#or at least i would if i hadn't somehow managed to get Very Sick as soon as i moved to town | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deakyjoe · 30 days

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I Got Chills, They’re Multiplying

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: sick fic, fluff

Summary: Despite being stubbornly independent, Bob won’t let you push him away in your time of need.

Warnings: sickness, sexual references and innuendos, implication of Bob having a “lieutenant” kink, just fluff mostly, reader is used to pushing people away, they’re like hella in love but won’t say it

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Wrote this exhausted because I haven’t been able to sleep these past few days due to being sick. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You stared at the last text message Bob had sent you.

Okay, get well soon!

It was unclear whether the constant pounding in your head was what was making you feel sick or if it was how quickly the text conversation had ended with your boyfriend. Well, kind-of boyfriend. You'd been on a lot of dates over the last few months but hadn't actually made it official yet.

It's not like you expected anything from him, you were used to men being pretty dismissive, and his message was actually very friendly, especially with the exclamation point at the end, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of something at him just ending the conversation like that.

To be fair to him, you had told him that you were fine, just had a cold or a minor case of the flu. It was a little worse than that but you weren't used to telling people your problems, used to keeping them bottled up inside. So you guess you couldn't really blame him for taking your word for granted and assuming that, as you'd said, you were fine. And maybe he was busy.

You sighed and tossed your phone aside, burying your face in one of the many blankets you'd dragged to your couch in an attempt to feel slightly warmer. You were being ridiculous, this is exactly what you wanted. And what you expected. At least you had peace and quiet for the day whilst you recovered.

Drifting off into a dreamless sleep came naturally with the state your body was in and you were thankful for it, hoping that the headache that had been plaguing you since you first woke up that morning would be gone by the time you woke up again.

It wasn't.

In fact, it only got worse when the rhythmic throbbing in your skull matched the timing of the person knocking on your front door. You groaned quietly to yourself and dragged yourself up off the couch, wrapping a blanket tight around your shoulders and padding to the door with only one sock on. You figured the other one must have fallen off during your nap.

You didn't even bother looking through the peephole to see who was bothering you, hoping to just snap at them to go away once you'd managed to unlock the door.

That plan was foiled when you were greeted by your favourite pair of baby blue eyes behind wire framed glasses. You immediately softened at the sight of your kind-of boyfriend.

"Oh, hi." You croaked, immediately feeling sheepish that you were about to shout at him without even thinking about the consequences.

Bob frowned at you, giving you a quick once over. "You're sick."

"Yes, I told you that." You chuckled, coughing into your elbow as soon as the words had left your mouth.

"Sicker than you let on." He clarified.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say. He was right. But that's just who you were. Keep everything to yourself, was your motto.

So you just asked him a question instead. "Why are you here? I said I was fine."

Bob smiled at that. "I think your exact words were 'yeah, I'm good' which I knew was a lie."

"Oh." That surprised you.

He went further. "You only say you're good when something's wrong."

God, were you that easy to read?

"So, I thought I'd come check on you." He stiffened suddenly. "I hope that's okay."

You didn't think it possible but somehow you softened more under his worried gaze. "Yes, that's very okay. Do you want to come in?"

You opened the door wider for him, stepping aside and grinning when he hurried in and kicked off his shoes. It was then that you noticed what he was wearing. Blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked good. Very good. If you didn't feel like you were dying then you'd definitely be jumping his bones right about now. You still kind of wanted to. You pushed the thought aside.

"Didn't realise how hot it is outside. I'm freezing." You mumbled, shuffling back towards your couch. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks. But if I did then I'd make it myself. I'm here to look after you." He placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you in the direction of the blanket pile you'd previously made, smirking at the sight of it.

You shifted away from him. "You don't have to touch me. I'm sick and disgusting right now."

He huffed. "You're beautiful and lovely like always."

"Liar." You grumbled, pushing back into his hand nevertheless.

"No, just smitten and honest." He confessed, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you in the millions of blankets. "Have you eaten today?"

You shook your head no. You didn't feel up to cooking.

"Want me to make you something?" He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"No." You sighed. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I'm making you something."

You huffed. "You really don't have to-"

"I want to." He cut you off. “I don’t want you to think you can’t ask me for things. You know I care about you, right?”

You nodded slowly. “I know, I’m just used to doing stuff for myself.”

Bob smiled gently. “I know that. But now you don’t have to. I’m here for you. To help. Or whatever you need.”

You were about to respond with a fond thank you when you were interrupted by his cellphone chiming in his pocket.

“Sorry.” He grunted, pulling the device from the front of his jeans.

“It’s okay.” You coughed, curious as to why he was suddenly frowning. “Who is it?”

"Had plans with the team tonight. Was supposed to meet them for drinks." He mumbled, typing away on his phone.

"Oh, god." You rubbed your hand across your face. "Please go. You don't have to stay here. Don't let them down."

Bob suddenly looked up from his screen and gave you an amused smile. "I'm sure they'll understand that I'm looking after my sick girlfriend."

He said it so casually, as if he’d been doing it regularly. Your heart rate picked up at that. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Bob Floyd's girlfriend. You could've squealed with glee. You stayed silent and settled for a pleased grin.

He sighed to himself once he’d replied to his team and placed his cell down on your coffee table. “Where were we? Oh! Right. Me cooking for you.”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do that.” You pulled your feet up onto the couch after a particularly violent shiver ran through you. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bob reached out and pressed the back of his hand onto your forehead. “You have a fever. And you’re still shaking like we’re in Antarctica.”

“It’s just my immune system fighting back.” You hummed, leaning into his touch as he moved his hand down to cup your cheek.

“Exactly. And I’m sure some warm soup will just help your immune system out.” He crouched down in front of you, taking the other side of your face in his other hand. “Please let me take care of you.”

The words were so softly spoken, so tender, that you almost started crying. No one had ever sounded so sincere before, especially when it came to your well-being. If you weren’t so scared of infecting him, you would’ve leaned forward to kiss him.

So you could only reply quietly, with the smallest of nods. “Okay.”

His face burst into a dazzling smile, the kind that made you never want to stop looking at him. “Okay. You rest some more and I’ll go make that for you.”

You smiled weakly back at him, suddenly remembering something. “I don’t think I have any soup.”

Bob didn’t falter. “That’s alright. I’ll figure something out.”

You thought that maybe you were a little bit in love with him.

“Help yourself to anything.” It didn’t need to be said, he knew your kitchen pretty well at this point and you always made it clear that he was free to eat or use anything in it when he was over at your place.

He nodded, pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood up. “Try to sleep a little. This might take a while.”

You snorted, regretting it immediately as it made your throat feel all scratchy. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Bob paused for a second, halfway to taking a step towards the kitchen, and looked back at you. “Lieutenant?”

You nodded, mouth twitching at the corners.

He seemed to think on it for a second. “Hm, we’ll come back to that.”

You giggled quietly into your blanket and settled back onto the couch, closing your eyes and thinking of Bob Floyd. Your boyfriend. Your extremely caring boyfriend. Who was in your kitchen making you soup! When did you suddenly get so lucky? The musings drifted away with you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Some time passed before you were awoken again by Bob stroking the side of your face and softly uttering your name.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, slightly confused as your head cleared. “What’s going on?”

“Soup.” He replied simply, picking up your legs and sitting down before placing them across his lap. He leaned forward to grab the bowl and spoon on your coffee table and then turned to face you.

“You gonna feed me?” You teased.

Bob smiled. “I would if you wanted me to but I’m sure you’d rather I throw this soup in your face than do that.”

He was right.

“Hm, when did you get to know me so well?” You asked, half joking as you took the bowl and spoon from him. The soup was a rich green colour. What he’d found to put in it, you had no idea. “Always thought I was closed off.”

“You are.” He shrugged. “But I pay attention.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his again. He was just looking at you with a slight smile, hands smoothing up and down the lengths of your clothed legs.

You were definitely a little bit in love with him.

You defaulted to a joke. "Remind me when I'm feeling better that you're gonna get it sooo good."

Bob snorted. "I think the fever is making you delirious."

"I'm just frustrated because you, somehow, look hotter than usual and I'm too sick to do anything about it." You gestured vaguely to his outfit, using the spoon to point.

“I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Hot.” You insisted.

"Okay, I'll remind you." He rolled his eyes. “Now eat your soup.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” You mumbled, dipping the spoon into the thick liquid.

He huffed out a laugh.

You weren’t surprised in the least that the soup was delicious. You were starting to believe that Bob might actually be the perfect man, some sort of miracle sent to Earth to apologise for all the wrongdoing in the world. How he’d managed to concoct a good soup out of the limited ingredients in your kitchen was beyond you. And yet, he’d done it.

“What the hell did you put in this?” You asked, frowning at him mock suspiciously. If you didn’t know him better you’d think he’d ordered it to your place while you were asleep. But Bob Floyd wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Some stuff I found laying around.” He shrugged modestly. “Didn’t follow a recipe or anything.”

You scoffed. “You’re something else.”

He just shrugged again, a pleased smile playing on the corners of his lips, and watched you practically inhale the rest of the dish. He was very glad you’d eaten it.

“How you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted. “But I don’t know if it’s because of the soup or because you’re here.”

Bob’s heart thudded against his rib cage at that confession. “Just happy to help.”

You hummed and stared at him fondly.

He had trouble getting his next question out, distracted by the way you were looking at him. “Do- do you- do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitated before answering him, mulling an idea over in your mind. “There is something I want.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” He was willing to do anything for you.

“Don’t want you to get sick.” You sighed.

He smiled. “I think we left that concern behind when I first got here.”

Your eyes widened. “No! Don’t make me feel guilty.”

“I’m not trying to.” Bob assured you. “But I doubt whatever you want is going to have a higher risk of getting me sick than me just sitting here next to you.”

You grumbled something underneath your breath to yourself.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind getting sick off of you.”

Maybe you were a lot in love with him.

So you let it burst out of you. “Wanna cuddle.”

Bob didn’t even respond to you, just scooped you up into his arms and maneuvered the two of you into the position he knew you liked - him on his back with you half on top of him and half next to him, one leg and one arm slung around him, your face buried his chest and head tucked under his chin, one of his hands moving to stroke up and down your arm, trace patterns across your back and comb through your hair.

He knew you so well.

You nuzzled your face against his t-shirt. “Thank you.”

He inhaled deeply. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I want to. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Making you soup is nothing. It’s not like I’m giving you a kidney.” He paused. “Although I’d probably do that too.”

You chuckled against his chest. “What I mean is, most guys would’ve accepted my ‘I’m good’ text and carried on with their day. You didn’t.”

“Because I knew you were lying.” He reminded you.

“That’s my point. No one has ever known I was lying before.” You tilted your head up to look at him. “I’m glad you knew.”

“Me too.”

Bob wanted to kiss you but knew you’d kill him if he tried. So he settled for the smile he gave you that always made you look away nervously. Which you did, as predicted, and then swiftly fell asleep against him. He wondered how’d he’d gotten so lucky. Sure, he was caring for a sick person but it was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Which should sound ridiculous but to him it made more sense than anything.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when you whined lowly in your sleep and held onto him tighter. He smiled down at you and held you closer to his chest.

Bob knew then that he was a lot in love with you.

A/N: And we’re back!

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d10nyx · 2 months

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don't hold your breath(nobody's home)

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk

a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3

word count: 1.9k words

Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.

He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.

Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.

He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.

Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.

He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.

He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.

Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.

Fuck this.

He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.

He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.

“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”

Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.

Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.

You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”

He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.

“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”

There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?

He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.

“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.

You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.

“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.

“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”

Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.

“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.

“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”

“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”

That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.

“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”

Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.

He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.

“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.

When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #tw dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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spectres-n-soap · 3 months

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The Clouds remind Me of You - Soap x reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Pregnancy, afab body, grief, MW3 is canon, arguing, minor physical altercation?, so much angst guys.

Masterlist

Ghost knows he shouldn't be pushing you, pushing this boundary but as the days pass you seem to be getting bigger. At least, that's what you complain about each and every time you have to go up the stairs to your flat. It was raining again in the evening but the day with partial sunlight seemed to lift your spirits at least, or rather, you weren't lying on the couch and basically snarling at him whenever he tried to approach. You reminded Ghost of a pregnant homeless dog, snarling at anyone who tries to touch you for good or for worse. "C'mon." He pleads, "You have to eat something."

"No I don't Ghost."

"It's Simon." He reminds you. Ghost had insisted you call him Simon because the two of you weren't on base. You hadn't accepted that idea and still called him Ghost. Whether it was out of habit or just to piss him off, he didn't know and both were very possible. Although at this point, he was leaning towards 'just to piss him off' territory. "Just eat a little bit?" He holds the warm chicken noodle soup towards you.

"Fuck off, I don't need babied." You grumble and manage to somehow move even further from him despite your prone position on the couch. "I'll eat when I feel like it." You state, trying to leave zero room for argument from his side. You hadn't been feeling well all day and the moment it had started raining, you just collapsed onto the couch. The entire day felt like the worst one since Soap had passed. Morning sickness all day along with sporadic Braxton Hicks left you with zero appetite. At this point, you could not tell if you felt sick because of this damn pregnancy or if you hadn't eaten. It didn't really matter because every time you looked at the soup, you felt like throwing up. Or maybe it was because it was Ghost who held it out to you.

"I'm not babying you." Ghost argues, "I'm just taking care of you."

"Oh would you fuck off with that sentence!" You snap, suddenly finding the energy to sit up and glare at Ghost. "I get it alright? You loved Soap-"

"Johnny."

"You loved Johnny." You take a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay, "So did I! I can't fucking stand you being here." You yell and smack the bowl from his hands and onto the wooden floor. "Bloody Christ! Can you not get that through your stupid fucking mask?" You stand up, a bit wobbly on your feet but you back up when Ghost tries to come to your aid. "He's supposed to be here!"

"Don't."

"Don't what Ghost? Don't speak the fucking truth of it all?" You ask as you storm up to him and wipe away the few tears running down your cheeks. "Are you scared of the truth?"

"Don't say it." Ghost snaps as he looks down at you. His breathing is becoming uneven as rage flares up in his brown eyes. What you wouldn't do for it be Johnny's blue eyes looking at you.

"If you had been there," You push an accusatory finger into his chest, "he would still be here. Johnny would be here instead of you."

He grabs your wrist and yanks it away from his chest. "You don't get to say that. You weren't there either! You were back at base from a broken arm!" You stumble backwards as he pushes forward, fury in his eyes as he speaks and his grip on your wrist grows tighter. "I had to watch him die! A bullet right through the fucking skull."

"Shut up!" You screech and try to pull your wrist from his grip but he yanks you forward.

"Now I'm trying to do the right fucking thing! I'm trying to help out the woman he got pregnant because he would fucking put a bullet in me if he was still alive and I didn't." Ghost pushes you back onto the couch. "I'm not going away. Get that through your thick fucking skull."

"I want you to go away! Just leave me alone, I didn't need your help during the first 29 weeks of this pregnancy and I don't need it now." Ghost storms over to the pot of still warm soup and pours another bowl of it. "Fine, you don't need me. But I don't care. You're gonna eat this fucking soup and then I'll leave." He pushes the bowl of soup into your hands. "Fucking eat."

You looked at the two bags of ash in your hands as the tears run down your face. A fat sob left you leaning against your steering wheel as you sobbed. You were meant to deliver one of the bags of ash to his family after Ghost had poured out the 141's portion over the highlands. It was a nice day too. Far too nice for a moment like this, for you to cry so hard you felt sick. You had just gotten your arm out of the cast, excited to see Soap return with the rest of the 141 from the mission to stop Makarov. It had been a wild goose chase, the first mission had left you falling out of a four story window to escape some gas.

It had been raining when they got off the jet, the rain obscured everything but you knew something was wrong when you only saw three figures. Price had approached you first with Gaz and Ghost behind him. You scrunched your brows together, confusion must've been all over your face because Price spoke first before you could even get the question out. "Soap is MIA."

The sound of the rain cut out, the words that came from Price had no sound as your eyes focused on the jet behind them as a stretcher with a bag over it was pulled out. You didn't even notice that your fingers had started to dig into the skin of your throat as the ability to breathe was stolen from you. Gaz pulled your hands away from your throat and everything crashed down. The rain deafened you as the first few tears ran down your face. "Captain." You choked out as you looked into his blue eyes. Fuck, had they always looked so much like Soaps? "Captain please."

Gaz had to hold you up as your knees gave out. You covered your mouth with your hand and just cried because the scream caught in your throat. The next week went by in a blur and now you were here. Parked a block away from Soap's parents house. It was a nice neighborhood, you could hear kids playing in the distance while you broke down and cried again. You had barely held yourself together at the ash spreading and it was all just coming apart now. You looked at the baggie filled with ash that was meant for you. This is all you had left of Soap, not even his dog tags. Price had given the MacTavish's his dog tags the day after they arrived back on base.

Slowly, you lifted your head up and wiped away the tears. You straightened your uniform and got out of your car. The walk wasn't long but the bag filled with his ash felt like it weighed a million pounds. You stood at the front door of the MacTavish's for a long moment before you finally rang the doorbell. A woman with graying brown hair opened the door, her eyes red like you were sure yours were. She didn't look old but you supposed that was because Soap had joined the military early. Where would he be now if he had been caught?

"Mrs. MacTavish, I'm from the 141 and I'm here to give you this." You muttered and handed his mother the bag.

"Oh." She put a hand to her mouth as she began to cry again. "Hello John." She whispered and held the bag gently, "My baby boy."

You lay in your bed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you get up. It was dark outside and the clock on the oven read 1:28 am. You navigate your flat with ease until you open a closet and pull a box from a shelf. Opening it, the bag of his ashes sit along with a few keepsakes that remind you of him. Remind you of times where you two laugh in pubs and drink your favorite beverages. That reminds you of his touch and shoulder touches, the sneaky kisses the two of had shared after that night. You look at your home phone and reach out to it. Slowly, you input the number Ghost gave you and you look at the numbers on screen. You press the call button.

It rings once, twice, thrice and just when you are about to hang up, he picks up. Ghost's voice comes through the phone, "What is it?"

"Can you come over?" You ask as you wipe your eyes and sniffle.

"I'm coming." He mutters before hanging up.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap #call of duty #cod #john soap mctavish x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw3 #mw3 spoilers

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 2 months

Text

Aren't humans fragile?

Humans were very fragile. Well... at least when you compare them to demons. They didn't have the same strength or speed. No wings to fly.

So, for March Marbas, it made sense to give the human a wide berth. After all, the professor specialized in tormenting other demons. Imagine harming a human without trying.

No, thank you. He didn't want to be a part of that mess. Besides, from what he's seen, the human is naturally clumsy.

He almost had a heart attack when he saw them slip in the hall. He's already locked up all the sharp, pointy objects in his possession. The last thing he needed was for them to get cut.

He made sure to clearly mark and label his poison collection too before locking that up. He always put closed and put all torture devices far out of reach. Honestly, it felt like baby proofing his classroom.

And despite all his precautions, the human still seemed to find trouble. He stares down at the creature as they detach from the pile of ropes they had managed to entangle themselves in.

He didn't know if he should laugh at the sight or leave them before something worse might happen. They seemed to answer the unasked question for him by laughing. They were like a mystery.

How can they just laugh at all their misfortune? Like nothing had happened. He didn't really understand as he helped unravel the ropes.

"Sorry, sorry." They said in-between snickers. "I guess you could say I have a 'twisted' since of humor." Did they just? No... it had to be a mistake.

"You seem to be in a 'bind'." He said cautiously and waited with baited breath. This seemed to please the human. They sat up getting more tangled.

"'Knot really' I've been looking for you, so I'd say this helps 'tie up loose ends.'" They burst into a fit of giggles. March can't help the grin on his face.

"Well, aren't you a 'knotty' little thing?" He finally removes the ropes from their limbs. "You could say that..."

"So you were looking for me?" "Oh! Right!" He watches as they pull out several papers from their bag. "I wanted your assistance."

What could the little human need his help for? He wasn't very knowledgeable about human culture like Balam-San was or overly friendly like Robin.

"I want to do a compare and contrast on torture." He almost fell over. They had said it so casually he almost couldn't believe it.

"I'm sorry, what?" Weren't humans peaceful creatures? What did they know of torture? He blinks at the mountains of paperwork he's handed.

"I'm trying to find points of influence in human and demon society. I'm referencing several topics such as technology, culture, and weapons. I thought I would also compare torture techniques."

So, somehow, March ends up talking about his profession. He had thought they would get squeamish or get sick like some of his students. He hadn't expected an advid listener.

He learned many new things as well. It made his heart race. Not many liked to discuss such topics with him, so it was a conversation he enjoyed.

One where he didn't have to tone things down or worry that he might scare them. They had even made a timeline of sorts to see which species influenced who on certain methods. Amazing.

March was keeping this human. It didn't matter that they were clumsy. Or that humans were fragile compared to demons bodies.

Their brains it seemed could still keep up. If not, surpass a demons intelligence. He couldn't wait to use some of those new methods in practice.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #march marbas

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yourstory-teller · 1 year

Note

when Messi was younger he would get sick and puke after or during a match?? so can you please do one where like right after the match the reader is with him and notices somethings off so she takes him into a private dressing room and like helps him while he gets sick

Heyy, thank you for requesting! I took the liberty to make it about the barça vs albacete match where he scored his first goal, bc I thought it'd make it even more sweet 🥺

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up. Just slightly though, not at all graphic. This one's really pure fluff ♡

Gif is mine <proud>

First out of many

It would be a ridiculous understatement to say that you were climbing up the walls. To be honest, you'd describe yourself as being in a state of pure bliss.

You were a huge football fan, always had been, so of course it was meant to be a big event for you. Being able to watch a match of your favorite team, from up close, to feel the stands vibrate after each pass, crowd going crazy with each goal.

But, there was something else. Something that made everything even more exciting, more incredible.

Your boyfriend would be playing. He would be down there, running and sweating, giving everything he had to defend his team's badge, and you would be there to support him in the best ways you could.

The whole moment right before the match was extremely hectic and distressing for you, but it was certainly a thousand times worse for Lionel. Poor guy, looked like a kettle about to explode. You were able to share only a brief moment before the game started, in which he asked for a good luck kiss, that you promptly granted him. After that, you both parted ways, and you went to, excitedly, take your seat on the bleachers.

The first half passed, a goal was scored and everything was going well, but your boyfriend still hadn't come off the bench.

In the exact same way, second half came, and nothing. The match was almost over, there were less than 5 minutes left and you were about to pass out.

And then there he was, walking onto the field.

The game was about to end and you could barely hide your anxiety, frantically moving your hands, sometimes reaching up to touch your already messy hair or snapping your fingers in an almost painful way. Three minutes.

You had your eyes on him the entire time, unblinking. He was fast and agile, slippery as he passed the ball through all of those big men who kept unsuccessfully trying to take him down. He was unstoppable.

You were standing in one of the lower rows, considerably closer to the lawn. From there, you could clearly see Ronaldinho dribbling the defender and making a beautiful pass, which Leo mastered perfectly. He ran, the ball at his feet, passing one and another player and then shot at the goal, over the goalkeeper's head. Jesus, what a goal!

The referee whistled. Offside.

Sighs and screams of indignation at the questionable decision were shared by the entire crowd, and you were now nervously biting on your nails. Everyone tensed up once more as they waited for the players to get back into position. It was the final minute.

One more whistle. The game was back in action, everyone moving at full speed, and you almost -almost- lost sight of him.

There were a few seconds left in the match and you swear you could feel how determined he was.

Once again, he had the ball. It was taken from him, but quickly recovered. A touch for Ronaldinho who, somehow, managed to replicate the exact same pass from the previous move. Lionel lets the ball bounce once and, before a defender throws himself desperately and the goalkeeper tries to leave the goal, it happens, this time leaving no space for complaints.

That was it, game over. 2x0 for Barcelona.

He runs off with his hands in the air, cheering, and the Camp Nou goes wild. The noise was almost deafening and you would not be able to hear properly for at least a couple of days, but you couldn't care less. It was a fantastic goal, the very first of his professional career, and you were there to see it.

You practically jumped from your place in the bleachers directly onto the pitch, rushingly making your way over to your boyfriend who was already waiting for you with his arms wide open. You both broke out into giggles as he grabbed you tightly and spun you around.

"Fueste increíble, mi jugador!" You half-shouted, trying to make yourself heard over the incessant screams that came from both the crowd and the team that surrounded you. "Gracias, hermosa" he answered with a smile. However, despite his apparent efforts, you could see that something wasn't quite right. He looked odd, his usually rosy cheeks now pale, even though he'd spent the last few minutes running non-stop.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?" You asked, brow furrowed in a newfound concern. He looked back at you and cracked another smile, a considerably less joyful one this time. "Not so much. My stomach feels a little weird." You noticed, then, that one of the hands that previously rested on your waist, was now holding his belly.

Before he could think of uttering another word, you were already grabbing his hand and making your walk to the changing rooms at the back of the field, occasionally smiling and waving to some of the other players you met on the way.

Once you got there, it seemed like a switch had been turned on for Lionel, as the boy usad every bit of energy he still got to run at top speed towards one of the private cabins. You followed, a little slower, and knelt beside him, carefully holding his hair and rubbing his back in what you hoped would be a soothing way.

You stood like that for a few minutes into the distressing situation, to say the least, until Leo finally seemed to be starting to get better. He wiped the corners of his mouth with a piece of paper you handed him and then sat down with his legs sat straight, leaning back against the toilet. "I'm so sorry" He mumbled, throat sharply sore.

"No, no, there's no need to be sorry, cariño." You repositioned yourself so you'd be facing him and carefully reached out to cup his face, gently brushing a few strands of wet hair away from his forehead. "It's okay, huh? Are you feeling better?" He nodded weakly, leaning into your touch.

Moments later and the two of you remained there, sitting on the floor of a toilet stall, his head now resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his long tangled locks.

You felt him move slightly, just enough so he could look up at you. "You saw what I did there, princesa?" You stared into his big brown eyes and they were shining in a way that was so mesmerizing, it took you some time to finally answer.

"Such a beautiful, beautiful first goal." You said, pressing a kiss to his temple. "There's still many more to come." And you prayed, to whatever God could hear you, that you'd be there for him after each and every one of them.

Hope you like it! Send me requests at anytime!

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sophieswundergarten · 8 months

Text

Weird Snippety Thing I don't know how to finish or what to do with

As they stumbled past the sign, Jillson struggling to support the much taller, lankier form of Jackson, he looked up for a moment.

"Are we seriously back in Stonetown?" He muttered, dropping his head after his fever-glazed eyes skimmed over the words.

"Yes," Jillson sighed, taking a moment to catch her breath, "We are."

It had only been luck that allowed the pair to get out of Italy before the government agents who were now swarming the compound had noticed them. And though Jillson had rifled through Dr. Curtain's desk drawers and taken any money she could find, they were hard-pressed to make it last long enough for them to escape Europe entirely.

After that, it had been one long stretch of wandering from place to place, hitchhiking for a couple hours on a good day, and sleeping under whatever cover they could find. Jillson wasn't even sure where they were going, and anytime she and Jackson discussed it, they both came up with the somewhat vague answer of "somewhere safe".

That was, until the torrential rainstorm they had been caught in the week before. Jillson was never sure why, but Jackson had the worst immune system of anyone she had ever met. And also a severe lack of self preservation skills. Thus, when he had woken her up in the middle of the night with his uncontrollable shivering, assuring her that everything was completely fine and he felt perfectly alright, she had decided it was better to head for a place that they at least somewhat knew how to navigate.

The map she had stolen from a newspaper stand told her that they were very near Stonetown anyway, but she had kept their new destination quiet because she knew that as soon as Jackson figured it out he'd dig his heels in and refuse.

"Why are we here, Jilly?" He moaned quietly. "We're just going to get arrested. I thought we were trying to get somewhere safe."

Jillson huffed, slinging his arm over her shoulders and continuing towards the centre of town. "Because, we aren't going to make any progress living in the woods for the next two weeks, especially with you being sick. It's your own fault, anyway. If you hadn't managed to get yourself absolutely drenched then I wouldn't be having to make these decisions on my own." She spoke tersely, trying to shove down the worry that came with the reappearance of her childhood nickname.

She counted up the money they had leftover in her head as they walked, even though she knew it would come out to the exact same amount as it had every time previously: not enough.

There was no way, even if they somehow managed to to avoid being recognized and taken into custody, that she would be able to pay a doctor's fees.

At least, now that they were actually in a town instead of skirting the edge of it, she might be able to find something generically useful at a drugstore. She only hoped it would be okay.

They hadn't had health classes at the Institute, and while some things like scraped knees and black eyes you just learn to deal with as you grow up, she had no clue how to take care of someone who was actually ill. She didn't even know how serious this was. But she pushed that thought away. It wouldn't do any good to worry about that right now.

Right now, she needed to keep going. It was already late, and though she wasn't sure of the exact time, she knew it was dark enough out that shops would be closing soon.

She stumbled slightly, wavering as she forced herself to stand up straight. She could do this. She had to do this. All their life they had only had each other, but they had also had the resources Dr. Curtain left available to them. Now, they were well and truly alone, and she needed to be strong enough for both of them.

However, she only made it a few more steps before her feet betrayed her once again, and she sank to her knees, one arm still wrapped around Jackson.

He was dead weight in her arms, breathing shallowly, but she couldn't bring herself to stand again just yet. She braced her one free hand against the cold ground, sucking in desperate lungfuls of chilly evening air. She had to keep going. She just needed the world to stop spinning beneath her first.

A sudden light was thrown on the pair, as the front door of the house they had stopped in front of opened, flooding the street with a warm, yellow glow.

"Oh dear." A voice murmured, and Jillson glanced up to find a familiarly disheveled man looking down at them, wringing his hands.

"You really do look so much like him," She gasped, thoughts clouding, before the whole world rang out into silence.

#Sometimes I just have these thoughts #And they don't leave!!#I don't know if I'll ever finish this though #This bit was EXTREMELY clear and potent in my head #No idea what comes after it though #the mysterious benedict society #mbs #jackson and jillson #jackson mbs #jillson mbs

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na-baekjin-love · 2 months

Note

BJ with his silly crush over a woman who is older than him (since he is 17 than let's make Y/N around 23-25)

(might be his therapist)

I think Baekjin would love a woman who understand him and Y/N is definitely is the one of closest person to him. The one who always ask his well-being and give him support both mentally and physically (don't think weird. Just a pats on the shoulder or hug)

(because she is a therapist duh)

Regardless, Y/N just see him as a little brother :)

You mentioned a therapist multiple times. You're getting a therapist. :)

"Alright, then I think we can end this session here. Why don't you think it over a bit further until the next one?"

Initially, Na Baekjin hadn't wanted to go to therapy. Needing to take medication was bad enough-and he still wasn't sure why he had let Kwon Seokhyeon talk him into getting it prescribed.

The medication had helped a little. A slight, small change during the hader days that made it just a bit better, a bit to get up and do stuff. To leave the bed and leave the apartment and get stuff done.

But while there were harder days, there were also *bad* days, when memories pushed down onto him and everything seemed to overlay with the morgue and the cold light with his mother covered up by a sheet.

The medication had made it easier, a bit better over time but then that effect had platoed but... he had dared to dream. To hope just a little that he would be able to be less... haunted.

You had asked him during the first session if there was something specific he wanted to get out of this and he had somehow managed to choke out at least part of the truth. That there were days where it was just *hard* and the medication just wasn't enough.

You knew that it wasn't very professional to give hugs to clients, but once he started to reveal layer by layer, what had already happened to him in his rather short life, a bit of platonic affextion to offset the otherwise rather bleak social life was just another step to helping him.

People could get literally sick from lack of contact after all.

And Na Baekjin thrived and was a lot calmer about opening up little by little in response to that behaviour

There weren't many hugs, but sometimes, when a heavy topic was breached, it did wonders to ground him.

You knew it wasn't really healthy as a therapist to be such a big stabilising part in his life, but he was fifteen and a leader in his age group and sometimes your commitment to professional distance just crumbled.

You refused to regret it, though, as with each greeting and genuine interest his responses his behaviour was just a bit calmer.

He was fifteen, a child, and sometimes your own motherhenning tendencies just reared their heads.

He would get better and You would keep giving him the necessary support until then.

#weak hero #na baekjin #donald na #ask

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miniimapp · 10 months

Text

Jesse - You Boys Are the (Homosexual) Supporting Cast

Gen;; Fluff - Headcanons

Warnings ;; no ?? i mean,, stress and anger (from reader pov) but not really ??

Proofread + Edited ;; a little bit actually,, mainly when going through and adding the bold and the blue and the italics lmao

Auth. Note ;; bet y'all thought i died.. nah i ain't never leaving i'm just clumsy af and smashed my phone into smithereens,, prolly got y'all tho lmaoooo

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Jesse is an insufferable flirt

Which would be fine if you didn't have shit to do

But you do !!

Accepting the roles of stage manager as well as assistant director was the worst choice you could have ever made

So help the world if you ever get your hands on a time machine

The school production may fall apart but at least your mental health would still be somewhat intact

But for now you're stuck with mountains of responsibilities and a sweet fucking annoying distraction

Speaking of said distraction

Jesse plays the lead's best friend and also an asshole who won't let you get on with your work

So he has his fair share of time on stage

But even then, you can barely catch a break

As soon as he steps foot into the wings he somehow immediately finds you

It honestly baffles you how differently Jesse acts in and out of class

Okay but on a real note you can't be at all angry at Jesse

Not when he's being so sweet and charming

Even though he keeps getting in your way

At one point, when the director was sick so you had to take that over whilst being stage manager and assistant director as well you had snapped at Jesse

He hadn't even been flirting with you at that point

Mans was literally just in the vicinity

Apparently that was enough of a crime to warrant your wrath

You absolutely still cringe thinking about that day

You hadn't shouted or anything

No, no you'd angrily whispered

And because you were stressed and upset your voice jumped like 5 octaves

Okay maybe not but it felt that way

You were giving mickey mouse realness

Which we love :D

It just wasn't the time

It's never the time for mickey mouse realness in today's society smh

You were on the verge of tears and mass murder which is always a good combination

(why are you always breaking down around this man fr)

Jesse had stared at you wide-eyed as you shat out a monologue of stress and misplaced anger

And once you were finished, chest heaving and feeling lighter than you had in a while, Jesse sends you an encouraging smile

"Sorry, sweetheart, I never meant to offend ya. Honestly, I was kinda hoping I was breaking up your stress, that's where I was coming from anyway. Still, I only caused you grief, not very fair of me, I'll admit."

You sniffed, awkwardly laughing things off and rubbing at your face

"Sorry for snapping at you. God, why is it whenever we talk I'm always freaking out."

Jesse laughs, a cheeky grin lighting up his face

"It's so I can rescue you from the depths of your despair, like your very own knight in shining armour."

Your roll your eyes good-naturedly, your own smile making it's way onto your face

"Oh, my hero!"

You pretend to swoon and Jesse's smile widens

You give yourself a second to take a breath, realising that, as bad as it seems afterwards, you really needed this

"Thank for, um, listening I guess. I didn't realise how much I needed to get off my chest until I was throwing it at you so I'm sorry but thank you."

Jesse gives a small nod and smile

"Anytime...well, maybe not any but you get what I mean."

After getting over that bump in the road the two of you get on like a house on fire

And you quickly come to appreciate the break in routine that Jesse gives you

You never quite realise how much the stress is getting to you until Jesse drags you away from your scripts and into something else

Something fun

As you two become closer you notice that he's started becoming more.. touchy

Like brushing stray hairs out of you face

Or tapping the tip of your nose

Or giving you a side hug before going on stage

Or leaning up against you to read over your notes

Things like that

And at first you thought they were innocent, unconscious actions

Until of course he started winking at you as he walked on stage

Or smirking at you after smoothing down a stray hair

Or making stupid comments as he moves away

Jesse is absolutely fucking with you

This absolute bitch

You're about to pull up fr

And his flirting continues throughout the whole rehearsal period

And you love it

It gives you happy butterflies in your chest and stomach

It's bearable you suppose...

But his secret winks and smiles directed only at you do get you thinking a little bit

You've never really watched the rehearsals properly

Probably not a good thing to be realising now, seeing as you have such important roles

Oh well, you haven't ruined the show yet

Everything will probably be just fine

Obviously you'd directed and checked for cues when leading everyone backstage but you'd never just watched it

So as the rehearsals left before opening night dwindle to only a few you decide you'll just watch for once

And somehow you've never noticed that Jesse's character has a love interest

Not a problem

You have zero problems

Next question

Okay shut up

It does slightly grind on your nerves watching their confession scene

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It's fine.

No worries.

You can handle this.

But it certainly doesn't help that Jesse keeps making eye contact with you when saying his lines

Like,, bro

The director in you wants to scream

He's meant to be confessing to his love interest, not you !!

Make eye contact with the love interest !!

But the rest of you ??

Simply ascending every time Jesse confesses while gazing into your eyes

The dreamy asshole

Not so subtly glad he's looking at you and not at them

It's getting kinda hard to distinguish between reality and fiction

And the heat in your cheeks won't disappear regardless so that's great

Your only saving grace is that Jesse doesn't keep his eyes on you throughout the whole scene

But every time without fail, just before the scene ends, Jesse searches for your gaze and holds it, uttering his character's final line

"My love, for you I would do anything."

#IM NOT DEAD YET MFS #4town jesse #4town #4town headcanons #4*town #4town x reader #x reader #turning red

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practically-an-x-man · 6 months

Text

Sick Day

For @can-of-pringles, I'm so sorry you haven't been feeling well but hopefully this will make it a little better?

Pairing: Arith x Iriel (not my OCs)

Word count: 1,138

____

Arith trudged into the kitchen, his eyes half-lidded and steps dragging as he made his way up to the counter. Fixing his coffee was easy enough, though his fingers felt heavy and uncooperative.

"Are you feeling alright?" Iriel asked, already seated at the table. Arith ran a hand over his face, trying to coax his brain to spit out a thought or two.

"Hm. No. Think I'm coming down with something." he mumbled, taking a long drag of his coffee. Iriel made the best coffee, but today it hardly tasted like anything. At least the steam helped clear out the congestion settling into his sinuses - for the moment.

"You can't get sick, you're a demon." Iriel pointed out.

"Would you tell that to my corporeal form, then?" he huffed, "I'm sick, angel. You think I'm making it up?"

"Well... no," she agreed, "But I think it could be psychosomatic."

"Please. Infernal brains are too powerful to be swayed by mortal psychology."

"Tell that to the Slap-Chop in the cabinet."

"The infomercial was very convincing!"

Iriel laughed, high and bright and succeeding in drawing a brief smile from him. She shook her head, then waved him over to the table.

"C'mere, let me see if you have a fever."

Arith obliged, setting his mug down and crossing the room to join her. As soon as he sat down, she placed one hand on his shoulder and pressed the other to his forehead. Her lips pulled into a faint frown. Even worried, her golden eyes seemed to capture the sunlight trickling in from the window.

"You definitely feel warmer than usual." she decided, her hand sliding down to cup his face before falling away. "Maybe you should take it easy for a while."

"That's what I've been saying." Arith grumbled, wincing at the gleam of midmorning sunshine. He'd woken up with a headache, and the light was only making it worse. His bones ached. Sick or not, he was sure he'd be getting nothing done today.

"I think I'm gonna go back to bed." he muttered, ducking away from the sunlight. He'd been compared to a vampire probably hundreds of times in his immortal life, but it had never felt more accurate. If he stayed out here too long, he thought he might simply crumble into dust.

"Alright," Iriel said, "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks, dear."

He wandered back into the bedroom and all but collapsed onto the bed. With his body aching and his sinuses clogged with congestion, he could hardly find a comfortable position. But finally his weariness dragged him under, and he drifted off.

____

Some number of hours later, Iriel's soft voice pulled him back up to wakefulness.

"Oh, that can't be comfortable."

Arith groaned, shifting upwards and blinking the grit out of his eyes. Somehow, he'd managed to fall asleep on his stomach, with one leg twisted over the other and his head propped up on his arms. When he shifted, the muscles all along his ribs twinged from the awkward position. His right hand had fallen asleep.

He flipped himself around, rubbing his eyes and propping his body up against the headboard, and found Iriel standing by the side of the bed.

"It's nearly two. I made soup." she said, sliding onto the bed beside him. There was a cup of broth in her hands, which she handed off to him as soon as he had a hand free. He took a sip, inhaling a lungful of aromatic steam as he did.

"Mm. Thank you." Arith mumbled, managing another sip. He wasn't sure it would help much, but he hadn't eaten anything all day and knew he had to get something into his system. Besides, it was good soup.

"Have you tried miracling it away?" Iriel asked, rubbing her palm in slow circles over his back as he worked his way through the cup of broth. Arith found himself leaning into the touch, sighing faintly.

"Don't know that I have the strength for a miracle right now."

"I'd offer to help, but I think divine magic would only make you feel worse." she said, sounding a little forlorn about it. She never liked seeing him hurt, and he supposed this fell along the same vein.

"You're still helping." he insisted, "The soup helps. I'm really glad you're here."

She hummed a little at that, and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Arith smiled.

"Do you need anything else?" Iriel asked.

"I don't think so," he said, then reconsidered, "Well, maybe some water?"

With just a snap of her fingers, Iriel had a glass of cool water in her hand. She handed it to him, taking the empty bowl of soup as she did. The broth had settled his stomach a bit, and Arith downed the water quickly. Already he was starting to feel a little better, thanks to the extra sleep and a little food.

When he'd finished with the water, Iriel took his glass and disappeared into the kitchen. She wasn't gone long.

As soon as she returned, she reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Her fingers were gentle as she once again checked his temperature.

"You still feel warm."

"Not much else to do but wait it out." Arith said, "Sleep it off."

"Well, I'll wait it out with you." she replied, slipping back into the bed beside him and tucking her head down onto his shoulder. Arith didn't move away, but he didn't move closer as he usually would.

"Nah, Bambi, I'll get you sick too. I'm alright."

"Ah, I'll miracle it away before it sets in." Iriel argued. It was enough to make Arith relent - maybe not his wisest decision, but after thousands of years spent at a distance, he'd take as many of these little moments as he could get. So he pulled his arm around her and rested his chin against the top of her head.

This time, it didn't take much for him to fall asleep.

____

The rest of the day passed by in much of the same. He slept as much as he could manage, and spent the rest of his time pushing fluids and eating a few spare meals. After a few hours, he felt well enough to move from the bedroom to the couch, though he still found himself dozing.

But it paid off. By supper, he felt well enough to manage a trip out, and he shared a lovely meal with his angel. His day, as poorly as it started, grew much better in the later hours.

Just as he suspected, Iriel woke up sick the next day. Arith spared only four seconds to tell her "I told you so". The remaining twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-six seconds were spent utterly doting on her.

But what else was new?

#my friends!!!#my writing #not my ocs #arith #iriel #arith x iriel #fanfic #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens ocs

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bellysoupset · 1 year

Note

alright alright - luke gets migraines you say 👀👀👀 and vince is the absolute goat at taking care of them…. hmmm….. maybe something there??

When their captain didn't show up for practice, Vince knew something was very very wrong. Lucas never missed practice. He came in sick, he had come in concussed from a minor car accident once and even when he was just a regular teammate and not the captain, back when he had just started dating Bell's and going through the honeymoon phase, even then he had never missed practice.

Their coach, Eric, was very useless, but he kept them practicing nonetheless and by the time they hit the showers, all of the men were in a sour mood. Practice simply wasn't the same without Lucas' high energy and terrible competitiveness pushing them forward.

"Vin," Leo stepped out of the shower, drying his hair, "any idea where Lucas is?"

He had texted him before practice and called, but there had been no answer. Bella wasn't in town, out visiting her mother back in New Mexico, so Vince was trying really hard not to text her, despite the growing anxiety.

"He hasn't answered me," Vince shook his head, "I'll stop by his place, I have a key."

"Alright," Leo nodded, worried, "please update us."

It was telling how worrying it was that Lucas had missed practice, because even Jonah hadn't quipped in about him being fine.

True to his words Vince ditched the rest of his classes and drove back to Lucas' building. Unlike Jon's it didn't have a fancy guy who monitored constantly who went up, you just needed to have the access code, which Vince did. He punched it in, then decided against the slow elevator, picking the stairs instead.

Luke's apartment was quiet, just as neat as it was normally. Bella was the messy one of the duo, Vince was well aware.

"Luke? You there?" Vince called out, snooping around. He didn't want to startle the shit out of his best friend or worse, walk on him doing things that Vince would rather not see, "Lucas?"

He knocked on the closed bedroom door, then waited for an answer. Then again. When there was none, he slowly opened the door.

The room was dark, Lucas had pulled the blackout curtains, which could only mean one thing...

"Aw dude," Vince sighed as he circled the bed and found Luke curled up on the floor, sitting against the wall, "hey..."

As an answer, Lucas let out a whimper and cradled his head even more, knees drawn up to his chest. It had been months since his last migraine episode and Vince hadn't been there for that one, so that made at least an year since he had last seen Luke in such a distressing state.

"Let's get you lying down," Vince whispered even more, barely enunciating the words, "I'm sorry-" he grabbed Lucas' arm, very gently ushering him up, only for his best friend to groan and push him away, chest jostling as he aborted a heave.

Vince's heart broke. He was no stranger to migraines, it was almost like he was surrounded by people who suffered with them. From his mom and sister, to Lucas and, now, Wendy too. It was infuriating how helpless it made him feel.

Deciding against moving him for the moment, Vince stepped into the bathroom and then paused, cringing at the fucking mess.

Clearly Luke had been feeling the headache for a while. He had somehow caused most of his and Bell's toiletries to fall to the ground, stomped on a tube of toothpaste in his rush to reach the toilet. And had failed spectacularly at that too, there was dried sick on the toilet lid and on the lid of the trashcan. Vince felt his own stomach turn at the sight, but decided he'd only deal with the bathroom once he managed to get Lucas settled and knocked the fuck out.

Instead, he wet the hand towel and folded it in, also filling up the cup Luke had knocked over with water and walking back to the room. Vin carefully set down the cup out of Lucas's reach, lest it spilled over, and then crouched down before the man, wiping his sweaty face with the wet washcloth.

"Fuck," Luke mumbled and his voice was hoarse and split the word, "Vin, fuck, it hurts..."

"I know, I'm sorry," Vince whispered back too, finishing wiping him clean and turning the washcloth over, so the fresh side was pressed to his overheated nape, "did you take meds?"

Another whimper, Lucas grimacing because of the meds, "won't stay down."

Vince's heart hammered in his chest, "ok" he said quietly, then took Lucas' wrist on his hand and pinched at the skin. It bounced back quickly, much to his relief. At least he wasn't dehydrated, yet, "ready to move?"

"Ok," Lucas groaned, then tried to move, but just the inch he managed caused him to whimper and cradle his head, "Vin..."

"Hug me," Vince whispered, all but hugging him too and Lucas promptly collapsed into the hug, wrapping his arms around his best friend's neck. Then, very very slowly Vince pushed them both up from the ground, immediately aiming for the bed.

He almost fell with Luke too, seeing as the other man was too out of it to realize he had to let go of his neck now that he was half lying down on the bed. He had his green eyes squeezed shut and a horrible frown on.

"I want to die."

"Shhh," Vince cooed, opening the bedside drawer slowly and pushing an assortment of random items to the side. Condoms, extra keys, a CD with no cover, "weed?" Vince raised his eyebrows, but Luke was too out of it to answer about the vape. Vin stashed the information away for another time, finally finding the pill bottle that had a black band on the label.

"Okay buddy, just one pill, alright?"

"Gonna hurl" Luke groaned, face half mushed on the pillow, "stomach hurts, everything hurts."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry-" Vince grabbed the abandoned cup and held up the pill for Lucas, "just a tiny sip, I promise-"

It took some coaxing, Lucas couldn't hold the glass to save his life, but he did gulp the pill down. Only to immediately gag, "Vin-"

"Breathe, you're okay," Vince cooed, taking the washcloth from his nape, turning it around and holding it to his forehead, "breathe."

Luke gagged again, whimpering, but then his body went slack. He let out a little sigh of relief and Vince the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.

He stepped away from the bed, back into the bathroom to refreshen the washcloth, and grab the toilet bin, just in case. The whole thing was messed up, so he had to tie up the bag, wash it and only then bring it back to the room. Luke hadn't moved a finger.

"Bell?"

"Bella's out of town. Remember?"

"Uhm," he grunted, throwing an arm over his eyes, despite the room being terribly dark, "hurtssss"

Vince couldn't answer, didn't know what to answer and knew very well that empty words would only hurt more. Instead he settled for sitting on the edge of the bed, gently pushing the brown waves away from Lucas' forehead and sighing internally.

This idiot was his brother in any way that mattered, this much was clear to him. College or no college, team or no team.

Five minutes later Luke's breathing evened out and Vince lingered, waiting until he could hear snoring before pulling back.

He went back to the bathroom, opening up the window across it and starting by getting the exploded toothpaste off the ground, as well as all the other bottles and creams that had fallen. Then he crouched down to get the cleaning supplies from under the sink an finished cleaning up the old vomit from the toilet, the ground next to it and shut the door, flushing the toilet twice for good measure before dumping some bleach inside.

Much better.

He walked out of the bathroom, hoping he hadn't woken up Lucas and thankfully he hadn't, he was still knocked out. Vince tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door open so he could hear anything and took Luke's phone with him.

Vince's own phone had four different texts. Two from Leo, questioning about Lucas, one from Wendy "where should we meet?" and one from Bella, "Lucas hasn't answered me all day, have you seen him??"

Great.

He clicked on Lucas' phone and on the screen he could already see five different texts from Bella, four missed calls, one of which was his own.

She won't stop talking about us. SOS. Goodnight, text me in the morning. love you. Luke? Is everything alright? I've tried calling... Lucas, I'm worried, please call me back.

Oh fucking yikes, Vince thought as he wiped the notifications away and called Bella from his own phone, stepping into the living room so he wouldn't accidentally wake Lucas up.

She picked up on the second ring, "Vince?! Have you talked with him? Is he okay? If he's okay, tell him I'm going to fucking chop his b-"

"He's sick," Vince interrupted, muffling a chuckle, "well, not sick, it's a migraine. Found him curled up in the bedroom."

"Ah... Oh shit," Bella's anxiety clearly vanished, replaced by worry, "he stopped answering me before dinner yesterday... You think he's been sick since?"

"Yeah, I do," Vince opted not to mention the trashed bedroom, "just knocked him out with the good drugs, I'm hoping he'll be better when he's awake."

"...And if he's not?"

Vince sucked in a breath, could tell that Bella was thinking the same as him, because then she sighed.

"Look, just- Just call me if he's not better and I'll come back. I don't want him alone in a hospital."

"I'm not taking him to ER, he'd panic and make it all worse. If he's not better I'll call Jon, okay?" Vince pinched his nose bridge, feeling his very own stress headache, "don't worry honey, I'll take care of him. Enjoy yourself."

She let out a snort, "kinda hard to do, I've been here for two days and I'm already sick of my mother... Thank you V-" then some cursing as Vince overheard her mother speaking in the background and Bella answering in Spanish, "fucking hell, okay, I have to go. Please call me later, alright? And just- I love you. Take care of him."

Vince's face split with a smile, "yeah, love you too. Bye," he mumbled, feeling a little high from the impromptu declaration. He smiled as he put down the phone, still basking in the warm fuzzy feeling, then shook his head and answered Leo.

Then Wendy... Fuck, he'd have to cancel. They had been planning to go watch a very artsy movie she wanted to see, that only played that one night, and now he'd have to cancel. Vince pouted the entire time as he texted her back.

Sorry, family emergency. I'm gonna have to raincheck tonight.

He cursed as the text turned green, Wendy having clearly received and read it, but no answer came through.

In the bedroom, there was moving around and then a groan, snapping him out of his relationship drama and jogging back to the room, in time to see Luke blinking awake, drunkenly trying to pull himself up.

"Luke, no, don't-"

"I- my head," he groaned, mouth agape, a line of drool down his chin, "I'm-"

"Lu-"

His best friend gagged, productively, and a mouthful of watery bile hit his chest. Repulsion immediately caused him to gag again, just as Vince crossed the room in three large steps and help the bin up for him just in time to the next weak wave of stomach acid.

"Fuck," Lucas groaned softly, eyes still dazed from the pain.

"Yeah, dude, fuck," Vince put down the bin, "don't move, I'm going to take off your shirt..."

Luke was out of it enough to obey, sitting there like a trembling chihuahua, big green eyes moist with tears of pain, greasy hair sticking out in all directions.

Vince grimaced as he grabbed the neckline of Luke's sweat drenched shirt and then stretched it, so he could safely pull it up without getting vomit on his hair, "there you go- no don't-" he didn't get to say anything else before Lucas was falling back against the pillows, grabbing a secondary one and pressing it to his face.

Vin sighed, "okay, sleep shirtless I guess..." he mumbled, bunching up the ruined shirt in a hand and stepping out of the room to throw it in the washing machine.

When he made it back to the room, Lucas was once again, passed out. At least he wasn't awake and in pain, Vince thought sourly, looking at the hour and making a mental note of when he could try the medicine again.

Then he stepped out of the room.

----

"Hey," Lucas voice was hoarse as he emerged from the bedroom, shirtless still, rubbing a hand over his pale face, "I thought I had dreamed about you."

Vince snorted, looking up from his phone, "I'm not that dreamy..." his voice trailed off with concern, "how are you?"

"Better," Luke sat down next to him on the couch, "hangover, I think... When did you get here?"

"This morning," Vince ruffled his best friend's hair, moving to the kitchen and coming back with a gatorade bottle, "bottom's up."

Luke didn't even question it, taking a small sip, hesitant... Then a long gulp when it seemingly stayed down, "what time is it?"

"Uhm, around eight PM," Vince glanced at his phone's clock, "you've been in and out twenty four hours, basically."

"Goddammit," Luke winced, "I missed practice."

Vince stared at him, split between grinning and slapping the man, "never change, Lucas."

#migraine #sickfic #lucas atwood #okay now i need to type something gross to counter act this softness #mywriting

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twotwinks · 7 months

Note

cold hands + shumika

i somehow managed to write this in like an hour and a half while at work...the way the perfect scenario got beamed into my brain as soon as i saw this ask! it took me a bit to get used to shu's voice again but i think i did alright :3

Send me a fall prompt! 🍂

Mika had insisted on accompanying Shu on his shopping trip. Shu had vehemently protested at first — it was a short trip, after all, and certainly didn't require two people. Mika's time would be far better spent practicing, working, simply staying focused on his art. But Shu was only back in Japan for the week, and Mika had made it clear he wanted to spend as much time together as possible.

It was an endearing sentiment, Shu supposed, even if it was a bit inefficient. At the very least, it was nice having someone else to help carry the bags.

He passed one to Mika absentmindedly, already occupied by determining if there were any other stores worth stopping by or if they should return to the dorm. He was startled out of his reverie by Mika letting out a sharp yelp.

"Kagehira! What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Yer hands are real cold, Oshi-san!"

Shu closed his eyes and sighed. As he'd expected, it was hardly anything worth yelling about. "I'm not certain why this is such a surprise to you. It's to be expected, given today's temperature."

"But if yer too cold ya might get sick! Or yer fingers might get frostbite and then ya won't be able to sew!"

It wasn't nearly cold enough for that to be a concern. It was only autumn, after all, not the dead of winter. Shu was prepared to say as much, but Mika had already taken matters into his own hands — quite literally, as he pulled Shu's hands up in front of him before pinning them between his own. "There! I'll help ya warm up."

Mika looked up at him with such unrestrained happiness that Shu found himself suddenly unable to explain the frivolity of the gesture. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling, anyway. Mika's hands were decently warmer than his. Perhaps it was best to simply indulge him, just this once.

The pair stayed frozen in place for a few minutes until Mika decided Shu's fingers were no longer in peril. He pulled back with a satisfied smile, but the cold air merely bit back harder against the warm skin where his hands had been resting. Shu hissed in a small breath at the sensation, causing Mika to look up at him with a blank sort of confusion for a few moments before his eyes lit with understanding.

"Oh! I bet it's still too cold out here fer them, huh? We should go back so you can get all warmed up nice and proper. But how do we keep yer hands from freezin' on the way?"

Mika briefly pondered again until another light went off in his eyes. He took just one of Shu's hands in his this time, confidently lacing their fingers together. "Alright! Now if ya put yer other hand in yer pocket, it might stay warmer too. And I can switch sides on the way home to keep it from gettin' too cold. How's that?"

Shu shook his head, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling, just a bit. "It should suffice. We'd best be on our way then."

Mika was all but bouncing at his side as they set out, enough so that Shu was concerned he'd fall at some point before they reached the dorms. He nearly withdrew his hand to take the remaining shopping bags from Mika and reduce the risk, but ultimately decided to let things be. Shu would be right there to catch him if he tripped, after all. Just like Mika would be there to warm his hands.

Perhaps going together hadn't been such a waste after all.

#itsuki shu #kagehira mika #shumika #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars fanfic #enstars fic #my fic #ok. that's probably enough of that #thank you as always for sending prompts....it's been a lot of fun getting to write from your suggestions again #i love writing from these vague prompt lists. bonus points if i don't have to pick!#roch #oh also! this will be up on ao3 some time tonight #be sure to check reblogs later if you're interested in that :3

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sunoobeloved · 10 months

Text

This is my first time posting on tumblr so please forgive me if I do something wrong lol

- this is crossposted on my ao3 account (sunoossunshine)

- pairing: sunsun ☀️

- tw: being left out, small mention of vomit

*******

Sunoo knew friendships were never promised when it came to idol life. Many groups were like family or close friends and then there were groups that could simply just be considered coworkers at best. He was well aware of this but what he wasn't prepared for the pain that followed being the only who wasn't apart of his groups close dynamic.

Although Enhypen hadn't even celebrated their first anniversary yet. Sunoo still felt no hope in being included in his members close relationship. They were never outright rude to him but yet Sunoo felt like not a single one of them had an ounce of love for him except maybe Jungwon and Sunghoon on occasion. He'd spent the past six months being ignored and left out of every single conversation that wasn't for the cameras. Sunoo could count on one hand how many interactions he had with his members that weren't for show. The once very foreign feeling of loneliness soon became his new normal. Seeing the other six boys play around laugh and have fun together, all while Sunoo was sitting off to the side not even attempting to include himself anymore, made him want to leave the group altogether.

He never considered himself a quitter but he didn't know how much longer he could take it. Speaking up seemed nearly impossible and there's no way for him to know if they would even listen. He bottled his emotions up and tried to push them as deep inside he could. Putting on a fake smile seemed to be his new talent and not even the most observant stalker fan could see through his facade, or so he thought.

*******

Enhypen had been set for a comeback livestream to celebrate the release of their first comeback Border : Carnival and the boys were very excited. They weren't often allowed group livestreams since they had gotten to rowdy in their first livestreams so this was like a special occasion for them. They loved watching the edits the fans made of them all together and seeing how engenes reacted on twitter.

Sunoo was nervous for the live since he mentally and physically couldn't take another moment of faking his relationship with the other members. He had felt sick all day and the thought of fake laughing while watching how a few of the members would snuggle up made his stomach feel somehow even more queasy. Envy was the last thing he needed right now but matter how much he begged his manager he was still forced to join the live.

Sunoo sat reluctantly on the right side of the couch, he played with his fingers while waiting for the members to get situated. Sunghoon had been sitting next to him whilst the other five were spread apart on the couch while Jake and Jay decided to sit on the floor. He watched as Jungwon cuddled up to Heeseung. Letting out a quiet sigh Sunoo pushed himself as far as he could into the arm of the couch trying to avoid Sunghoon who had been accidentally rubbing up against him while trying to avoid Ni-ki's cheek kiss. The slight touch made his heart flutter way more than he would like to admit. If only he could feel that touch regularly. Maybe he wouldn't feel as sick as he did in that moment. Perhaps he could too even be cuddled up in Heeseung's side while giggling about how excited he was for dinner later.

"Alright guys stop playing we need to start the live now." Their manager called out catching the seven boy's attention. Everyone sat up straight within a instant and fixed themselves to look presentable for their fans. "Please keep at least somewhat calm, we don't want to scare them all off." Sunoo knew it was a joke but the seriousness of his tone made his anxiety rise even higher.

A snap of a finger alerted the boys that the live was on and they instantly started their greetings making sure to make their engenes feel welcomed. "Hello guys!" Sunoo mumbled not having the energy to keep up with the other loud greetings. He felt his managers eyes on him almost as a warning. Truthfully he couldn't care less, maybe getting kicked out of the group was what he needed. It's not like his members would care.

Sunoo sat quietly attempting to keep up with what was being said. As the live progressed the more sick he felt. His stomach went from slightly upset to feeling full blown ill. He could feel his lunch sitting heavily in his belly and all he wanted to do was run to bathroom and get rid of it. Yet he was stuck participating in live having to bullshit his way through the fake attention he was getting from his members.

A tap on his side pulled Sunoo out thoughts he looked up at Sunghoon wondering what the boy could possibly need. Sunghoon lowered his head toward Sunoo's ear and tried to block the view on the camera with his hand. "Sunoo-ah are you okay? You keep rubbing your stomach and ignoring Jay when he's trying to ask you questions." Sunghoon whispered seeming genuinely concerned for his member.

Sunoo felt his heart skip a bit. His checks flushed and he quietly reassured the older that he was fine. Even after Sunghoon returned his attention back to the live he still stayed close to Sunoo's side almost like he was trying to protect him.

The rest of the live went smoothly. They ended the live huddling together and shouting out goodbye to their fans wishing them a goodnight. Sunoo was thankful when their manager announced the live had ended and they could go on about their night. He let out a sigh he didn't realize he was holding in and stood up but was suddenly hit by a large wave of dizziness. He felt his feet sway and knees give out but a strong arm wrapped around his waist helped him regain his balance. He slowly looked up trying to make out the face of who had tried to catch him. His vision was blurred and couldn't quite make out the face.

"Sunoo why didn't you tell me you were dizzy? You know you're supposed to tell us if you aren't feeling good." Sunghoon scolded sitting Sunoo down on the couch still holding him in his arms. Oh so it was him again. The blonde felt like he had entered a dream. Since when did Sunghoon care enough about him to expect the other to tell him if he was sick. He would push the other off if he had to energy to some nerve he had. Instead he simply shrugged his shoulders trying to not enjoy the arms wraps around him and how they brought a comforting warmth into his body.

Their manager shooed the other members out of the room and went over to were the two boys were sat. "Sunghoon can you please help him to his room? He mentioned not feeling well earlier but I thought it was just nerves. I'll go get medicine for him, take care of him while I'm gone." Sunoo felt Sunghoon nod and smiled at the thought of the older take care of him. Curse him and his stupid touch starved brain.

"Sunoo-ah do you think you can walk? I can carry you if you need me to." Sunghoon asked while running his available hand through Sunoo's hair.

"I can walk." Sunoo blurted out. The thought of Sunghoon carrying him was making him feel things he did not want to feel. Sunghoon nodded and slowly pulled the other up and walked him over to their room. Thankfully their other two roommates seemed to be spread out somewhere else in the door so Sunoo could have his peace and quiet he so desperately needed.

Sunoo flopped onto his bed instantly regretting it when he felt his belly slosh in anger almost like it was scolding him for moving to fast. He let out a quiet groan and pushed himself into a ball trying to ease his upset stomach.

Sunghoon watched eyes softening in sympathy. He could tell that the younger was getting sick throughout the day. Seeing how Sunoo had to force down their lunch and watching how the boy would rub his stomach randomly throughout the day.

He sighed and sat down next to the younger. "Manager-nim will be back soon so hopefully the medicine can help you. Is there anything I can do though. I can make you some tea that might help your tummy calm down." Sunghoon offered while his hand was slowly caressing the top of the blondes hair.

Sunoo knew he should have just kicked the other out and suffered till their manager came back but having someone to help him through his pain was comforting and the lord only knew when he'd get attention like this again. "I don't need anything just stay with me." Sunoo mumbled pulling Sunghoon to lay down next to him.

Sunghoon smiled warmly and took the other into his arms. He slowly turned the younger to his side making sure to not jostle the poor boys already upset stomach and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Is that okay?" Sunghoon questioned while hesitantly holding his hand on Sunoo's belly. A small mhm from the younger let the older know he was okay with it and could continue his attempt at comforting the other. He rubbed his hand slowly over the sick boys stomach wincing with sympathy when he felt the angry gurgles that were seemingly constantly going off. "You poor thing. Let hyung help you okay? I'm sorry I didn't try to help sooner." Sunghoon whispered sweetly into the others ear.

If it weren't for the war that was going inside of him currently Sunoo would have thought he was in heaven. He snuggled into the olders touch and allowed himself to fully relax. He let himself be lulled into sleep while he listened to the soft lullaby his hyung was singing. He felt the corners of his mouth raise as the first true smile he's had in months took over his face. "Goodnight hyung."

"Goodnight baby."

*******

Sunghoon stayed by Sunoo's side rubbing the others belly and singing softly to keep the younger asleep, even after their manager offered to take his place and let the other go about his night. He rejected the offer and promised to nurse Sunoo back to his normal health. It wasn't until around eleven pm that Sunghoon felt his dongsang start to stir. He noticed how Sunoo's stomach got progressively louder and how his hand could feel each rumble roll throughout the upset organ.

"Hyung is that you?" Sunoo asked rubbing his eyes and rolling over to meet Sunghoon's face. He didn't mean to put his face to closely next to his but getting to see just how beautiful his hyung was made him feel like he was the luckiest boy in the world.

"It is. How's your belly feeling hm? Manager-nim dropped off some medicine for you. I think you should try to take some." Sunghoon said in hopes to convince the younger. He knew Sunoo hated taking medicine. In the past he would watch how the younger had to force his daily vitamins down and how he'd always reward himself with a lollipop after.

Sunghoon watched as Sunoo groaned at the thought of taking medicine. "I don't want to take medicine my tummy feel fi-" Sunoo was cut off by a loud and sickly gurgle. His hand flew to his mouth and it took everything in him to not puke all over not only himself but also his hyung.

"That didn't sound fine to me baby." Sunghoon said while playfully rolling his eyes. "Why don't we make a deal. If you take the medicine, I'll let you pick out whatever movie you want to watch and I'll go get you whatever lollipop flavor you want." Sunghoon wiggled his eyebrows attempting to convince the younger.

Sunoo let his hand fall down lightly giggling at his hyungs antics. He didn't realize Sunghoon knew how he forced himself to take his daily vitamins. Knowing the older cared enough to remember such a small fact about him made his heart feel fuzzy. A lollipop sounded disgusting right now but making Sunghoon proud was the top priority to Sunoo. "Can I get a blue raspberry lollipop then?"

"Of course! Manager-nim left the stuff in the kitchen I'll go grab it for you." Sunghoon got up much to Sunoo's dismay. He walked into the kitchen and saw Jungwon and Jay eating what he assumed was their midnight snack.

"Hyung how is he doing? He didn't look good earlier. Riki said that he noticed Sunoo was off the whole day." Jungwon asked worriedly.

"He's definitely sick. He almost threw up earlier but he doesn't seem to be out of it. I noticed he was off too, he must have a bug or something." Jungwon frowned at the others response. How could he call himself a leader when he didn't even notice one of his members was sick. Jungwon promised to himself that he needs to make it up to Sunoo when he starts feeling better.

"If he has a bug than why are you helping him Sunghoon-ah? He'll get you sick we can't have two members missing. Just let manager-nim take care of him." Jay voiced a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, Jay knew he had a strong immune system and there's no way he'd pick up whatever Sunoo had. He knew there was a rift between the group when it came to the blonde haired boy but he didn't realize just how serious it might have been. "I'm not gonna make our manager stay the night here to take care of Sunoo when I can easily do it myself."

"Whatever dude. Have fun cleaning up puke I guess." Jay mumbled while picking at his food.

Sunghoon scoffed but ignored the olders sarcasm. He picked up the box of medicine and a bottle of water and made his way back to Sunoo. When he entered the room though he saw that the blonde was nowhere to be found. His bed was empty and it looked like the sheets had been ripped off the bed.

"Sunoo-ah where did you go?" Sunghoon's question was answered by a loud retching that was coming from the hallway bathroom. That was not exactly the answer he wanted to receive back. He ran over to the bathroom and quickly opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw the younger bent over curled into himself while he looked like he was trying to stop himself from throwing up again.

"Oh baby what happened?" Sunghoon rushed over and pulled Sunoo onto his lap. Had Sunoo not been puking his guts up five seconds ago he would have questioned Sunghoon on his new found nickname.

Sunoo waited a few seconds allowing his body to settle at least somewhat down. "I was waiting for you to come back when my stomach decided finally decided it had enough I guess." Sunoo groaned out rubbing his hand softly against his belly.

Sunghoon placed his hand over the youngers and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was that bad. I wouldn't have left the room if I knew that was gonna happen." Sunoo attempted to reassure the older it was okay but Sunghoon shushed him. "Do you want to go back to your bed? Your tummy doesn't feel as angry now."

A warm cozy bed was exactly what Sunoo needed so he agreed. After a slow descent to the bedroom the boys snuggled up close like they were before. Sunoo could feel his eyes fluttering shut the combination of Sunghoons magic hand and whatever anti nausea pill their manager had bought him was working wonders and sleep was overcoming his mind. He grinned when he felt Sunghoon press his cheek onto his. He didn't know why the older seemed to grow a very sudden attachment to him but he was thankful for him. "Thank you for taking care of me hyung. I'm very happy you're here."

"I always want to take care of you Sunoo-ah." Sunoo pulled the other closer and allowed his body to be taken over by sleep.

"Hyung's sorry he can't talk to you properly. I get nervous I'll mess up and say something stupid. I love you my Sunoo. Sleep well." Sunghoon kissed the youngers forehead and allowed himself to finally relax and fall asleep.

#sickfics #enhypen #sunsun #kim sunoo #parksunghoon #stomach ache #belly rubs

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2n2n · 2 years

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Omg now that we're talking about the death again I did want to bring up something...

I always liked looking at the position of Tsukasa's arms! A stab to the heart is going to lead to someone losing conscious quickly, but I kind of like the idea that Tsukasa took it with open arms (so to say)... very little blood splatters his arms, almost like he hadn't bothered to struggle. As much as one can struggle when getting stabbed, anyways.

But who knows for sure! I love the idea of Amane snapping, and I can kind of picture it in my head, but Tsukasa is such a wonder. He's been fantasizing about this since he was 4, but does he still want it? And even though he knew about it, did it still manage to catch him off guard? There's so much he didn't know about Amane... so much everyone doesn't know about Tsukasa...

Anyways, Amane's socks are reminding me this took place in a house, so how likely is it do you think that the parents took their lives out of shame of their sons? Admittedly, as a twins purist, I dislike the idea of the parents getting in on their personal little shinjuu in the first place, but I think it would be an interesting way of incorporating suicide into the parents demise (if something else didn't kill them.)

On a more random note, I kind of mourn the fact that Amane didn't make it into the newspaper as a murderer. U_U I like the angst potential. But shinjuu is a fun word at least.

There's really never an implication of swaying arms or blood flying/spraying… paints such a picture of a very passive Tsukasa. The precision of a heart-stab feels like it implicates this, too….! The ability to plunge it in not impulsively, but decisively….

I also think about the status of socks and not shoes!! Being in their summer uniforms, but at home(?), it's got such implications… this didn't happen in the middle of the night, or during dinner, or even on a weekend, or something…. boys still in their schoolclothes… makes it somehow feel impromptu?

Whatever the case is, Amane feels guilty and miserable, and is harrowed by Tsukasa declaring his appreciation…. so even though he knew it was coming, I somehow doubt he (could?) express happiness or gratitude or love in the moment…. always wonder how his feelings towards the shinjuu changed, or didn't, over time… maybe I just like to think about a very sick Tsukasa, unable to communicate thoroughly, or one so speechless by Amane he can't express anything…. so many years of anticipation. Whether he was still waiting for it, or trying to avoid it, or even gradually lost his memories of the Red House or something…. sooo many possibilities….

I'd agree with you that I dislike the thought the parents were too overtly involved! It's almost…. gross to think about? Kimochi warui lol. Get out of here…. I consider any possibility, but, I'd prefer it to be a very personal action, not influenced by parents directly. Though sometimes I think it would be a little funny if the parents in any way WERE involved in the precursor to it, purely because Amane doesn't seem to harbor any strong feelings about them lol, it would say something that he's only focused on his brother, the person he cares about. Nene would forsake her family to die for Amane without warning, it's simply love that matters here lol…. I imagine the Yugi were very 'in their own world' for that moment, just the two of them. Everything else fading away… whatever it all is, it's not being considered. You really want the influence to be minimal.

I would prefer the parents to take care of themselves…. I always imagine the Yugi are such a spooky trip for whoever came to clean up those bodies. These cursed twins. Hope Amane just let his body fall over onto Tsukasa. It's alluring as well to imagine any of their blood intermingling….. weird things to say?

My favorite pet fantasy for the shinjuu (a crazy thing to say) is that Tsukasa attempted to harm himself, Amane came home to this, and couldn't take it… with Tsukasa hurting Amane already reminding me of Aoi attacking Akane, I would love Tsukasa to attempt to pivot by killing himself to change fate, but of course just running into his fate by doing so. These valentines day images are… so loaded??? Tsukasa's heart is crudely damaged… the same can be said for this odd illustration, and I'm sure you and others HAVE read my stupid post on this detail, but for the sake of the blog we must be REPETITIVE!! until we DIE

where Amane's heart is properly sutured up (well, Tsukasa did fix it!), while Tsukasa's is an openly bleeding and wrecked mess, just like the heart in the valentine's image. The X bandages match up with their most likely dying wounds, so I like, can't discount the hearts holding significance. So weird. Takase-Bune also features a guilty brother attempting to kill himself to free his sibling from the burden of his existence…. it would also be interesting for Amane to be sensitive to the idea of suicidal ideation, or dying for him, as Yashiro attempts to do so, too. Tsukasa is such the suicide boy as it is, crawling into a well, and positioning Amane to destroy him as a yorishiro, would bring it all home for me if Tsukasa tried to free Amane, only for Amane to refuse to allow him to go alone, and took Tsukasa's fate into his own hands for a sense of control in a moment of desperation. It's easy for me to imagine Amane feeling something like, "why are you trying to leave me? We have to stay together, I told you I'd always be here, why are you trying to abandon me? I won't LET you go…. I'll go WITH you." … it's what Akane feels as he plunges himself and Aoi into the well in Hakubo's boundary, and bares some resemblance to Sumire/Hakubo, as well. Something about AidaIro's concept of devotion, commitment, romance……… TT_TT

but anyway, with that in mind, guess I love the idea of Tsukasa being in a state of which he can't talk or move much... as a result. Injured, clumsily bleeding, something crude stabbed into him.... unable to answer well for himself, Amane doing all the talking looming over him, a real moment to... not be proud of, looking back on it, feeling like he didn't respond in. a sane way. to Tsukasa. If he got-- weirdly possessive and 'don't leave me! you can't!' as his motivator, feeling abandoned, rather than something more noble .... I would like that for Amane..... the end result of being eternally bound, aouhgh.

like aauugh. The idea of a Tsukasa stuck there listening to Amane go on and on, but, trapped behind a blood-filled throat, a hazy mind, unable to say I love you or embrace him, no matter how beautiful or touching it is, no matter how much he understands and is reassured by every tone, then only upon returning as a yorishiro and HOWEVER MANY YEARS, can he finally say, I LOVE YOU! I LOVED WHAT YOU DID! I LOVED HOW YOU LOOKED! imaaagine the satisfaction.... it’s basically my fanfiction at this point but we have nothing else TT__TT I MUST think about shinjuu...

#avvy's JSHK

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belltrigger · 2 years

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I just hurt myself listening to Yoh Kamiyama's song Cutlery(only relevant cuz it's sort of about an argument). So I apologize for sharing the pain.

But what if Ingo and Emmet had gotten into a heated argument over something that ended with one of them storming out of the apartment to cool off and that was literally their last interaction before Ingo gets yeeted into ancient Hisui?

And Emmet doesn't immediately report Ingo as missing cuz he assumes he's mad enough to avoid and ignore him by spending some nights with Elesa and skipping work, maybe suspecting something is off because of how uncharacteristic that would be of him but afraid maybe they went too far and this is Ingo being done with him? At least up until he bumps into her and she says she hasn't seen him since the last time they all hung out. And Emmet just goes into full PANIC at that!

This is much more detailed than I originally thought. The ideas kept coming as I kept writing I'm so sorry!

Hi there Anon! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ No need to apologize for writing up some ideas! I am always glad to hear them!

So, like, recently a bunch of artists have been enjoying how Emmet says "Okoruyo" (basically, 怒るよ or "gonna get mad!" indicating he's getting frustrated in battle. It's a loss/losing soundbite.) in Pokémon Masters. His incredibly cute Japanese voice doesn't exactly make this very threatening, and most of the art related to it is him half-heartedly telling Ingo to not mess around at work. But we can extrapolate here, and assume Emmet loudly declared this and then stormed out.

He huffs and puffs and pointedly makes himself hard to find. It's tough, they can always innately find each other, but he still tries. And this time, it turns out he's somehow managed to avoid Ingo finding him! The petty satisfaction of this is what encourages him to go home. He'll tease Ingo mercilessly for not knowing where he was! It was the first time in their lives, and he was the one who managed it!

When he arrives home, he dramatically swings the door open, declaring his victory. When Ingo doesn't respond to it, he figures his brother is stewing somewhere. But upon investigation, Ingo is nowhere to be found.

Did Ingo go out to look for him and hadn't come back yet? All of their Pokémon partners were accounted for; it was odd for his twin to not take at least Chandelure with him. Had he worried him so much with his storming out that Ingo had forgotten basic safety measures? Now that he thought about it, the apartment wasn't locked when he came back.

He spends the next few hours feeling more and more guilty while waiting for his twin to return. Ingo wasn't answering the Xtransceiver, which was also odd for him. He replays the things he said in the argument over and over in his mind. Although he had been the one to storm out, he hadn't thought it bad enough to ignore each other. He falls asleep waiting on the couch.

Ingo is still not back the next day. He's worried, definitely didn't sleep well, and he tries to convince himself that he'll see Ingo at work. After an entire shift without his brother, the excuses turn to their friends being involved. Elesa must be letting his brother stay with her. Maybe White came to visit and Ingo was at her hotel after telling her all about his heartless younger brother who worried him sick. Ingo must really have considered it a bad argument if he was not coming home and not answering any attempts at contact.

It's not until he finally caves and checks in with Elesa that the real, true fear sets in. She hadn't seen his brother at all. And now Emmet's search for Ingo is fueled by fear for what happened to him, and guilt knowing that if something *did* happen, it's entirely his fault.

#Blankshipping #Anon ask #ANGST #Anon breaking my heart and I'm breaking theirs right back hopefully LOL #the Xtransceiver is called the Live Caster in Japanese and it's weird to call it otherwise lol

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witchofthescions · 1 year

Text

Guildivain's lair was tucked away in a cave by the Sohm Al foothills. Just west of the springs that fed into the rivers that ran through Tailfeather. Lenar had visited them once or twice during his aimless wanderings in the area. He hadn't been in the cave before, but he knew roughly where it was.

Loifa and Lalah awaited him just outside the entrance. Sapphire could see the anxiousness in Loifa's movements, the way his ears twitched with every passing noise.

"This is it, Lenar," Lalah said. "Guildivain's lair. Remember, our chief concern is Mahaud and Ancel's safety."

"Of course. I've no intention of allowing them to come to harm."

"As for the countermeasure I mentioned before, 'tis a set of garments imbued with a special enchantment to shield you from Guildivain's influence. Should the worst come to the worst, it will keep you safe—and our hopes alive."

"I'm going to guess that they are not exactly compatible with my current garb."

"Well..." Lalah looked him over. "You might be able to wear the headgear, robes and gloves—yes, I realize that your preference is to keep your fingers free, and I did ensure the design accommodates that—over your current clothes, but I suspect the robes would be uncomfortably warm even if it's relatively cool out here."

Lenar sighed heavily. "Fine, fine, give them here and I'll get changed."

"Here you are." She handed him the clothes, neatly folded into a pile. "Careful, they're rather delicate. They should last you the battle at the very least."

"I shall keep that in mind." He began to get changed right there, which elicited a startled noise from Lalah.

"You could at least go behind a rock first!"

"You expect me to figure out how to hide myself? A blind man who can barely tell when someone is looking at him?"

Lalah sighed and shook her head, before turning her back to him. "N-Next time give a little warning, at least, so I have time to look away."

"I shall be sure to keep that in mind."

Once he was appropriately garbed, the trio ran into the cave. Guildivain waited for them inside, with Ancel and Mahaud. The two were not in a great state, writhing and groaning in pain. Lenar could practically feel the twisted aether rolling off of them. It made him sick to his stomach.

"Mahaud! Ancel!"

Lenar heard Loifa running towards them. "Wait, Loifa!"

He stopped, glancing from his friends to Lenar.

"Careful," Lenar warned. "They're not in their right minds and could attack if you stray too close."

Loifa made a frustrated sound, but stayed where he was. "What have you done to them, you bastard?!"

"My, such anger, when you should instead feel joy for your friends!" Guildivain said, adjusting his monocle. "They have the opportunity to contribute to mankind's future."

Lenar grimaced, already feeling done with this man and his self-righteous pontificating.

"That's strange," Lenar cut in, "when Guildmaster Severian and I sought to uncover a way to bring back the dead, we somehow managed to go about it without causing unnecessary suffering in the process."

There was a brief pause, before Lalah piped up, "When you what?"

"Guildmaster Severian...?" Guildivain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, that's the man who runs Ul'dah's Alchemists' Guild, correct?"

"The very same. Our experiments are proof that such things do not, in fact, necessitate sacrifice." "Ah, but you would need to procure corpses in order to test your potions, would you not? How, precisely, did you go about such a feat?"

Lenar was silent for a moment as he considered his words carefully. Before Guildivain had a chance to capitalize on this silence, however, he found the words he wanted. "You do not truly think you are the only person to have lost loved ones, are you, Ser Guildivain?"

Guildivain's eyes widened, his expression difficult to read. Loifa and Lalah both turned to Lenar.

"Our reasons for devising this potion were just as much for the sake of science as they were for our own selfish reasons," Lenar continued, voice quieting. "For Severian, 'twas his lost love, one of the many, many casualties of the Calamity. For myself..." Lenar's hands wandered to the sword secured to his hip, which he had refused to part with even after getting changed. "For myself, 'twas a dear friend of mine who fell defending me from harm. Who died in my arms while I was powerless to save him."

Lalah's eyes widened as something clicked in her mind. She covered her mouth, ears drooping in sympathy.

"A feeling I suspect you are all too familiar with, are you not, Ser Guildivain?"

Loifa cast a glare towards Guildivain, whose expression remained unreadable.

"I am given to understand you were married once. A fellow sage at Sharlayan's famous Studium, where you studied and taught. But one day, she fell ill. Your fellow healers attempted to heal her, but in the end, they could not save her."

Guildivain glanced away, tugging the brim of his tophat over his eyes to obscure them from view.

"Whether you were present at her passing or not, I imagine it has haunted you ever since. The way my friend's passing has haunted me."

"Don't tell me you sympathize with this bastard?" Loifa spat.

"Sympathize? Perhaps," Lenar replied. "Empathize? Most certainly. Condone? Absolutely fucking not."

Guildivain scoffed. "You would condemn me?"

"Yes, I would, because I'm not a single-minded idiot who doesn't care about the pain my actions could—or have caused as long as I get the results I want. I have a much better appreciation for the frailty of life than some grief-stricken madman with delusions of grandeur! I've spent most of my life embroiled in a godsdamned war started by my ancestors, a war I never wanted any part in. I've watched people I love die in myriad pointless ways and had to pick up the pieces." Lenar's voice rose to a shout. "Yes, I, a man who has raised the dead, condemn you, Guildivain! Because at least my experiments involved an increase in the number of lives in the world, however temporary! And what have you accomplished, Guildivain? How many lives have your experiments actually saved, compared to the lives lost?"

"Sacrifices are unavoidable!" Guildivain shouted, throwing his arms wide. "Surely, surely you understand this? That some things are simply too important to worry about the potential costs."

"If you don't draw the line somewhere, then you risk losing sight of your original goal." Lenar sighed. "But why am I wasting my breath on you? You've already decided that your goal is too important."

Guildivain let out an exaggerated sigh of his own. "And you seem intent on playing the part of an indignant moralist."

"I prefer to think of myself as simply having a more grounded view of the practice of medicine. A pity that such an esteemed scholar would be so shortsighted." The sarcasm that dripped from Lenar's tone was practically palpable.

"I do believe that should be my line." Guildivain adjusted his monocle. "No matter. You can yet serve a purpose—as a benchmark for my progress. Oh yes, all the elements are present for a test of strength."

Guildivain shot Loifa a sly grin, which garnered him a snarling glare in return.

"Mahaud, Ancel. Kill these self-righteous fools."

The two moved like barely-conscious puppets. With a roar, they moved to block Guildivain from the group's view. Loifa wince, but steeled himself for the task ahead.

"Hold on, my friends! We'll save you!"

The sages and the swordswoman all drew their weapons in preparation for the fight ahead.

"It should be possible to break Guildivain's control," Lalah muttered. "We just need to find an opening. As for you, Guildivain... It sickens me to think that you are a compatriot. "

"My, my, the animosity is fairly palpable," Guidivain remarked. "I had best make myself scarce."

And with a bow, he disappeared from view. Not that it mattered to Lenar, of course, but it did annoy him that he wouldn't get an easy opportunity to hurl a noulith at the bastard's head. Oh well. He was certain he'd have an opportunity to do so later.

#the unending journey (drabbles)#bloody sunset (patch 4.1-4.3)

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