Fucked up that you have to go to work during the winter. Should be curled up in a little nest with several months' supply of food stocked up right now.
A/N: Sickfic time! This one is for my darling @noblesandsstories , I hope I did Jill justice, and I hope this is passable lmao. I also apologize, I suck at titles.
Divider by: @saradika-graphics
You'd been working your ass off almost all week, and it's been pushing you to your limits. For a few weeks you've been feeling sick, your wife has pried and tried to get you to stay home from work—you were having none of it, insisting that you can continue working through it.
You're starting to think she may be right. As you drag yourself home, you can barely put one foot in front of another. Your head is spinning, your throat feels like knives, your stomach turning, the whole nine yards.
You fish for your keys, and stumble into your shared apartment, putting your keys on the table. Jill isn't home, you note. Not yet anyways.
The house is quiet, only light from the moon peeking through the curtains. Truth be told, you're never sure when your wife will get home. With her job it's always different. It's a bit hard on both of you running on different schedules, but you manage to make it work somehow.
You barely make it two steps into the house before feeling your stomach turn, and you hurry towards the bathroom. Only just managing to make it to the toilet before the contents of your stomach make an appearance.
You crouch by the toilet, hugging the bowl as you retch. And just when you think you're done—more comes out. You groan, tears beading at the corners of your eyes, and your throat burning.
You heave and heave until you can't anymore, panting and quivering as you sit there. There's sweat gathering on your forehead, and your head is spinning. Still, you push yourself off your feet and flush the toilet, then move over to the sink, and brush your teeth.
You slug to the living room when you're done, debating on grabbing something to eat, but the remaining queasiness tells you that that's not going to be a good idea. Instead, you make your way over to the couch, and take a seat, kicking your shoes off.
The sound of sleep sounds wonderful to you, and as much as you try and resist it, sleep finds you.
Everything around you fades away for a little while, and any dreams you might have are forgotten in the haze of your fuzzy mind.
When you next awaken, you feel as if you have cotton shoved in your head. You notice right away that you're laying down, and that you're not in the living room anymore, but in your bed. A shiver runs through you, and you pull the covers closer to you.
"There's my girl," a voice comes from beside you.
You turn your head slightly, your voice a soft croak. "Jill, wha-"
A coughing fit overtakes you, and you hack harshly. Your body curling in on itself.
Jill rubs your back, her brows furrowed in worry. "Easy baby."
You clear your throat, and she brings a glass of water to your lips. You sip tentatively, appreciating the cool liquid running down your throat. She lets you drink until you're satisfied, then places the glass back on the bedside table.
"How are you feeling?" She asks, scooting a bit closer to you. Your feet tangle together under the sheets, and you can't help but snuggle against her. She's so warm, and you're so cold.
You sniffle, your hands curling in her shirt, and you bury your face against her neck. You'd care about getting snot on her if you felt better, but now all you care about is warmth.
"Shitty…" you mumble, grimacing as you speak. "You shouldn't be so close, you could get sick too."
She chuckles quietly, kissing the top of your head. "I know, and I don't care. In sickness and in health, remember?"
You let out a whiny grumble against her shoulder, the noise all but incoherent. She rubs your shoulder, shushing you. "You didn't have to push yourself so hard, you know that right?"
"I know," you sigh, shivering a bit. She seems to notice, and grabs the warm blanket at your feet, pulling it over the comforter. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" She guffaws, shaking her head. "Sweetheart, you have no reason to be sorry. I just hate that you feel so bad. I'll make a doctor's appointment for you, ok? For now, just rest with me."
You hum in acknowledgement, nodding. "Missed you…"
"Missed you too," there's a tender smile on her face. "Always do when I'm out there. Spend every minute thinking about you."
Your heart fills with a warmth your body is lacking. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," she reaches up to touch your forehead. "Fever is still pretty rough. Lay back, I'll grab a washrag for you."
She stands, and you whimper at the loss of her body heat, instinctively reaching out for her. She pauses to grab your hand, and raise it to her lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I promise I'll be back."
With the reassurance, you slump back against the bed, waiting for her return.
A few moments later she returns with a washrag. She takes her place beside you, and grabs ahold of your face gently. She dabs the sweat from your face, doing a once over, before releasing your face and placing the washrag on your forehead.
You snuggle back up against her, and your hand finds hers. "You're so warm, 's nice."
"Yeah, and you're burning up. You've got a fever, no wonder you're cold," she murmurs. "You should get some more rest."
You're too tired to argue, frankly. "Jill?"
"Yeah sweetheart?"
"Thank you…" your words are just above a whisper.
"No need to thank me, just get better," she kisses your cheek.
She watches as you start to drift off in her hold, her heart squeezing at the sight of you so ill. But feeling so grateful that you'd trust her enough to let her take care of you like this. She knows that you're stubborn, she is too. But, you must really have hit your limit for you to let her take care of you.
She listens to your raspy breathing, your lips parted ever-so-slightly as you inhale and exhale; she notes the way your body trembles occasionally, or the small, pained noises you let out. She wishes she could make you better, wishes she could fix it all for you. Instead, she has to wait for the doctor, and she hates that. She hates watching you feel so bad, she feels helpless that she can only alleviate some of the symptoms.
Part of her thanks whatever deity is out there for finally letting your body know it's time to slow down and rest, and that she gets to be here for you. She always wants to be here for you, even in your worst times, because that's what you both signed up for when you put those rings on your fingers.
For better or for worse. In sickness and in health.
Hi! If you have the time; do you mind writing for Winnifred from date everything or Ada Wong? Either one is good <3!!! Have an amazing day and stay hydrated 👍
Yes I can!! I went with Ada cause I'm so in love with her— heh...also I have no clue what to write for Winnifred cause it's even worse than the other two (IM SORRY) anyway—
Suffering From Success
paring: Ada Wong x Fem!reader
summary: Ada Wong is a great girlfriend, the only problem? She's never around.
tags: Established relationship, Ada is the rich man™, I promise this is fluff, long distance but only a bit, reader is a bit depressed, reunion!!, Ada is a good partner, F/F relationship, Ficlet
CW!!: France 🇫🇷, possibly OOC
--------------------------------
It had been almost a month since Ada had left the city for a business trip for “Something or other,” all the way out of the country.
You couldn’t complain much, as when she was away for business, she’d leave her penthouse and credit cards for you to use freely. She’d tell you to spend to your heart's content…as if that was a stand-in for her being in your life.
Okay, you were a bit bitter about the whole thing. You’re allowed, right?
“Merci.” You speak to the shop clerk, grabbing the box on the counter.
You had expected another night alone in the big, empty apartment. Marble floors could only keep you so warm. Another round of watching Love Island alone, eating pastries as a substitution for actual dinner, and finishing the night with doom scrolling till you pass out.
All activities you knew Ada would disdain.
Call it your own little rebellion, because lord knows you’re too sensible to spend more than a cent of what you need with the money Ada had given you access to.
That’s your own fault. Unfortunately for you, you’re not used to having everything taken care of. It makes you feel strange, spoiled. Not in a banana, ‘the riper the sweeter’ way, if not a cake way, the moment you cut into it, the moment you indulge, it hardens and crumbles into a texture akin to gravel. It makes you sick if you think about it too long.
In the elevator, you think about it all. You don’t pity yourself or even detest your life. The woman you love isn’t cruel; hell, she isn’t even unavailable. She just wasn’t present. There was a difference, and it was important. As much as she could shower you with gifts and money, it didn’t make you feel as good as if you were spending quality time with her. You guessed it was just a matter of a difference in love language. You guessed it was something you could work out. But right now, with the box in your hand, you feel defeated, not mad at either you or her…just at the situation. You can’t expect anything else from her, obviously. While she kept her job on the down low, you knew it was important and high-paying enough for all the luxuries that surrounded her. You could never ask her to change her schedule or work hours, lord knows that women would go stir crazy from not working.
The idea makes you smile just a bit. Your lover was such a workaholic that you even imagined her working after retirement…the frail old lady she’d become, and she’d still lug around responsibility like she had a debt to pay.
The doors of the elevator open to the wide living room of Ada’s penthouse. You would expect to be greeted by the empty flat…instead.
“I figured you’d be out…” A familiar, calm voice greets you in the echo of the apartment. Your heart leaps immediately, any melancholy replaced by excitement.
“Ada!” you say back as you place down the box of goodies before walking towards the sound of her voice. You trail towards her bedroom quickly, almost impatient to see her face again.
In front of you sat Ada, lying next to her was a basket of goodies and a tiny package. You ignore any of it and quickly move to hug her tightly. You feel her slender hands finding their home on the small of your back.
“I thought you weren’t gonna be back till the 30th..” You mumble into her hair.
“I couldn’t leave you for that long,” She retorts gently, moving to look at your face. You smile softly at that before leaving her a tiny peck. She keeps her gaze lingering on you as if trying to soak in everything she’s missed for the past month.
You can’t help but giggle gently, your chest blooming with shyness in her eyesight, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re gorgeous,” She whispers. The compliment only causes you to pull her into another kiss.
As she pulls away, she looks to her left, “I brought you some gifts from my trip.”
"You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." She cuts you off before you can even complain. You give a tiny huff before continuing.
“Where’d you go this time?” You muse, settling next to her on the bed.
“Just around the corner…to Dubai.” She shrugs as if it were just that normal.
“Oh my god!!” You laugh, squeezing her hand.
Ada moves to kiss you on the cheek, “You wanna stay inside tonight? Or celebrate? I can get us into La Renommée without a reservation.”
“I think I’d like that,” you say gently, looking at her with adoration.
“Better than what you were gonna eat tonight, hm?” She teases gently. Your eyes widen at that, she couldn’t possibly know—
“I know they’re delicious, but you can’t live off pain au chocolat and madeleines…” She chuckles softly.
You blush, feeling caught in your rebellion, “A woman can dream…”
“Pretty girl, I need you alive after 40.” She jokes as she pulls away to grab a box, “We can wait to open the rest, but this one cannot.” She hands you the box. It’s shallow but long; you couldn’t possibly imagine what's inside.
Ada nudges you to open it up. Gently, you pull on the bow at the top, and the ribbon comes undone, finally giving you access to the contents. It’s a sundress, it’s white and flowy with little colorful flowers embroidered on the collar. The material is thin, a bit off for the weather at the moment..
“Oh, it’s gorgeous.” You say softly, lifting it up to examine it.
“There’s more.” She nods.
You give her a questioning look before you spot a card at the back of the lid. You open it carefully…
“No..” You say, a smile fighting its way onto your lips.
“Yes..” She was amused at your reaction.
“But what about—”
“I asked for some time off, I mean, back-to-back work trips are too much even for me,” She says gently, “I know it was killing you too.” Her voice is remorseful now, and her hand moves to yours.
You feel a rush of emotions flood into your chest, the idea that she felt bad about not being present as well, almost made your heartbreak more. You just nod, before leaning into her shoulder, immediately she wraps her hands around you, “I know, honey, I know.” She whispers to you. She doesn’t say sorry directly, but you understood she was even without it.
“Hey…” She says, pulling away and wiping your tears gently, “There’s something else in there…it’ll make you happy, I promise.”
You nod with a sniffle, lifting up the paper covering the bottom of the box. It was a lacy set of lingerie with a tag saying, “also for the vacation ;)”
Immediately, your face reddens, “Ada!!”
She just giggles softly.
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I love Ada Wong. I also need so much more fluff content about her. Don't get me wrong smut is chill too but like...I WANNA BE HER WIFE. HC: Ada proposes during the trip. also if she ever has kids she'll be like one of those rich lesbian moms.
*I sigh dreamily as a dream bubble pops up above my head* Ada Wong.... - Hunnithan
"Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword."
Summary: With her line of work, it was no surprise to herself that she'd been convinced that the soft parts of life were never meant for her. Ada has never been happier to have been proven wrong.
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: Very small talk of "Hypothetical" guns, drugs, and missions.
A groan leaves your mouth involuntarily when the soft sounds of rustling fabric slowly pulls you from the world of sleep. It ceases for a moment, and it's all the few seconds you need to crack one eye open to find Ada placing spare clothes into a backpack.
You close your eyes and sigh before stretching as as you can; like a cat, letting out a sound of satisfaction when a few joints crack satisfyingly.
The rustle of clothes and gear continue, and you are content to keep your eyes closed for just a few moments more. It's the sound of pills clinking against a plastic surface that successfully wakes your mind up and you can't help the grin that overtakes your lips.
"I don't think ibuprofen has ever been of any help in your line of work, babe."
Ada let's out a chuckle before the sound of a closing zipper takes up the silence that follows. You hear her solidly pat the fabric of the bag, a habit of hers you once compared to how a dad pats the hood of a car after finishing up with tampering the engine.
"Hypothetically speaking, a spy is more likely to pack roofies than ibuprofen, darling."
A humorous scoff leaves your lips and you finally open both your eyes for the first time since waking up tonight, you roll on your front and turn your head to face Ada- A teasing smile on your lips.
"And hypothetically speaking, you don't have a firearms license because all the firearms hidden around our house are loaded with paintballs."
You watch her hoist her bag onto the ottoman, eyes never leaving her form even as she turns to walk in your direction, even as she sits down back on her side of your bed. Ada slowly cards a hand through your hair, her fingernails ever so slightly scratching at your scalp.
For a little while there is nothing but contented silence floating in the bedroom air, the dim light from a nightstand lamp being the only thing illuminating the vast space.
The darkness of the room cannot dim the light in your fiancé's eyes as you bring your hand to lay atop of hers, which has now gone from your hair to your cheek. Ada smiles softly, slowly lifting your hand to her lips and placing a kiss to the back of it.
"Ever the gentlewoman, huh?"
"Unlike Leon, I actually know how to act around women."
The unexpected jibe at your shared acquaintance makes you burst out laughing. The light in her eyes and the smile on her lips never leaves Ada's face, infact they seem to brighten even more at the sound of your joy as she slips back under the covers.
Ada positions your bodies so that her arms are wrapped around you and your head is tucked beneath her chin, she does not pass up the chance to leave a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.
"The man is gay, Ada."
You feel her hum and you feel the follow up shrug as well. It does not escape your attention that her smug smile only grows at your words.
"So is Claire and yet she ended up with Valentine, while Leon and Chris still dance around each other like flaunting peacocks."
You poke her side, mumbling against her collarbone that she knew damn well that wasn't what you meant. Ada only settles down in reply, tightening an arm around you before readjusting the duvet so that both of you are snuggly cocooned in warmth. Comfortable, unbroken silence stretches out for so long that you feel your eyelids start to droop without your notice.
"So when's your next deployment, badass? I know it can't be next week since you always pack earlier than what's normally reasonable."
She hums in thought, trying to guess a possible date of when she'll be given the green light to begin the reconnaissance mission. She whispers to you "It might be a month from now? Two weeks at the very least? There was that one time that it took her employers almost half a year to finalize all the mission details."
You hum and Ada assumes you're brainstorming possibilities alongside her. But when she asks you what your best guess is and she gets no response after a beat, the thoughtful look is wiped from her face and all theories of field deployment are put away.
"Psst."
There is no response from you, only silence and lack of motion. She notices that your breathing has evened out and she shakes her head in fondness before letting out a sigh of contentment. "Was I really that boring, my darling girl?"
Ada doesn't need to look to know that you've fallen asleep on top of her. She closes her own eyes, places another lingering kiss on your head before taking a deep breath, committing the current moment to her memory as best as she can. Ada wills herself to go to sleep as well, but not before whispering a soft reminder to you.
"I love you, sweet thing."
The spy allows asleep to overcome her with a light heart in her chest, the light smile on her lips never fading as your hand resting on her shoulder subconsciously taps a finger four times against her skin in reply.
Three consecutive taps, a short delay, and then another tap.
A/N: Soft!Ada because most works of R.E women on this app are filthy, nasty, back-breaking smut (I will fight whoever accuses me of complaining 👀). I know that someone out there somewhere is wishing for a cute and soft moment with our wives, so I'm putting this out there!
A detail from The Fall of the House of Usher that I didn't catch until the second viewing: When Leo buys the black cat from Verna, he asks her to pose it for a picture that he can compare to Pluto.
It's adorable, too good to be true. However, after Leo dies, THIS is the picture that Pym finds in Leo's phone:
Verna had given Leo a rat, because that's what cat's do.
I'll admit I was initially surprised that it was Roderick, not Madeline, who was the first to say yes to Verna's offer of a consequence-free rise to the top of the company they viewed as their birthright (largely because Roderick never came across as that ruthless unless he was playing a part in Madeline's schemes), but the more I thought about it the more it makes complete sense.
Of course Roderick Usher, who never thinks beyond the moment in front of him and always rushes head-first at any problem that presents itself, jumps on a deal that gives him everything he wants and kicks the consequences of his actions down the road and onto the next generation (and then continues to add to that generation despite the memory of the deal still existing in the back of his mind). And of course Madeline Usher, who always sees the bigger picture and plays the long game to get what she wants, is hesitant to accept a deal that would end with that entire legacy falling out from underneath them (and then takes measures to ensure that she can't have children just in case she didn't imagine it).
madeline usher is actually great sapphic rep the more you think about it because who among us hasn’t found themselves in a messy situationship with the personification of death?
Mike Flanagan looking at Carla Gugino and immediately saying “You need to be cast as a mysterious and ambivalent supernatural milf.” is the biggest brain moment he’s had.
Man, this was staring me right in my face, but Usher's critique of people who sell their children's future for a more luxurious present isn't just like, the stuff of fairytales and bartering your first born to Rumplestiltskin.... it's literally what capitalists actually do.
Plenty of them *KNOW* what they're peddling is harmful, but their various poisons are slow acting enough that many of them figured THEY wouldn't have to reckon with the consequences in their lifetime ... no, leave that to burden the next generation with.
Other Flanagan shows: introspection on love and grief and life and death and the horrors of regret and the ghosts of the past lingering and—
FotHoU: Hey wanna see this hot goddess of death kill a douchebag billionaire every ep? Sure I'll sprinkle in all the usual flanaganisms but you're gonna be in it for the assholes who are given every chance to be redeemed die deaths befitting the stupid lives they led.
we seal mike flanagan away for a year and then every october he re-emerges like a progressively more insane little show business gremlin to put a curse on my bloodline
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