don’t want me,” whispering against you John waits for your answer. “I can’t hear you, princess.”

“Maybe I want to fuck you again. But not for good grades…”

“Morning, Ms. Y/L/N,” Professor Winchester smirks at you. He’ was right, you walk funny this morning. “I’m glad you are back. I talked to Danny; you can sit in the front row to shelter your eyes.”

“Thank you, professor,” he shudders as you turn your head so no one can see you mouth daddy. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Anything for my students…”

Six months later, …

“Fuck, look at you, princess,” John groans. His mouth falls open, and he moans your name with every swirl of your hips. “You’re riding me so well.”

“I told you, I wanna ride your dick for free,” you grip his shoulders tightly to move up and down his thick length. “Just not at your office for anyone to see.”

“Ride me faster, cum, and no one will see us,” his hand cups the back for your neck to bring you close to his face, to kiss you greedily. “I will fill this cunt up all over again.”

“Hmm…daddy is so thick and hard for me,” an odds noise leaves John’s lips as he grabs your ass with his large hands to guide your movement.

“If you cum fast, I’ll cook for you tonight,” smiling John watches you wrap your arms around his neck. “Princess?”

“If you make me dinner, Sir,” you nibble at his neck, “you can have my cunt for dessert…”

Tags in reblog.

#The bastard #SPNKINKBINGO #j3bingo #john winchester #Professor Winchester #professor!John winchester x reader #student reader #smut #au john winchester #au john Winchester x reader #tw: daddy kink #tw: breeding

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

Okay so you know how there’s people who just make your day feel much better the minute they walk in the door? I take virtual classes and I have this classmate who’s the sweetest cinnamon roll to exist and the minute she logs in and greets everyone with a “Good morning” or “Good afternoon”, the atmosphere is just much better when she’s around. Can I request hc’s of the brothers reacting to an MC that just has immaculate vibes that makes everyone’s day much better with their presence? MC could just walk in a room and the air feels much lighter for no reason

As someone who's anti social and will hate everyone in public settings; I can't wait to meet that person that just livens up the room and makes me actually enjoy being there. Please tell that classmate her vibes are immaculate, brighten her day up like she does for you.

Lucifer:

Lucifer rubbed his throbbing temples

Ready to snap at the next person that entered the room

He was tired of how loud and obnoxious Everyone was

He was surrounded by idiots

When he heard the door open he immediately whipped around to go for their throat

But your voice reached his ears

"Sorry I'm late! Good morning everyone!"

All stress he was feeling just washed away

This wasn't unusual

You were always magically curing his bad mood most by entering the room, it made him just want to stay close to you

You were like a breath of fresh air after a stuffy hot bath

"you'll be forgiven, just sit down and stay silent."

He had you sit next to him, sighing in relief as his headache soothed

Mammon:

He cleared out his ear with his finger

He just got yelled at by Lucifer and was no in the worst mood

Aggressively picking up any clothes and fabreezed furiously at the living room

He slumped against the sofa as the smell drifted out of the air

You smiled, finally spotting the demon

"Mammon! Good afternoon!"

The frown on his face immediately swapped itself for an excited grin

He ran towards you and hugged you tight

"Lucifer's such an ass, soothe my sorrows human!"

"there there, you've already done good so far."

Levithan:

He didn't have his headphones with him, his hands covering his ears as his leg bounced

He was stuck in a crowded classroom

He was going to leave but he thought it was going to be so embarassing to leave as soon as others entered

He was already embarassed he was in the corner like this

Suddenly, you entered the room

"Good afternoon everyone! levi, I got your headphones!"

He texted you earlier about his headphones

"(Y/N)! You're a life saver!"

you sat on the table he was sitting at, helping him put on his headphones

He couldn't hear you now because they were sound canceling

His day immediately felt better having you here

You gave him a little wave and he thumped his head against the table, flustered

Satan:

He's been aggravated all morning

His usual calming tea was no where to he found and he couldn't tell who took it

But he had two main suspects:

Mammon and belphegor

Satan's fingers thumped against the counter, his palm slapping down the longer he did it

He was about to slam his hand down but Someone entered the kitchen

"good morning, Satan! How are you today?"

He turned around and smiled

His shoulders dropping as he shuffled over to you

"I'm doing splendid, are you free today? I'd liked to spend some with you today."

If it weren't for his usual methods of staying calm he'd follow you everywhere

He'd be a mammon 2.0 and he couldn't have that

You always made him feel at peace and happy

Whenever he felt down he'd came see you just to feel refreshed

Asmodeus:

He's got a face mask on, dressing gown, hair curlers and bunny slippers

No one talk this man in the morning or he will threaten you with a butter knife

But of course, his brother's don't care

He angrily sipped his overly sweet and decorated 'can it really be considered coffee?' coffee

His foot tapping as he hid in the corner

He was finally able to get away from his brothers antics

"asmo, I was wondering where you were! Good morning."

"I would kiss you right now but I have coffee breath, hold on won't you?"

Did in fact take the rest of his coffee like a shot, brush his teeth and kiss you

All annoying migraines mammon could not ruin how fuzzy you made him feel

He would always lean on you and sigh

Very vocal about how he feels towards you and what effect you have on him

Beezlebub:

It was time for breakfast

Beelzebub was of course the first to dig in and finish

As much as his brothers would be scared and worried if beel didn't eat

That didn't stop them from Making comments about how much he's eating

He wanted to leave, he could eat another time but he just ignored them

You finally made your way into the dining hall

Yawning and lazily waved at Everyone

"good morning everyone - oh, Beel, did you already finish? That's good, I don't feel hungry right now so you can have mine."

He's in 💕💓LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE💗💕❤️🧡♥️❤️🧡💜💖💕💓❤️💜🧡💕

"I'll wake you to class."

He knows he'll always feel happy whenever you enter the room

Really likes it when you two hold hands or when you help him calm down after a nightmare

whenever you're near he he goes from cold state grump to happy puppy

Belphegor:

He was sleeping in again

No one could really stop him seeing as it was the weekend

People actually respected his sleep unless they desperately needed him to be awake

He is not a good person to wake up next to unless he really likes you

But if he likes you it's just constant special treatment

He recently woke up and was trying to fall back asleep but he's slept so much already he couldn't do it

Wasn't in a good mood

"good afternoon, belphie, glad to see you're awake."

Immediately fine with being awake

So very happy to be awake and have you with him

"Hmm~ come cuddle with me, I need to wake up more."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beezlebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagine #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me x reader

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

Text

Southern Comfort, a Wii, and a big bowl of spaghetti.

Word Count - enough

Perspective - 2nd person

When - we’ve jumped back in time! This takes place right after That mangy hick!. If this intrigued you, be sure to click on this to find the rest of the Slowpoke Series.

Relationships - you and the gang! But you hop into Daryl’s truck for the final chunk of this story, making it’s just you and him for the final ride to the CDC. On that note, apologies for the poor photo of Daryl in his truck lugging around Merle’s bike.

Genre - a mixture. Starts off sad (RIP Jim), becomes more fluffy. You’ll see.

Pronouns - ain’t got none in this one

TWs - language. Personally, you end up owing two quarters, but that’s only for the words the kids hear you say...

“Stay here and rest a little more, okay weirdo?”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice, loser,” you’d replied to Shane. He and T-Dog were going to check out the gas station down the road for another hose for whatever was going wrong with the RV. The radiator maybe? You don’t know mechanic stuff.

“I'll be back. Love you, okay?” Shane had been repeating that a lot more than usual since the attack last night. “And drink up that coke while I'm gone so you don’t pass out or nothin’,” he’d insisted, eyes on the unopened can of root beer in your hands. You weren’t sure why you were carrying it around at the time. Maybe so that Daryl would see that you appreciated the kind gesture of giving it to you.

Anyway, at least your migraine had subsided enough that you were able to be up and about (relatively). And good thing, because right after Shane and T-Dog headed off to the gas station, Jacqui had run out of the RV in tears about Jim.

Rick had immediately headed in, asking you to come check, too. You may have had the bare minimum of medical training, but what you could offer, you would. Giving Jim some NSAIDs and dabbing his skin with wet rags might have been like putting bandaids over a stab wound, but it was something.

But apparently, it wasn’t enough. Jim wanted to be left to die.

All of the adults were then discussing it outside, Shane and T-Dog having returned with the part needed (thank you Lord above).

The idea isn’t sitting well with many of you. Yes, Jim is in extreme pain and it's highly likely that he's dying anyways. So far, the fever somebody developed after a bite had proved fatal within a day or two. And yes, there isn't much chance that the CDC has a cure. But nothing is certain, which meant there's still a chance.

And even if he ends up dying anyway, the idea that you all are to simply leave him to die alone? Instead of trying to lessen his pain more? Instead of being with him in his last moments? It just doesn’t sit right.

Even if Jim said that he wants it that way, it still does not sit right. Is he even in his right mind to ask for such a thing? And should you leave him to become one of those things, or is it more responsible to wait until he turns to put him down? Or should he be put down before that point? Ugh!

“We just leave him here? Take off?” your brother asks, too tired to react with much emotion.

Shane still isn’t himself, not after last night. Not himself in the slightest.

On top of whatever he is feeling over Lori, he’s more than a little disheartened and worried that you were all going to the CDC instead of to Fort Benning. Even after you’d voiced your fear that a military fort would be the ideal place if you wanted to risk it falling into martial law enforced by scared jarheads with inflated egos and very powerful weapons. But Shane still held out hope that things wouldn’t get to that point. And a part of you wondered if he wasn’t just confident that even if they did, he’d be on the winning side. That worried you.

Not to mention that little power struggle between him and Rick. Shane backing down after shouldering the leadership since the onset would be difficult in itself, but was more so because the person to whom he was backing down—as much as he loves Rick as a brother—is making decisions that he believes might very well cost you all your lives.

You’re leaning next to him on your right, his arm around your shoulders, with Andrea leaning against your left side.

Dale just finished saying something, and now no one seems to know what to do.

In a sort of desperation, Shane looks at Rick. “Man, I’m not sure I could live with that.”

But he has to know, as Rick has to have already come to terms with, that ultimately they're powerless over it. God, this is shitty.

“It’s not your call,” Lori reminds them. “Either one of you.”

And so, you watch as Shane swallows his tears, nods in acknowledgment, and grits his teeth in defeat. Rick seems to be avoiding eye contact with everyone, but Lori takes his hand in hers for a while.

Everyone looks empty. You’re glad that the kids are playing in the station wagon right now. That little haven you’d all shared since the world ended was gone, and you have to accept that another one of your own was not going to make it.

Shane squeezes you in an embrace, then heads with Rick inside the RV to get Jim.

Carol and Lori wrap Jacqui in their arms to comfort her, then try to explain to the kids what was happening in a simple way. Carl looks confused and upset, and Sophia is tightly hugging the doll that Eliza gave her.

T-Dog and Glenn are reacting to the decision to leave Jim by pacing and letting the tears flow as they will.

As for you, you share a tired, sad look with Andrea and remain silent. No point in speaking. Dale simply walks over and clasps you two in a side hug, mumbling “What a day, huh, kiddos?”

And Daryl is very quiet, standing off to the side a as usual. But, he eventually moves closer and asks how your head feels.

“I don’t think I’ll have to amputate it, anymore,” you lightly joke. Your heart and stomach is in knots over Jim, so you feel weird about using humor at a time like this.

Looking into your eyes for a moment, Daryl makes a little hum in response and one corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

And then, Rick and Shane emerge from the RV carefully carrying Jim out, and you all follow towards the grove of trees.

The poor man even finds it in himself to joke about being put under a tree again, bless him.

You hate this. You hate what he wants you all to do, and you hate that he was bitten and had to make the choice in the first place.

Shane’s eyes are red as he again begs, “Hey man. I mean—you know, it doesn’t need to be this.”

But Jim looks at peace as he breathes “No. It’s okay.” He's gonna be with his family again soon, after all.

Jacqui goes to him next, and through her tears, gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Just close your eyes, sweetie. Don’t fight.” They’d been close, that much you knew.

When Rick says his goodbyes, he offers him a revolver, to…you know.

Jim declines, stating that you’d all need it, before repeating again that he is okay.

Dale does his best to keep his tears in check when he says his goodbyes, then it's your turn. You end up making a blessing on Jim’s forehead like your mama sometimes did, and ask if he was sure that he wanted to be alone for the end. “We’ll wait. Jim, we’ll stay with you ‘til the end, we want to.”

But again, he shakes his head and says that he's okay.

Your lip wobbles and you hang your head. This is his end, you have to accept it. “You said your family was Jewish, right? Are th-there any prayers you want said?”

Closing his eyes again, this time Jim nods, and tells you the words to a short, simple prayer, then thanks you. You try to repeat it in your head a few times so you don’t forget them while everyone else goes to him.

The familiar, numb fog settles around you, and before you can digest it, the group is walking towards the cars.

Glenn and you touch each other’s arms in solidarity, and he politely asks if your headache is gone.

As you start to answer, you fall silent upon looking back to see Daryl still hanging around Jim. You can’t tell if they’re speaking, but that crossbow in Daryl’s hands is troubling you. Then you watch as Daryl’s head nods once before he turns away and starts towards you.

“For a sec," Glenn says quietly, slowly exhaling the breath he'd been holding. "I was worried he was gonna drive a bolt through Jim’s head.”

“For a sec there, I think I was, too.” You realize you’d also been holding your breath. “Daryl can be...confusin’ sometimes.”

“‘Confusing’ is one word for it.”

"‘Troubling?’”

“Closer.”

“How about ‘work in progress?’"

“Very diplomatic.”

With a gentle elbow to Glenn's side, you 'diplomatically' turn around and wave Daryl over. “C’mon, join us.” Though, you aren’t sure what that look he gives you both means. You just don’t want anybody in your group to feel alone right now; mangy, fiery, work-in-progress hicks included.

This also means that when Glenn unwittingly made that little groan in displeasure when you waved Daryl over, you grumble back at him.

“Important question: what do y’all want to do when we get to the CDC?” you ask them. Stupid question, actually, but today and yesterday have been very, very bad.

“To get my own white lab coat embroidered with my name,” Glenn decides, and remarkably quickly even if he still sounds on the verge of tears.

Daryl doesn’t answer anything. Which is fine, you can blab with Glenn about nonsense all day. “I will be very pleased to crash early after turnin’ my brain to mush playing video games. Ain’t no better way to get out of your head.” Speaking of which, if your brain could actually turn to mush for another hour or so until the migraine fully went away, you won’t complain.

“Video games?” Glenn checks. If you were in a laughing mood, you’d be laughing your butt off at his tone of voice. “At the…Centers for Disease Control?”

“Well, I'm hopin' they snuck some kind of system into the break room. What kind of self-respecting scientists would they be otherwise? ” Your smile is weak, but still there.

Glenn returns your smile and rubs his hands together when he says, “Heck yeah. So, what are we playing?”

“They’re scientists, so I’m guessing they might would have a Wii, if anything,” you venture, massaging your neck and shoulder on the side that hurts.

You get the hoped-for chuckle you’d been after, and Glenn of course mentions “If they do, I guess I’ll have to whup you in Mario Kart just like I do on runs.”

“Careful, buttface, 'cause I’ll knock your ass right off Rainbow Road,” you playfully threaten, the sadness feeling not quite as heavy as before.

“Quarter,” you all hear a little voice say.

Shit, you hadn’t noticed that Sophia and Carl were right there. Now you owe them one quarter apiece for your cuss. “Dang it.”

“Quar—oh, I thought you were gonna say the real one,” Carl corrects himself. He and Sophia still have that uncertain, sad look on their faces after everything that had happened.

“Which real one d’you mean?” you ask him, your expression thoroughly confused (in the hopes of tricking him, that is).

“The d-a-m one.”

“It’s spelled d-a-m-n, weirdly enough,” you let him know. With a little frown, you add “You prolly guessed I was aimin’ for you to say the actual word, that way I’d only owe Sophia one?”

He gives you a cautious smile in return, as if he's unsure if he’s allowed to do that yet.

Sophia quietly says, “My mom and I are gonna ride in the Jeep with Mr. Walsh—well, your brother and Carl.”

“That’ll be nice to feel the breeze on your face awhile, huh?” By now, you, Glenn, Daryl and the kids are with the rest of the group at the cars. “Just make sure he don’t drive too fast, okay little one?”

“Okay,” she promises softly, and heads over to the Jeep with Carl.

“So, um, this time, do you wanna ride in the RV with me? Um, with us, w-with Dale and me? Andrea’s gonna hop in too, she and Jacqui are switching cars,” Glenn stumbles through asking you.

“I kinda need to crash for a little longer,” you say, relieved that you have an excuse to avoid the fact that you may not only have a crush on Glenn, but that it might be mutual. That’s terrifying.

“Right, yeah, wouldn’t want your headache to get worse again or stuff, right?” he quickly nods.

You are telling Glenn the truth, you do need to sleep off, or at least rest, in silence until your migraine had completely ebbed. And, well, Shane’s Jeep already has four people in it, since Carol and the kids are joining him.

That breeze is not conducive to rest, anyway, as fun and relaxing as it can feel. And the station wagon with Rick and Lori has a whole backseat free, but you aren’t about to intrude on their private time. You suppose that T-Dog’s church van has ample space, but you wish to ensure that Jacqui can speak freely about what’s weighing her without worrying about waking you up or feeling self-conscious.

And yes, you know that you can ride in the RV with Glenn, Andrea, and Dale and that there is plenty of space and it would be quiet enough. But privacy would be nice, especially since you still have that tiny crush on Glenn.

But what’s more is that you truly do desire that no one in the group to feel lonely or left out. So, before Daryl can get too far, you say something that you never imagined you’d be asking: “May I ride in your truck with you?”

He slows down for a moment. “Yeah sure, whatever. I got space.”

Cool, okay. "Thank you." It passes through your thoughts that you really hope there aren’t needles or little baggies of meth or bottles of oxycontin lying around in it.

You jog to Teddy’s van to grab your pillow and water bottle (bad idea to jog, the increase in blood pressure made your head pound), then walk back and hop into the truck.

Smells like cigarettes, but not too strongly, plus the windows are open. It’s a little messy and dirty, too, as you expected, with a few empty root beer cans and regular beer cans on the ground, and one little nipper of – peach schnapps? Cute.

Then you put the can of soda he’d given you, still yet-to-be-opened, in the cup holder along with your water bottle, and buckle up. “Thank you again, Daryl.”

“Just try not to upchuck in here, alright?” Is he joking or serious? Maybe both. He can be so damned grating that it's hard to tell sometimes.

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, then wait two seconds for comedic effect. “If I have to, I wasn’t gonna get sick in here as much as on you.”

He does snort in amusement at that, and his voice sounds gentler when he repeats “Just lemme know if you need me to pull over, okay?”

“Will do.” Then you wedge your pillow under the chest strap of your seat belt and settle against the half-open window, mindful to not rest your head in a way that would press against that big bruise you have on your jaw. The last thing you recall is trying to massage your neck a little more so you can drift off again…

And suddenly, you’re sitting back up and the skies have clouded over significantly. “Whoa, how long’ve I been out?”

“Not too long. We just slowed down so some of them could switch cars again. Head’s good?”

“All better.” Thank God. Rubbing your eyes and stretching, you yawn. “Dude, was I snoring?”

“S’fine.” That means yes. And now that silly part of you is embarrassed at how snoring isn’t attractive; why should you care about looking attractive when you were asleep and not feeling well?

You open your water bottle to have a long gulp and look over to check the clock on the dash—until something else catches your eye. “Dude, your seat belt!”

“What?”

“You ain’t wearing it.” This whole drive? Of course he wouldn’t wear his seat belt, damned redneck tough guy who can’t be bothered. “Please don’t shrug it off, c’mon Daryl, your safety is still important even if the world’s ended. Heck, it’s especially important now.”

“Ain’t that big a deal…”

Well at least he has the decency to trail off. Ugh! “It is when you’re carefully pryin’ a dude out of his windshield and hoping he’ll live long enough to make it to the ER. When they don’t just get shot clean through it.”

“Did you…actually have to do that?” he asks. He didn’t ask it rudely, though, he seemed genuine.

But you don’t answer, because your answer shouldn’t matter. This is about his safety, bottom line. “C’mon, man, please put it on?”

He seems mildly annoyed but reaches over, yanks the seat belt, and clicks it. But then he shimmies out of the chest strap so he’s only in the lap belt. Of course.

“Daryl.” You breathe and try to calm yourself so you don’t sound too irritated. “A person can slide clean out of the lap belt if they don’t got on the chest strap, too.”

He curses under his breath a little as he loops his arm back under the chest strap. “Happy?”

“Very. I’m just glad you’re safer.”

“So were you gonna be a traffic cop or somethin’?”

“I look like a bootlicker to you?” You say this as a joke to ease the tension...

“Says the one who’s big brother and his best friend are cops, who pays a quarter per cuss, and who won’t litter even after the world’s gone to hell,” he tosses back.

“You’re still grumpy about that? Ditching trash anywhere is nasty, man.”

“We got damned zombies that smell like death and shit, who chow down on people. That’s nasty.”

“So why make the world even nastier?” you counter gently.

“It don’t fuckin’ matter, damn.” He sounds very annoyed at this point.

“It still matters, just like wearing a seat belt. We’re still alive, ain’t we?”

“Jesus,” he curses.

Oh no. Why did it have to be that one? That’s one of the top things that riles you up! “For the love of – please, don’t use that name that way, Daryl.”

“‘Jesus?’”

“It’s shitty to go around usin’ a deity as an expletive,” you explain through grit teeth. You’d tried to say it calmly, but like come on! It’s shitty to go around thoughtlessly (or purposefully!) using a deity as an expletive!

“Bet you also got a problem if I called T-Dog or Jacqui a ni—”

“—Don’t even finish that sentence, you piece of shit!”

Wellll, there goes your cool. Was he actually gonna say that word, though? Screw him, the goddamned stereotype!

“Fuckin’ naggy bitch,” he hisses, unbuckling and flinging off his seat belt as he says it.

Really? “You serious right now, Daryl? Just pull the fuck over, asshole!”

And he sure does, barking “Good! And you can get the hell out of my damned truck!” before that dickhead veers sharply and jolts the car to a stop.

—But because he wasn’t in his seat belt…you watch in disbelief as he gets thrown forward and smacks his head on the steering wheel right as you’re giving him the finger.

Well, shit.

And you’re too surprised (and quite frankly, satisfied) at this turn of events to do anything but gape for a few seconds.

In his own embarrassed shock, he shouts “Son of a bitch, we serious?” to no one in particular. Then he shoots his stare over at you, who are still frozen in place with your middle finger up as you just dumbly stare back like a deer in headlights.

“C’mon, put that shit down,” he says regarding your *ahem* very friendly gesture. Aw, now he’s covering up his face.

You blink and of course stop flipping him the bird. Then a very awkward, tense silence fills up the truck. Rick and Shane and T-Dog and Dale seem to be competing over the radios to ask the fastest if everything was okay, and why we were stopping the caravan, and to make sure that the windows were rolled up, etc.

And since you’d given the yellow walkie-talkie to the kids to borrow for the car ride, Carl and Sophia’s voices also join the chorus through your little green walkie. The pink walkie that had been Amy’s was still in your bag, turned off. You need to clean it, her, um…her blood is on it.

Tentatively, you whisper to Daryl “You ain’t..bleedin’ or nothing, right?”

“No.”

“Any dizziness or nausea? Pain into your neck?”

“…No.” You almost don’t hear the next part: “Except the one ridin' shotgun…”

And dammit, you suddenly find yourself trying not to laugh.

“Don’t,” he rasps back, his tone of voice betraying that he's also trying not to.

Letting your laughter spill out, you giggle, “Want me to tell them we’re okay, or do you?”

With a groan, he uses the grown-up radio to say “We’re good, it’s nothin’,” while you reply on the children’s radio to explain “We swerved and stopped to avoid hittin’ something.” You hate lying, but it’s not so bad in this instance, right?

“What were you gonna hit?” the kids ask, voices high with curiosity. Carol and your brother are in the background with the same question. Poop, now you gotta lie more.

“Might could’ve been a stray dog or a fox? But it’s all good, we missed it,” you answer smoothly, holding back another laugh.

And so, Daryl presses the gas and the caravan continues.

“Ain’t much further, I think,” he says quietly. And with a side glance at you, he clicks his seat belt back on. “Happy?” he grumbles.

Still trying not to grin too big, you just exhale and reply instead with “Hey, you never said what you wanted to do once we got there.”

“Because there prolly ain’t no one there. Or they won’t let us in.”

You take another deep breath. He’s probably right. “You wanna play Wii with me and Glenn?”

“What is that, though?”

“A Wii?”

“It’s like a game thing, right?”

“Yeah, it’s this, um, Nintendo thing and you wave around the controllers. Like if you play tennis, you gotta swing it like a racket. It’s fun.”

“That why they call it that?”

“Huh?” Oh wait, now you get it. “You mean like ‘whee, so fun!’ You know, I dunno why they call it that. It’s spelled w-i-i. But it is really fun.”

The silence settles between you two again, but less tense and awkward than before. It's comfortable, actually.

After a minute or so, he shrugs. “Guess I wouldn’t mind gettin’ wasted.” A pause. “Or are we only allowed to pick kid stuff?” he adds, to your annoyance.

You have to crack up again, though. “You realize Glenn and I ain’t too much younger than you.”

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, good,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him in a purposefully childish way. And victory, that made him snort.

“But really, I’d be fine just gettin’ shitfaced and crashing somewhere where we don’t gotta worry about no geeks,” he says.

“Fair enough. What would you drink?”

“Alcohol.”

“So funny,” you monotone.

“Beer?” he clarifies. Barely.

“Oh, that reminds me – the root beer you gave me! Do you…want it back cause we got all huffy?”

“What? No.” He takes his eyes off the road to look at it back in his cup holder. “Did you…not want it?”

“I ain’t said that.”

“You also ain’t drank it.”

“Hey! We’ll use it as a mixer and share it once we get to the CDC. That sounds good, right?”

He shrugs again. Definitely reluctant to play along. “…What are we mixin’ the root beer with?”

You peer at him and try to figure out what he would mix in. And you draw a blank. “L-liquor…?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t drink, neither?”

“I just don’t like that spinny feelin’ you get if you have too much too fast, it feels too out of control,” you admit. “But I've had tequila a few times, it's delicious.”

“Tequila? Damn, Y/N.”

“Yes, I’m very cool, you should be impressed.”

He snorts lightly again, then continues to chat. “Root beer would go pretty good with SoCo, I guess.”

With what? “So-co?” Isn’t that slang for Southern California?

Daryl actually laughs out loud when you say that, which makes you remember what it actually stands for, but dang it, he beats you to it. “Southern Comfort, it’s this spiced, sorta fruity tastin’ liquor. Southern California is So-Cal.”

“I know, I know!” you sputter, giggling despite yourself.

“Yeah, sure seems like it.”

Oh my gosh, this is fun! You're having fun! With Daryl Dixon, of all people! “You’re the one bein’ all fancy calling it SoCo like we're in a Starbucks.”

“Shut up,” he says, elbowing you. Yes, Daryl Dixon just elbowed you.

So, naturally you have to joke and elbow him back that “Oh my gosh, Daryl, are we becomin’ best friends?”

“Shut up.” It's cool, though, he's got a smile on.

“I’ll braid us some of them cute little bracelets—ooh, or anklets!”

“Stop.”

“Oh, please, I am delightful.” Ow, all this laughing is making your jaw hurt. You lightly press your fingertips to the bruise and pull down the sun visor so you can use the mirror on it to look at—oh, never mind, his doen’t have a mirror on the passenger sun visor. New tactic, you use the side view mirror out the window even though it’s fairly overcast.

You still can’t believe you’d tried to beat up Ed Pelletier. You still can’t believe that he’s dead now, either.

Him. Amy. Merle (most likely). All the others…and now Jim. Was it awful that you and Daryl were laughing just now? After everything that happened?

“It hurt?” Daryl cuts in.

“Nah, ain’t no big thing. Least it makes me look very cool and tough, right?” you brush it off, trying to sound as upbeat as you were a moment ago.

After an extra moment of silence, he grunts “He deserved it.”

Daryl might been trying to be kind, but you aren’t sure. “…I ain’t so keen on that word these days, to be honest,” you mumble quietly.

“What word?”

“‘Deserved…’”

“Why?”

“It don’t matter.” Best change the subject. “Man, are you as hungry as I am right now?”

“Damned starvin’,” he agrees. “Could eat a whole—oh shit, look.”

“What is it?”

“Sign for Emory University.” He adjusts himself and sits more upright. “Rick and your brother said once we saw them signs, we’d be close.”

“Shoot, really?”

“You nervous?” Daryl checks.

“You ain’t?” Even the skies looked ominous. There's a storm coming in, no doubts about it. Gray skies, wind picking up, and the sun was almost set…

“We’ll be fine,” he decides, and a quiet settles again.

Road Closed Ahead signs were showing up. Detour signs. You almost don’t hear it when Daryl says “So long as they got SoCo and that thing, right?”

That thing? What thing? Oh, did he mean: “A Wii?”

“Yeah, that thing. So long as they got SoCo and a Wii.”

You have to shake your head. And your smile is bigger than you thought you’d be able to make after the past couple of days and with the looming dread pooling in your stomach. “Southern Comfort, a Wii, and a big bowl of spaghetti,” you echo.

“Hell yeah. Southern Comfort, a Wii, and a big bowl of spaghetti.”

And there it was up ahead. The CDC.

The caravan pulls over and the vehicles are shut off one by one. Everyone leaves their things in the car, minus their weapons. Those you all keep with you and have primed and ready.

Because why the fuck are there so many dead bodies in front of it?

121 notes · View notes

shingia · 3 years

Note

i’m not sure if you’ve gotten this request before (feel free to ignore if u have loll) but could i request how hq boys would help u when ur hungover.... cause i am big time rn LMAO please and thanks <33

✗ HQ BOYS WHEN YOU’RE HUNGOVER ✗

the way i ran to my drafts to start writing this omg 🏃🏻‍♀️ ngl it almost made me miss being hungover <\33 anyways- hope you’ll feel better v soon and are taking care of your poor hungover self 😽

-> timeskip! kita, kuroo, tsukishima, suna, oikawa

-> warnings : mentions of alcohol (for obvious reasons), mentions of throwing up and mentions of food

— KITA

• this man knows how to handle a hangover better than anyone

• he’s a moderate drinker, but his grandmother’s books contain the cure to everything and he’s more than willing to make you benefit from his knowledge

• he will make you drink these three bottles of water, that bowl of tomato soup and that banana milkshake with a tablespoon of honey. dehydration ? he doesn’t know her

• but kita also knows how important it is to not stay in bed all day, so he’ll insist on having you spend at least thirty minutes outside in the fresh air, most probably in your backyard

• you can refuse, of course. but he’ll take away your cuddle privilege immediately, so~ your choice

• also expect a lot a few disapproving looks,,, because as much as he loves to pamper you, he can’t help but remember the dozens of times he told you you’d had enough to drink last night. obviously you didn’t listen

• i think would disapprovingly care : like- lecturing you under his breath as he sprays essential oils on your bedsheets or tests the temperature of the bath water before letting you in

• remember the cuddle privilege i talked about? yeah, that’s going to be your reward at the end of the day for not being stubborn and docilely following his instructions

• with freshly perfumed bedsheets and his natural body warmth, you’re likely to fall asleep in five second tops. but that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave you, quite the contrary. no, this man will continue to take care of you in your sleep

• and by that i mean belly rubs to make sure your nausea is gone when you wake up, or gentle head massages to make your migraine go away. he might even brush your hair so that you won’t wake up with knots

• he doesn’t even expect you to thank him, because « isn’t that what all husbands are supposed to do ? »

— KUROO

• he’s probably hungover too because he had to finish half of your drinks,,, yet it still wasn’t enough to prevent you from waking up with the biggest headache

• in other words : dimmed lights all day. he might not even open the blinds. and to be honest he likes these kind of vibes

• sure, it feels like your brains are about to explode, and every single part of your body is aching (eyelashes included), but it’s cozy and your minds are too fogged to worry about anything other than getting better- so it’s self care and self care only today

• it’s likely that none of you will feel like eating something, but kuroo’s an athlete : he knows better than to skip a meal, especially when you both feel so weak

• so he’ll sacrifice himself and make the grueling effort of leaving the bed to cook you a little something, nothing extravagant but still enough to reinvigorate the two of you

• and since you don’t have anything better to do, you guys decide to watch the videos you took during the party,,, and slowly come to the realization that you have very few memories of what happened

• « is that you dancing on that table ? » you ask him, pointing at the man who is just a second away from tripping on a napkin

• lifting his shorts, kuroo glances at the bruise on the upper part of his thigh : « ohh- well that explains a lot »

• chances are that, because of his built, kuroo will feel better before you. so the true pampering will come later in the evening

• he’s got vitamins, ibuprofens, blankets, and his arms ready for you. you’re in for the deepest sleep of your life

— TSUKISHIMA

• « i told you so »™️

• you would wake up feeling like absolute crap and he would be eyeing you, standing next to the bed with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised : « how are we feeling ? », even though the answer is pretty obvious

• but he knows that sarcasm won’t get him anywhere so he tries to tone it down (try to)

• you might think he’s not going to do much, but as soon as you step out of the shower he forced you to take (even though you were exhausted), you realize that he did do much

• the clothes you wore last night are already in the washing machine, your new ones (most probably his) are neatly folded on your bed, waiting for you, and he’s cooking an anti-hungover meal that he looked up on the internet

• if he has to study while you’re getting some rest in the bedroom he will put reminders on his phone every 15mn to come and check on you

• and he never leaves the room without lifting the covers up to your shoulders to make sure you won’t get cold

• he also wets a towel and gives it to you to place over your eyes if they’re sore

• but as soon as he’s done studying, he joins you in bed with greatest pleasure. and it’s a good thing that tsukki loves comfortable silences, because neither of you feel like saying anything

• you’re just laying there, letting him keep track of time since you’re too busy enjoying being pampered that much

— SUNA

• blackmail material for YEARS (in addition to the videos and pictures he took of you during the party)

• he turns this into a vlog, you could be half-asleep on the couch and hear him talk to the camera from the kitchen like « so here i am making pasta for this lightweight who threw up all night... i’m still waiting for my boyfriend of the year’s award... »

• but really, he’s just being dramatic. deep down he loves to take care of you when you’re hungover because you get much clingier,,, so he allows himself to be clingier too

• as much as he loves to lay down on top of you, the roles are reversed this time. because being crushed by a 6’3 tall man while you’re hungover is probably not a very good idea

• but before these lazy cuddles, he wants to make sure you’re comfortable : so he’ll remove your makeup (if you wore any) and give you his clothes because he knows you like how oversize they are

• so yes, naps and water are definitely the keywords of the day, but tell him once that you crave one specific food and he’ll immediately go get it for you

• he’s also surprisingly careful with any possible headache, so he’ll keep his earphones on while scrolling on his phone to make sure you can rest in complete silence

• however, at some point he will hand you his phone and have you record a video for your future self. something along the lines of : « hi y/n, this is you from the past. i feel like absolute shit right now so please be more reasonable next time... and don’t let rin get more embarrassing pictures of us »

• and you can be sure that he’ll use this video as a threat next time you’re partying. he would just have to point at his phone from the other side of the room and you would understand what he means

— OIKAWA

• he’s not the person to call if you want to be talked out of partying ever again

• because not only does he spend the entire day praising you highly for the way you looked yesterday, but you also realize that he loves your drunk self (as long as he’s here to watch over you)

• he doesn’t mind you complaining because he’s had a few hangovers of his own,, so feel free to whine about your stomachache/headache all you want

• and if you throw up ? it’s ok, he’s got you. and he’s not leaving your side unless you ask him to

• literally, he spends the entire day babying you. you’re feeling too tired to brush your teeth ? no problem, he’ll have you sit on the edge of the bathtub and do it for you

• same goes for washing your hair or getting dressed : there’s nothing he’ll refuse

• if your head doesn’t hurt too much, he’ll offer to watch a stupid tv show in front of which you can fall asleep without missing anything important

• and he’ll make sure to get the right cuddle position right away because he knows you’ll probably fall asleep very quickly and he doesn’t want to wake you up by fidgeting under you

• also: expect many many scalp massages. and his hands are the softest so they feel absolutely divine

• i think oikawa knows a lot about hydration so he’ll probably make you drink something like sugary water to give you a little boost. and if you don’t trust this drink, he’ll try again with another one until you’re completely hydrated

• and as i said, he’s very supportive,, almost too much : « you finished your glass ! i’m proud of you baby! »

taglist : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @kelsuuki @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac @ijustwantfreenetflix @mimaki @maitenight

#reblogs are very cool 👉🏼👈🏼#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #kita shinsuke x reader #kita headcanons #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo headcanons #suna rintarou x reader #suna headcanons #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa headcanons #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima headcanons #tw alchohol mention #tw alcohol #tw: alcohol

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 3 years

Text

BTS Scenario: An omega arrives in your pack (Hyungline x alpha/beta fem!reader)

Summary: An omega joining a pack is a blessing - an unmated one is a miracle. So when the village elder came to you not with authority in her eyes but pity and pleading for understanding, you had no choice but to let him go.

Or, an omega joins the pack and you’re an alpha/beta in a relationship with another alpha. The community asks for your sacrifice. Warnings/Notes: Implied Smut, slight ass play, Angst, Drabble (no resolution... yet) I wanted to explore a different dynamic in the ABO Universe, since it’s usually Alpha BTS x Omega Reader but how about the Beta or even the Alpha reader? Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 2k+ (500 per drabble)

KIM SEOKJIN

(after he’s called to participate in the matching, and Jungkook is an unmated male omega who’s always had a crush on you) (though crush is a understatement)

He’s here for a final goodbye, you think as you allow him to push you back against the wall.

He kisses you with desperation, all teeth and tongue, as if he wants to devour you whole. He reeks of her but you push it at the back of your mind, together with your instinct to gain the upper hand.

If this is goodbye, let it be as soft as you two could be.

You close your eyes to blink back the tears and wrap your arms around his neck. You match his passion kiss after kiss until you both are panting, breathing in each other.

Seokjin slows it down and pulls at your shirt, slipping it off your head. His eyes are wan, and he hasn’t met your gaze the whole time. It feels wrong, but then again, everything is.

So you try to bring back some normalcy and let the urgency in your touch show. Your arms slid down his shoulder, pushing him back into your room, your strength easily matching his.

In the dark of the room, you tug at his shirt but Seokjin grasps your hand away from his chest. You thought he’s going to lead you to his cock just as he did many times before, but he pulls you closer until there’s no more space between your chest and his and leads your hand to his hole.

He’s dry as the dessert but her pushes your hand closer, until your fingers tap his puckered hole.

You can feel him force himself not to tense up, breathing deeply and dropping his head to your shoulder. His back is caved over you, like a tall child and he turns to graze his lips against your ear.

“I’ll let you fuck me too, if that’s what you want, jagi.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. Your other hand tries to push his chest away but his other arm wraps around your shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.

He keeps still in the crook of your neck, murmuring words you never imagined you’ll hear from the alpha, “I’ll moan like he did. Beg like he did.” His voice shakes, and you startle at the tears wetting your skin. It doesn’t even occur to you to wonder how he knew about Jungkook, and what had transpired the night before because here he is.

He’s crying. Your alpha is crying.

“Just please don’t leave me.”

MIN YOONGI

(Your love for Yoongi knows no bounds, you can give him this. In which your arranged marriage is thwarted.)

“It’s a good thing we’re not bonded yet, huh?”

You try not to wince at the relief in his voice and instead you laugh, hoping that the dark is enough to conceal the wobble on your lip.

You are both lying on your bed, exhausted by your hours long of… what do you call it again? Ah, he did call it his favorite recreational activity. He figured sexual compatibility is an important factor in arrange marriages earlier on your engagement.

And you, in love with him for more than half your life, said yes.

His fingers are playing with your hair, while his other hand lifts a lit cigarette to his lips. He glances down at you, his cat-like eyes half-lidded.

“You want a smoke?”

Pulling the blanket higher to your chest, relishing in the slight flicker of interest in his eyes, you shake your head. “Actually, can you not smoke on my bed tonight?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but says nothing and puts out his cigarette against the ash tray on your bedside table. Usually, you take up on his offer, and he’s not gonna lie and say that the image of your lips around a cigarette doesn’t stir his cock alive.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, the only time you refused his offer was whenever you’re feeling the drop after your activities. But usually, you’ll tell him outright, communication being as open as you both could.

You let a small smile touch your lips at his tone. He cares for you, you know, maybe not as much as you want him to, but it’s enough.

Or it used to be enough.

“Just a mild migraine,” you lie before pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

Yoongi smiles and kisses the crown of your head, “You know what cures migraines?”

Your smile grows wider as you look up to his grin, his hand already sliding down the small of your back under your blankets. “I think I have an idea.”

By the time he’s pulled out 3 more orgasms from you, the moon has started fading from the night sky. The brisk winter air entering your room by the open window, drawing goosebumps on your skin.

Beside you, Yoongi sits up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re not staying the night?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “The trials start the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to get a head start.”

Your press your lips together, your hand sneaking down your belly. You imagine your child, the size of a pea, hoping they do not hear your breaking heart. “I thought you didn’t like being choices taken away from you.”

That was one of the major points of discussion when your parents arranged your marriage. It’s also a source of your many arguments at the start, before slowly becoming some sort of unwanted roommate in your makeshift relationship.

Yoongi pauses, there’s something in your voice that he can’t pinpoint. He turns to you, for once, you are unreadable. “This is different.”

“Oh,” you breathe. How so, you want to ask. How come a choice robbed by our secondary natures so much different than the ones robbed by our parents? How come it’s the lesser evil in your eyes?

How come I was never a palatable choice in the first place?

But you don’t. Instead, Yoongi presses on. “At least now, you know, if it turns out that it’s me, you’re free. You can go to university just like you want.”

“Yeah…” you chuckle dryly, “Well, good luck then.”

You don’t beg him to stay, you’re an alpha too and an alpha protects their pack. As your hand travels down to your belly again, you remember - you have your own to protect now too.

JUNG HOSEOK

(You’re just his best friend. What can you say?)

“She smells like lilacs! No, wait, honey! Honey and cream.” Hoseok sighs, all lovestruck on your couch over the new omega girl in town.

As part of the search party that found her, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks. Giving you updates on her recovery in the beginning, and then her smile, her eyes, and the way she laughs as time went by.

At first, you didn’t mind. An omega joining the pack is a blessing, given their rarity. They symbolize fertility and bounty, and you are nothing if not loyal to the community. You foster the village children as their teacher, you teach them the ropes of the land - how to feed the cows, how to plant the seeds, and how to prepare for harvest - after all.

But as time went by, as Hoseok’s visits to her home frequent and his visits to yours lessen, it’s become harder and harder to keep the bitter thoughts away. Hoseok may still visit you, but when was the last time you two talked about anything other than her?

“The trials for her mate starts next week,” Hoseok starts, almost as if waiting for you to say something, “I’m thinking of participating.”

From the kitchen, you tighten your hold on the tray balancing your tea and snacks. Without a wobble, you inquire as you step back into your living room, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he picks up one of your cookies, suddenly looking all bashful, “I’m unmated and I’m not getting younger so, might as well give it a shot you know?”

You frown behind your tea cup, “We’re barely past our mid-20s, Seok-ie, that hardly qualifies as old.”

Hoseok leans back and tilts his head on the back of your couch until it hangs in relaxation. “It’s different between you and I.”

It’s true, betas are not so pressured to reproduce early. After all, there’s nothing special to be had in your genes, you think bitterly.

“Besides,” he continues, “I think I like her. You know, maybe we should invite her next time we hang out! You can get to know her too!”

“I’d rather not.” It spills over your lips before you could control it, and Hoseok stiffens before turning his gaze to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Hoseok teases, unaware at how his words hit home.

You stiffen, biting your lip before the dam breaks. “Maybe I am.” you whisper.

He blinks in surprise at the feebleness of your tone, “B-but… you’re a beta.”

You know. You know your place, in this village and in his life but somehow it’s different hearing it from him. Standing, you turn away to step back into your kitchen when a hand grasps your wrist.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok whispers, trying to look up to your face but thwarted by your hair. He doesn’t need to see your watering eyes to know there are tears in them. He’s reeling from the sudden change of atmosphere, smelling your distress in the air.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the sense of inferiority and your heart caves into itself. With the last of your strength, you shake off his hold, pointing to the door.

“I think it’s best you leave.”

KIM NAMJOON

(Namjoon has always been a man of duty, and though you are tough and strong, there are limits to what you can and will endure)

You pride yourself to be level-headed, calm, and objective unlike many of the alphas in the pack. You’ve never lost your control, or flown into fury even during your youth but at this very moment, you summon all your discipline to keep your lips from pulling back and snarling at the older alpha in front of you.

How dare she?

How dare they ask this of you?

“It is his duty.” She repeats and beside you, Namjoon is silent. Eyes straight ahead, back as rigid as the trees outside your home. The home that you two built for your children that will come after your wedding.

The wedding that’s supposed to be in a month.

But the longer Namjoon stays silent, the farther that future seems to be. By the time the elder leaves your home, you don’t even see a speck of it in your mind’s eye.

The silence continue as you clean up the cups and uneaten rice cakes. The silent clink of the utensils echoing in your quaint home.

As you wash the dishes, you feel like an outsider watching your body go through the motions. Scrubbing the plate clockwise, once, twice, three times, before running it under the faucet. Next, you pick up the cups, here, clockwise, once, twice —

“It is my duty,” you hear Namjoon, and oh, he’s beside you, hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from the frigid waters, “you know that, right?”

As one of the strongest and wisest alphas this pack has ever seen in generations, your betrothal to Namjoon was tolerated at best. Alpha bondings are common nowadays, with the scarcity of omegas. So yes, your betrothal was tolerated - just tolerated, even with you being as strong and as wise as your betrothed - but now?

With that young omega in the picture?

They are making you feel as if you’ve committed a grave sin against the community, as if it’s not within your rights to rage against the unfairness of it all.

They’re asking you for your love.

And he’s so willing to be taken away. Your heart breaks but you nod quietly, “I know. I understand.”

Namjoon stupidly thought that was the end of it. That you knew he’ll always come back to you, omega or not.

Maybe he was naive, or he truly was selfish to ask it of you but when he gets home the week after the trials to a dark cold house the surprise knocks him to his knees and drops his heart to his stomach.

You left the kitchen untouched, his mug still next to yours but, Namjoon pauses at the threshold of your room. There, glinting under the moonlight, sits your ring and the last of your scent wafts away.

END NOTES: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know if this should have a second (or even third) part! :)

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