Hi friend! So, I got sick and I was thinking of you can do a drabble fic triplet au, where the reader is sick and Kylo, Ben and Matt take care of her, but, at the end, they got sick too 😊
“What’s in it for me?”
"Make me.“ And “You’re so cute when you’re tired, ya know?” With the triplets please??
Aw I’m sorry boo, hope you feel better. Hope you enjoy this!
Modern AU Solo Triplets +
“What’s in it for me?” +
“Make me.” +
“You’re so cute when you’re tired, ya know?”
Every part of you felt drained and exhausted at the hour. Your body had been trembling with apparent shivers for what felt like hours despite the piles of blankets you had assembled ontop of you. Somehow, by some unfortunate twist of events, you had ended up sick as a dog. Where it had happened you weren’t sure, neither were you sure as to why you had to suffer like that.
Releasing a wavering sigh you pulled the covers closer to your face as your body began to tremble yet again. No matter how hard you had tried, you had ceased to sleep and relented to watch a movie instead. Just as your eyes focused on the screen ahead of you, you heard a light knocking on your door.
Your brows furrowed. What was Matt doing in your apartment?
“Can we come in?”
That’s when you remembered, Kylo had a key. For the sake of emergencies you trusted him most to be responsible for it whether he had to break in or quietly tip toe through.
You groaned faintly, “Ugghh.”
You weren’t certain if you wanted to see them or not. As much as you usually appreciated their presence, you felt absolutely awful and not in the mood to entertain all three of them. Before you could protest however you heard the door creak open and multiple heavy footsteps walk into the room. Soon enough all of those footsteps drew closer as the three familiar frames towered over you.
Ben leaned down to you, placing a quick peck to your cheek.
You gently pushed him away with a faint grin. As much as you hated having company, it was possible that the triplets would be just what you needed.
“Don’t, I’m sick.”
“I know you are. I don’t care.”
Kylo crossed his arms over his chest with a faint shrug, “None of us do.”
“Why are you all here if I may ask?”
Matt smiled at you as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you. In true fashion, he had brought a whole bag full of things you were sure were meant to assure you would feel better.
“To spend time with you.”
You crossed your arms under your chest with one brow arched, “What’s in it for me?”
Ben’s brows furrowed as he sat the end of your bed, “Rude.”
Kylo joined Ben at the end of the bed as Matt turned to you once again.
“We take care of you and you get a day with your favorite boys.”
You rolled your eyes faintly with a smirk, “Ok…that does sound tempting.”
Ben smirked, “Come on you know you want tooo.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
Kylo’s brows furrowed now as he glared at you, “We’re going to make you feel better whether you want us to or not.”
You scoffed, “Make me.”
Without another word Kylo got up from the end of your bed and walked up to where you were. Pulling up all of the blankets on the side Kylo slid in under the covers as you shivered.
“No that’s c-cold.”
“Not for long.”
As he dropped the covers back to the side, with himself successfully under them with you, Kylo scooted closer to your side. Just as you began to accept the feeling of Kylo scooting in with you suddenly the other side of the covers lifted. Sliding in on your other side was Matt with a freshly plugged in heating pad. Gently tapping you Matt smiled as he showed you the heating pad.
“Sit up so I can put this under you.”
You sighed with a nod as you partially lifted yourself up. Instantly you felt the heat eminating from the pad emitting onto your back. Settling back into your place you sighed in content as Matt and Kylo gently wrapped themselves around you. Your eyes began to flutter as you relished in the heat of them on either side of you. What would have been a struggle to sleep earlier was feeling far nearer in reach. The simple embrace of them beside you made you feel all the more safe and comfortable.
Ben grinned as he stood from the end of the bed.
“You’re so cute when you’re tired, ya know?”
Your eyes hazily opened to Ben with a faint grin on your lips.
“Thank you, you’re not too shabby yourself.”
“Come join us Ben, the warmer we can make her the better.”
Ben shrugged, “In a minute, I’m gonna make her some soup.”
A week later you sauntered into the triplets apartment, feeling better than ever. Your time of recovery had done such wonders, you almost entirely forgot what it felt like to be sick at all. Now you were feeling livlier and ready to take on the world. The same however, could not be said for the triplets.
In their affectionate efforts to make you feel better, they ended up getting sick themselves. Not just one of them, but all three. Peering into the living room you tilted your head faintly with a smile at the sight of all three of them shivering with their own respective blankets wrapped around them.
“How are my boys?”
Matt sneezed as Kylo huffed between shivers, “Awful.”
Ben whimpered, “I don’t do the flu (Y/N).”
You shook your head with a little smile as you walked towards them with a giant bag in tow. If they had been so gracious to take care of you, you were surely going to return the favor.
“It’s ok, I’ll take care of you.”
The three of them looked over to you with halfhearted smiles as they watched you walk towards them.
the bonfire was dug into the sand, secured and safe from the sea breeze. the red and orange and yellow bits of flame crackled off and rose into the air, disappearing after a while. the smell of fire filled the area, mixed with the sharp contrast of salty seawater. stars hung low in the sky, side by side with the full moon. heat rose up from the white sand but the chill of the ocean waves and winds were quick to temper the warmth down. messy platinum locks shoved into a beanie. your head on his shoulder, his head on yours. one hand interlaced with the other’s.
Chill music for a not so chill summer. Listen to & enjoy while 8+ hours of music while relaxing on the beach, at bonfires, after-parties, long drives, etc. Although the genre is mostly electronic, I also threw in a few alternative/indie songs. Good study music as well, but let’s not think of that quite yet :) Artists include Shlohmo, Clams Casino, The 1975, Kygo & Yinyues remixes, etc.
Alright, folks. I know I haven’t been as active as I’ve promised. Truth is, especially since Steven Universe has become so monstrously popular, it’s hard to hold up a blog devoted to pushing theories that I haven’t seen anywhere else, since I tend to see most decent theories everywhere at this point. Perhaps it’s time for a rethinking of that premise, but I still don’t think my work would be anything other than redundant if all I ever did was parrot and repost already-popular theories. That, and tumblr’s frequent technical errors and hurtles on my end, can be very disheartening.
That said, today I have something a little out of the ordinary for you all. Rather than a “theory” in the strictest sense– taking an educated guess at the intentions of the showrunners– this is going to be a bit of a diversion into self-indulgent territory, to inspire me to at least contribute something after all these months.
I’ve always been very fond of science fiction, especially the creative field of speculative biology– the hypothesizing of organisms as they might exist in ecosystems alternate to our own. As such, I’ve decided to write a speculative look at the Gem Homeworld, and a sort of hypothetical natural history of how a group of entities like Gems could arise in our own universe.
If that’s not what you’re here for, then keep on scrolling. If that sounds interesting to you, though, please enjoy.
Fic idea/request: Ginsy + “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” I've recently fallen in love with Ginsy (and your writing), so when I saw you were taking fic requests, I couldn't resist requesting a short story about the two of them! <3
Pansy Parkinson had a problem with Ginny Weasley. Not the kind in which she wanted to sell her out to the Dark Lord (contrary to popular belief, Pansy did not relish in such activities–the incident with Potter last year was a necessary evil). It wasn’t even the kind of problem that made her want to curse the Weaselette. No, this was the kind of problem in which Pansy wanted to kiss her, and hold her, and do naughty things to her in the Room of Requirement. In other words:
“Kill me, Draco,” Pansy said histrionically, swooning across the blond so her head rested in his lap. “I can’t take any more.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Pans, you’re acting like a Hufflepuff.” The potency of the jab was diminished by him running his hand through her hair. She hummed softly at the gesture, peeking through lidded eyes to see if anyone was looking. Thankfully, everyone seemed focused on the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, so her eyes fell shut once more. While it was common practice for Slytherins to be affectionate with one another in private, it was quite another matter to do so in public. Even with their so-called “reformed” status since the war, some rules stayed in place.
“Is she scoring a goal?” Pansy asked, peeking through her eyelids again. A quick glance at the pitch gave her an affirmative. Pansy squealed and buried her head.
“How in Merlin’s name are you rationalizing this behavior?” Draco asked. Pansy knew from his tone that he was making his I-can’t-do-this-right-now face. It made him look like Lucius when he supervised their play dates as children. She didn’t mention this to Draco, however, because comparing him to his father was like asking to be jinxed.
“She looks like a phoenix,” Pansy said. “All that red hair and confidence, and that Slytherin smile she flashes after she throws the Quidditch ball–”
wakes with a jerk, pain searing through his abdomen as he falls back into the
bed. He keeps his eyes tightly closed in an effort to minimize the spinning of
the room around him. Everything aches and his throat is dry. “Linc?” he doubts
his brother can hear him, but he also doesn’t have the strength for anything
later the door opens, and he’s glad to hear his brother’s heavy footfalls. He
focuses on breathing, knowing he is due for another painful wound cleaning.
Some part of him realizes that the footsteps coming nearer are far too light to
be his brother, and much too careful for Whip. But it’s the hand on his arm
that forces his eyes open.
Listen: Jamie xx - Sleep Sound The production boffin behind The xx continues to kill it when away from his bandmates. Whether it be introducing a whole new generation to Gil Scott-Heron, remixing Four Tet or putting out his own material, Jamie xx is clearly one of the top producers in the game. “Sleep Sound” continues in the vein of “Far Nearer” and “Beat For”, with woozy instrumentation, repurposed elements of R&B tracks and a great shifting beat. An album would be a nice treat right about now, J.
i’m back home and taking a few days off before i go back to work. feels nice :)
i grabbed lunch with a friend yesterday and will be doing that today as well.
i’m currently doing some much needed autumn cleaning (as opposed to spring cleaning).
i just registered to pick up iodine pills that are being handed out in my city because of the nuclear power plant of tihange, belgium. the fact that my city (in germany, about a hundred kilometres from the power plant) feels the need to do so somehow does not make me feel safer. who would have thought! it is also funny in an entirely unfunny sense to me that the government of my city is urging us to pick up these pills whereas (as far as i know) neither the dutch, the belgian, the french or the luxembourgian (or other german cities just a bit further away, for that matter) are doing any such thing. and they all have cities that are equally far or nearer to the fucking thing.
i start with my bachelor’s thesis in three weeks! still waiting for my topic though, i’m getting antsy.
i finally bought a new macbook. it should be delivered tomorrow. there go all my savings, but i’m soooo looking forward to a new laptop after seven years with the current one.
Sometimes we need to take a break and zone out - here is a mix for that. This consists mostly of chill electronic music with alternative tunes thrown in; some featured artists include ViLLΛGE, Slow Magic, TOKiMONSTA, etc.
Request: Reader is in very bad condition after hunt. She almost dies there. But Cas (her boyfriend) doesn’t have enough power to heal her so he tries his best and transport her and brothers to hospital almost killing himself in process but he doesn’t want to sit even when he’s horribly weakened until doctors won’t take care of her. Then Dean has to talk to him and help him when he’s close to fainting.
Can you do a songfic for Rather Be by Clean Bandit?
You looked across the crackling fire to Cas, sitting placidly with his hands in his lap. It was amazing how he seemed to glow more than the fire, even in this darkest of nights you’d come across yet.
“I am. Thanks,” you smiled at him. He’d already lent you his coat and it was draped over your shoulders now, pulled around you snugly. You looked up at the stars, wondering what the sky over the bunker looked like now, a world away.
“I’m sorry we’ve been so out of the way of…well, everything the past few days,” Cas said, looking to his hands. You shook your head at him, the small smile still there.
“I don’t mind. It’s ok to rough it sometimes. It’s felt almost like a vacation without any of those demons showing.”
“Yes,” he said quietly, brow furrowing. “It is strange they haven’t found us yet. We’ve made ourselves obvious enough.”
“Maybe they know we’re looking for them. Maybe they know we’re trying to trap them,” you offered.
You dug the toes of your shoes into the sand, watching the way the grains fell on either side, and felt your stomach turn at the thought of this trip being over. It was your last night on this recon mission before you headed back to Sam and Dean to let them know what you’d found. It had been so easy being with Cas, even in the middle of nowhere and miles from home and any of its comforts.
“I have to tell you something. And it’s going to be a shot in the dark, but….I just need to get it out. I just need to take it.”
summary: Post-graduation. Fancy Footwork AU. Some foreshadowing.
“And this is the view from my place,” Sakura announced, turning her laptop to face the window. There was a tap and then some crackling as Itachi fiddled with his laptop screen. She could see his face in the reflection of the window, squinting at the view.
“Well…” She could hear him hedging, not wanting to offend her.
The text came when he’d been playing the Stradivarius for more than
an hour, when the thoughts in his mind had begun to run calm and clear
without shame or analysis in the way they did only at the height of the
music. When the alert sounded, he kept playing, let the melody carry him
through to the end of the movement before he opened his eyes to the
world again and picked up his mobile to see one new message from John
The baby’s not mine.
His fingers hovered helplessly over the screen for a long moment before he typed back, Come here. SH
Thirty minutes later, he heard a series of steady, soft creaks
from the stairs, followed by the small click of the sitting room door
being pushed open, and he turned to find John in the doorway,
blank-faced and staring. The simple misery in his face settled into
Sherlock’s chest with an ache that felt remarkably, breathlessly, like
John blinked; took a slow step inside, closing the
door behind him, and Sherlock moved toward him, hands held out on pure
instinct; but John lifted his own hand in a gesture of wait, stop;
shook his head. “Just–let’s be normal,” he said. The soft sound of his
voice in the silence of the flat was pale, empty, half a whisper with
tears just behind it, a voice Sherlock had heard from him only in the
first days of his resurrection–the fearful newness of his return always
between them. But now John looked at Sherlock like he was all the light
there was left. “Give me tonight, yeah? Just one normal night.”
he pulled off his jacket, and his shoes, with slow, careful movements,
doing his best to work around the gentle unacknowledged tremble in his
hand; looked around the flat as though searching for something, and
walked steadily into the kitchen. Sherlock fingered through the
periodicals in the bookshelf, unseeing, listening to the soft
clunk-clunk of the cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen, water
running into the kettle, the small noise of disgust John made when he
opened the fridge in search of a lager and saw what was bagged in the
crisper–it was astounding, how right it felt, how the static in his ears
cleared away and he could think again, in spite of the dread in his
When they were settled side-by-side on the sofa in the
lamplight, with John’s beer and Sherlock’s unacknowledged but
fiercely-welcomed cup of tea, and the telly tuned in to some inane
broadcast Sherlock wasn’t hearing, focused as he appeared to be on his
laptop–fixated as he really was on John and sitting far nearer to him
than he ever had before (not that either of them had acknowledged that
by so much as a glance or a word or a breath out of place)–only then did
John seem to relax into his sorrow, inch by inch, as the program went
on and Sherlock’s typing maintained a quiet background cover for his
glances, the carefully unmoved expression he kept up while John’s face
slowly drained of everything but grief.
It grew harder and harder to type, to think, to breathe.
When John’s phone went off they both jumped.
Sorry,” John murmured, and why on earth was he apologizing? But he was
opening the message and then there was a minute of utter silence
before he dropped the phone into his lap, and laid his head on the
sofa back, and closed his eyes.
“She’s told him,” he said. “He’s there with them, at the flat.”
Fine spasms shook his hand, open on the
sofa between them, and it was too much; Sherlock took John’s small palm
between his two warm ones, just firmly enough, and John let out a long, slow breath without opening his
“I assume you’ve figured out it was–David.”
There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that, except, stupidly, "Are you okay?”
John laughed. His closed eyes fluttered a little, and he laughed; and Sherlock waited for the Fine, yeah, the impulse of John’s instinct to protect, to keep all his hurts safely hidden and out of everyone’s way.
The world went still. John’s eyes pressed tighter shut; his mouth turned down.
Tears began to roll down his cheeks.
Sherlock said, and felt John’s hand shiver in his, and then a quick
movement and he was curling over onto Sherlock’s shoulder, weeping silently; sheltering in him, burying his face in Sherlock’s shirt, damp
heat spreading through into Sherlock’s skin. Something immense and fierce and tender was growing inside of him. He held John’s hand carefully, close
against his body; listened and listened to the unearned hurt cutting its
slow way through John’s heart.
At last the weight of him went limp,
through embarrassment or exhaustion–uncertain which without further data. He wasn’t sure if he
ought to apologize. He hadn’t meant to uncover that, to unmoor him so thoroughly, but
John was breathing deeply, slowly, into his neck, and his hair
brushed Sherlock’s cheek, and he wasn’t trying to move away; and there
wasn’t much left that Sherlock was capable of doing, except bearing witness.
He’s alive, he’s here, he’s safe. He’s alive, he’s here with me. I can help him.
So soft a whisper he couldn’t really hear it, could only feel the words being spoken into his skin.
John pulled back, pink around the eyes, damp, not meeting Sherlock’s look. “I’m alone.”
“You’re not.” Too strong, too quick; John jerked at his tone. But that was wrong–“You’re not. I’m–” Did it matter now? “I’m here. Always. I did say that.”
A moment, then: “You did. You promised.”
“I vowed, John.”
John, shattered, shining, worn out and empty and trusting, looked up at last and smiled.