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cerisefait · 7 months ago

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Hello my dear!! As i promised here's my request. Can you write a Shanks x reader fic where they have been together for a really long time and beacsue of this Luffy looks at the reader like his mother figure? Like just imagen the Strawhats meet the reader and Luffys first reaction is to shout "Mother!" and the Strawhats are like "Wait.. That your mom???" i could imagine all of the being like really surprised XD and also obviously Shanks is there as well and tgat also cause another set of confusion like?? Shanks a big pirate?? Here?? I can just imagine the chaos and happiness that it would bring to Luffy

The Confession

[1,9k words]

a/n: I'm baack and motivated than ever! so sorry for the long wait @smolracoon25 but I hope I did you justice with this one and I hope all of you readers enjoy it <3 I've put a little spin on the request and wrote an angsty romance with a happy ending x

(warning! description of drowning)

‘Look out!’

The sound of swords clashing filled your ears: Metal on metal clanking in a deathly duel against Red Haired Pirates and the Intruders.

‘I can handle myself Shanks!’ You exclaimed as you made your way to the butt of the deck in an attempt to escape the guy who was chasing you with a sword in his hands.

You were successful for a moment. Taking a quick look at your crewmates, you couldn't help but feel your heart shatter at the scene which unfolded before you. Most of the barrels were scattered on the floor, some of them were on fire: One of your crewmates was trapped in a corner and the others were fighting for their lives.

Your view was suddenly cut off by a larger and thus, threatening frame.

'Don't you dare come closer.’ You stated sternly but the quaver in your voice gave your fear away.

'What are you gonna do about that, princess?’ said the unwelcome pirate, clearly enjoying the display of his actions.

Upon hearing the disgusting cockiness and the nickname that came out of his mouth, you furrowed your eyebrows. 'Don’t you fucking dare! …Stop!’ You yelled, taking small steps backwards.

'You'll make a very pretty hostage, it's been so long since we had a woman on our ship.’

‘I said stop!’

Now, you were on the edge looking for someone to come to your aid. Your eyes wandered around in hopes of finding Shanks but to your misfortune, he was too busy trying to save the trapped crewmate.

For a split second, he looked back at you; the fierce and confident look in his eyes turned into a fearful one.

Knowing what's to come, he knocked the guys he was dealing with within a blink of an eye and rushed towards you but he was far away.

Seeing your gaze fixated somewhere else, the foreigner tried to take advantage of your distraction and took a step closer to you.

And out of instinct, you took a step back.

'NO!..’

Suddenly you were face to face with the sky: falling on your back, feeling the cold breeze on your skin.

As you were falling, you screamed Shanks' name at the top of your lungs with terror. The feeling of panic and adrenaline was coursing through you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you waited for the inevitable.

‘(Y/N)!’ he exclaimed rushing to you, knocking everyone and everything that got in his way.

…that was the last thing you heard before submerging deep into the depths of the ocean.

At first your back came in contact with the water's surface in which you felt a sharp stinging pain that spread all across your body. Feeling that pain, your eyes opened widely.

You tried holding your breath for as long as possible but after a few seconds, you inhaled some water which made you splutter, cough and inhale more.

There was a burning sensation in your chest, making you instinctively panic... Until you surrendered.

When you stopped fighting you felt calm, tranquil even. You knew what it meant: the loss of consciousness was showing its symptoms because of the oxygen deprivation.

In the meantime, Shanks was done with the intruders. The rage he had inside of him was enough to fight all of them. He was swinging his sword in such a delicate way that made his enemies fear and search for a place to hide. Your fall gave your crew a massive anger which they couldn't contain any longer and lashed out on the enemies with more power.

Seeing his mates handle the foreigners, Shanks immediately jumped off of the deck to save you. The water was dark, chilling and you were nowhere to be found: he had to swim deeper.

He didn't have the time to think about taking off his clothes before jumping, he had only removed his black coat. And the fact that he was wearing layers didn't make it easier for him to swim.

But luckily he found you quicker than expected and got a firm hold on you, manhandling you in order to waste no more time.

When both of you came up to the surface, he called out your name multiple times but you weren't responsive. Holding your fragile frame in his arms, with the help of his crewmates, he managed to get you back on the dock.

Looking at your face in desperation for a sign of life, he tried his really best to keep his composure. But the fear in his eyes was evident. Getting on his knees he laid you on your back, tears welling in his eyes while maintaining a stern, angry look on his face.

He gave you cpr, tried everything in his power but nothing seemed to bring you back to life… to him. After the last mouth to mouth, he was exhausted. He looked at his crewmates for hope, but all he saw was faces close to crying.

He then turned his gaze back to you, drained and hopeless. He put his hand on one of yours and held it gently. Your skin felt strange, it wasn't like what he was used to. With his thumb, he circled swift emotions on the back of your hand and gave it a little squeeze.

…with that, he gave up.

He lowered his head, letting a warm tear move across his cheek and drop onto the wooden floor. He didn't want anyone to see him so… defeated.

Just then you moved your fingers a bit, the warmth of Shanks' hand was a huge contrast compared to the coldness of your damp clothes clinging to your body.

You weakly mewled Shanks' name but he was in a complete trance; He didn't hear you the first time.

You tried calling his name one more time, trying to open your eyes ever so slightly to get a look of his face.

He quickly switched his gaze back to you. there you were breathing, alive. That was the most miraculous thing Shanks swore he had ever experienced.

He softly whispered your name, a look of relief and adoration in his eyes as he tried to help you to get in a sitting position. With the help of his left hand on your lower back and right one holding your hand, you sat up coughing.

‘I thought I lost you.’

'Me too...’ You winced in pain. The air in your lungs was filled with water and the burning feeling made it hard to breathe or speak. Shanks looked worried but he continued.

'I'm glad you're here, with me… I can't bear the thought of you not being right by my side.

I need you more than anything in my life (Y/n) and I'm done trying to hide the fact that I love you. ’

'Shanks… I-’

'Don't tire yourself out sweetheart.’

Not being able to say those three words frustrated you so you grabbed him by his collar and planted a weak kiss on his lips.

Everyone around you was happy.

Ever since that day, Shanks and you became inseparable. Luffy always saw Shanks as a father figure, so it was only normal for him to look up to you as a mother figure.

Even though it created some sort of confusion and the assigned family ties made it difficult being a pirate, all that mattered to the both of you was Luffy's happiness.

*****

Present day

'Luffy! Looks like we have a visitor.’ yelled Nami.

'What? Where?’ He got hyper excited as he always did.

‘'Calm down cap. Visitors are mostly never welcome.’ Told Zoro in his usual grumpy tone.

'Would it hurt to be positive for once, Mosshead?’ asked Sanji.

'If it means that I'll be agreeing with you then yes… Cook.’

They started snarling at each other.

'Guys, quit it!’ Nami yelled once again.

The figure started to become more recognizable. It was a beautiful woman walking with a larger crew behind her but it was quite hard to observe the others: They were further away.

'Anybody know who she is?’ asked Usopp, confusion clear in his voice.

The strawhats stared at her, then turned to their captain in unison. Luffy was awfully quiet.

‘... Who is she Luffy?’ Nami questioned.

'That's my… mother.’ He stated very calmly.

The rest of the crew was shocked for many reasons. One, how could he stay so calm and two, she's his what now?

The woman and Luffy made eye contact. She looked so relieved to see him. Her eyebrows lifted upwards, her eyes teary. The same look was now on Luffy's face.

When they were few feets apart, the woman shouted

'Luffy?’

Upon hearing her calling his name and the sound of her voice, Luffy broke into tears of joy, lifting his arms high above his head, yelling ‘Mom!’ before running to her.

They hugged, everyone was confused. Then, the bigger picture started to unfold: The strangers' jolly ranger was the one no other than Red Haired Pirates’.

‘Are my eyes deceiving me or is that…’

‘Oh my god.’

‘Shanks?’

Luffy was crying like a baby in his mother’s arms while she looked peaceful holding him. They were lost in the moment when Shanks came up and wrapped his arms around both of them.

‘We saw your wanted poster… I’m proud of you kiddo.’ said Shanks pulling away from the hug to look Luffy in his eyes: They were already swollen.

‘We’re all proud of you sweet boy.’ added the woman.

Luffy was enamored, his happiness was all over his face. His hands then went over to his head, moreso to Shanks’ hat.

‘I think this is yours..’ he said, offering it back to Shanks, looking grateful. But Shanks could see through his defeated smile that he loved his hat and didn’t want to let go.

‘Don’t think so, kid. It belongs to you.’ he said, smiling warmly.

‘Plus.. your mother here thinks it suits you more.’ he whispered, rolling his eyes at her, laughing.

‘You think so?’ asked Luffy with a golden retriever energy, smiling ear to ear.

‘I know so.’ she replied, giving him a wink and shoving Shanks’ shoulder playfully.

‘Uh.. sorry to interrupt but… Luffy?’ It was Nami.

‘Yeah?’ Luffy answered, expectant huge eyes directed in her way. He looked completely oblivious.

‘...Care to introduce us?’

‘Oh right!’

He introduced his crew one by one: They were all thrilled to meet Shanks and the others. After all, he was one of the biggest pirates.

But what mattered the most was, Luffy was over the moon: He was with the ones he loved the most. Shanks, his mother and his own crew all in one place. How could he not be?

THE END

#one piece imagine #one piece live action #opla shanks #opla shanks imagine #shanks imagine #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #one piece fic #reader insert

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starks-hero · 2 years ago

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Oh, Little Horned One of the Old Oak Tree

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: Becoming the avatar of an ancient Celtic god came with some unforeseen side affects; side affects which you are yet to tell Steven about.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, slight body horror if you squint, Steven is a ridiculously supportive boyfriend in the face of fuckery and we love him for it

a/n: giving the reader a supportive god/avatar relationship because it's what they deserve

It's not that you hadn't tried to clean the blood, you'd done your best. But it stained the tips of your fingers and left the porcelain tiles of the bathroom a dark red.

You weren't entirely sure where it had all come from, but the damp, matted hair surrounding where the antlers had sprouted from your head served as a good indicator.

It shouldn't be happening, not yet. You had at least another fortnight till the next eclipse, (if your notes were anything to go by.) But you knew the moment your muscles began to ache and your bones began to creak that it was indeed happening, and it wasn't going to stop regardless of how upset it made you.

You'd tried to call Jake. Then Marc. But you didn't want to risk Steven answering the phone.

The bathroom was the closest refuge you could find and as it would seem it was far from the most ideal of places. You'd torn down the shower curtain in your haste to hide and all but shattered the delicate tiles beneath your feet.

The mirror had also fallen victim to your havoc, an almost artistically applaudable webbed crack spreading out from the centre of the glass where your elbow had made contact. A handful of rouge shards littered the floor and made quick work of slicing open your palm.

You glared at the offending piece of glass before picking it out of your hand and throwing it across the room with enough force that it was embedded in the opposite wall like a well-aimed dart.

You could still make out your reflection through the broken glass pane. Antlers sprouting from the crown of your head, winding off in all different directions. There was a pale glow to your eyes and ruins and ancient symbols wrapped around your arms and the expanse of your chest. And if your abundance of new features hadn't already qualified you for your own Magic: The Gathering card, you'd also doubled in height.

This would be a fucking delight to explain.

You took a moment to thank the gods for Stevens's late shift at the museum before steadying yourself with a deep breath.

You'd felt every bit of it; the stretching, twisting and growing of entirely new bones. And if the persistent pain in your chest and spine was anything to go by you figured it was far from over.

You could hear the deep, resonant voice of your deity, distant and far off, like rushing water over rock. His words were gruff and shaped by his accent as he apologized profusely; and as ego-boosting as it was having an eldritch being admit defeat and practically beg for your forgiveness, you found yourself in too much pain to truly enjoy the moment.

“Cernunnos,” you cursed the god's name.

Your legs were still crammed uncomfortably against your chest and the bathroom door whilst your antlers continued to do a glorious job of scrapping the paint job off the ceiling.

Another wave of pain hit, burning through your veins and seizing hold of your lungs. You coughed and spluttered, each attempt at a breath snagging in your throat like leaves catching on dead branches. The horrid sensation of shifting bones hit your chest and you doubled over with a hiss.

“Please make it stop.”

“I'm sorry, fia beag,” (little deer) the god said, his reflection appearing in the mirror shards. His antlers filled out the frame, putting your own to shame and his eyes, (despite, like the rest of his body, being those of a stag, which as far as species go aren't the most emotionally expressive–) were almost apologetic. “I've tried my best, I asked Manannan to reverse the tides to change the lunar phase and buy us time but it's too late.”

It was heartwarming really; how Cernnunos cared so much, enough to ask a fellow god to inconvenience the entire ocean all in the name of saving your love life. You were glad to have him, even if he was the reason you were going through pain worse than fucking childbirth.

“I'm sorry.” The god's ears flattened against his head and you wondered if you'd said the last part aloud.

“What's the point of all this again?” You'd shifted before but it was never irregular and never this bad.

“A thousand years ago my worshipers adored when my avatar arrived at Imbolc in this form!” Cernnunos sounded excited.

“So it was to show off?”

“To make the people feel seen and protected,” he countered.

“And it's something I have to go through because–?”

The god was quiet for a moment. “Old habits die hard?”

Cernnunos had off-handedly mentioned (downright bragged) about the pact he'd made with the moon sometime before the construction of Newgrange. That his avatar would be gifted with a godly form the night of each lunar eclipse. You weren't well versed in ancient deals between eldritch beings but apparently, it's not the kind of agreement you can back out of a millennia down the line.

And apparently, another moon-related god had initiated an eclipse two weeks ahead of schedule. (your money was on Khonshu over Artemis.)

“It will be alright, little one,” Cernnunos promised. It was soothing having him near, but he tended to have that effect. With him, you were like a fawn, comforted by the knowledge that it was protected by its elder. “Besides, it's not as though this night could get much worse for us.”

Almost comedically, the struggle of key in lock sounded and then the front door opened.

You and the god stared at each other, quite literally, like deers in headlights.

“Love? I'm home–”

Steven's voice sent your flight, fight, freeze response to full throttle and you beckoned for Cernnunos to leave as quietly and frantically as you could. The god seemed reluctant, but another chorus of a British accent from the other side of the door and he relented.

The glass rippled like water on a lake and then he was gone.

You could hear Steven moving around the flat, carrying out his usual routine of removing his name tag, unbuttoning his over shirt and tossing his bag on the couch.

You held your breath when the floorboards of the bedroom creaked and silently prayed he'd just call it a night in favour of finding you hiding in the bathroom looking like something straight from Pans Labyrinth. When he called out for you again you sent your head back against the wall with enough force to crack the tiles.

“Love, you alright?” There was three gentle raps on the door. “Darling?”

“I'm fine,” the words were unsteady. And had your voice gotten deeper?

There was a beat of silence outside the door then, “You don't sound fine.”

“I'm just not feeling great,” you managed. Just go, Steven. Please just go.

“Oh, darling, are you sick? Here let me–” The terrifying sight of the door handle turning caused your heart to almost hammer out of your chest. You rushed to press your foot against it and watched in horror as the timber split right down the middle. The door was barely clinging to the hinges.

You could hear Steven's shock on the other side of the door, a string of curses followed suit. “Y/N–”

“Just leave it, Steven!” you bit out. You hadn't meant for the words to sound so animalistic, so angry. But the only thing currently preventing your life from crumbling was a splintering door and your refusal to move your foot. You were allowed to be rash, you thought.

“Alright, you're scaring me now–”

The universe really wasn't letting up with its ironies today.

The wooden door panels creaked and splintered as Steven tried to open it from the outside. You kept your foot firmly pressed to the middle, but as the hinges began to groan you felt the sturdiness give way. It felt like you had your foot against a wet piece of tissue paper; you were going to tear right through it.

With one more shove from Steven's side, you were forced to surrender.

The door swung open with truly theatrical measure and Steven stumbled in behind it. Instinctually, you pushed yourself against the back wall, forgetting your new height and putting your head through the ceiling as you did.

Chaos is too kind of a word for what followed.

The sound that left Steven fell somewhere between a startled shout and a scream of genuine terror. You reached out and Steven fired back, his feet tying themselves in knots and sending him to the floor.

You struggled to pull your head out of the crater you'd left in the roof. A fine layer of debris and dust covered you and somewhat important-looking wires were strung across your antlers like poorly hung Christmas lights.

Almost on cue, the bathroom light flickered twice and came away from the ceiling, ending up in several pieces on the floor.

The dark apparently did nothing in making you look less menacing as Steven continued to voice his fears. And loudly at that. He hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot just outside the door.

“Steven, please–” you crawled forward at a snail's pace, each movement purposely slow.

He watched you with frantic eyes, his heart hammering like a rabbit against his chest. You'd never seen him so scared.

As he clambered to his feet, you dared to inch closer, but it was the opinion of the shattered tiles beneath your feet that you weren't moving nearly fast enough. You slipped on the porcelain shards and were all but thrown in Steven's direction.

Your rack broke your fall by all but embedding the tips of each spike in the wall surrounding the door frame. You'd put your head through so much wood and plaster in the past few minutes you were beginning to sympathize with mounted deer heads.

Steven was staring now, expression boarding on mild fear and absolute confusion. Then, his eyes flicked to the broken mirror behind you, and then his reflection in the window to his right.

Marc and Jake had taken their sweet time.

Steven looked between you, the mirror and the window and then back at you. Then it visibly clicked.

“Oh, oh my gods, Y/N you, you're-” he swallowed. “-what's happening?”

“It's my time of the month.” The joke went down like a led balloon. Steven swayed on his feet.

“Steven, are you alright?”

“Yeah, sort of. No, not really.”

You craned your neck as far as your current predicament would allow for. “Are you going to pass out?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” you said the word beneath your breath. He hadn't run which, all things considered, meant this was going fairly well. Even from the awkward angle you were stuck in you could feel his eyes on you, shifting from one monstrous feature to the next, lingering on the markings and the fucking antlers and the–

“Love, you have blood– you're bleeding.” And just like that, a flip switched in Steven's mind at the sight of you wounded. This man was a true enigma and a wonderful one at that. “Here–”

He approached and then almost immediately hesitated, bouncing back on his heel the moment you shifted.

You weren't exactly a threatening sight, shoulders wedged in the door frame, covered in dust and splintered wood and head practically pinned to the wall. You looked like a drunk stag that had lost a fight to a tree.

Steven shook himself and stepped close enough that your laboured breaths ruffled his curls. He was doing an admirable job of hiding the fact that he was shaking.

“Alright, bloody hell um–” He regarded the situation and then nodded. “I'll push, you pull.”

Steven braced his hands against your shoulders and you grabbed hold of the door frame. It's not that you needed the extra help; out of all the things you'd conquered whilst serving as an avatar freeing yourself from a plaster wall ranked fairly low on that list.

But Steven was touching you in this form, his palms pressed to your broadened shoulders and you weren't about to jinx it.

The wall cracked and fissured as you freed yourself, several deep punctures left where your antlers had been. You twisted and manoeuvred your way out of the bathroom until you could straighten up to your full height.

Thank god Steven lived on the top floor. Higher ceilings.

“Okay, woah–” Steven took several steps back as you stood. You towered over him, antlers bleeding into darkened shadows against the ceiling. Okay, now 'intimidating' might be a more fitting word.

You lowered yourself to your knees in an attempt to seem less frightening. Now that you were eye to eye, Steven could see the worry in your expression as you regarded him softly.

“It's alright. I'm adjusting,” he said, voice still trembling. “Just need a quick adjustment period...”

You gave him time and let him lead.

And that's how you ended up in the kitchen, legs crossed as you sat on the floor whilst Steven sat on the counter in front of you. He held a wet flannel in his hand, droplets of water creeping down his arm.

A dry cloth sat folded on the counter beside him, as well as a box of plasters with 'good job!' written across each one.

It was as if his rationality was being overridden by his need to care for you as well as his overall steveness.

Steven dabbed the crown of your head gently, his hands shaking as he did. There was still a dull ache where the antlers had sprouted. Steven rung out the flannel over the sink and the sight of the blood running through his fingers and over his knuckles made you feel ill. His hands were always so soft, they weren't meant to be stained with blood.

You blinked as a small trail of blood seeped from your head and trailed down between your brows. Steven diligently stopped the flow with the cloth and cleaned you up. Your nose twitched at the dampness of the cloth and Steven smiled.

The first smile you'd seen all night.

His actions slowed, hand stilling as he watched you. Beneath the pale glow of your eyes there was something so familiar. He smiled again.

“Hiya love,” the words were so soft they made you feel warm.

“Hi.”

You raised your arms, the markings and symbols on your skin catching in the dim light. Your hands circled Steven's wrists gently. He pulled back and for a terrifying moment you thought he'd gone completely; deciding that he'd had enough, that you were too much like this and he was drawing the boundary line here.

Instead, he dropped the blood-stained flannel in the sink basin and held his hand back against yours, palms pressed together. It was an adorable comparison. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the top of your palm, in fact, you were certain you could close your hand over the entirety of his own. There was a moment shared in comfortable silence then Steven asked, “Y/N, what is going on?”

The question was gentle and filled with wonder. There was still a trace of a smile on his lips. It made you feel like you could finally tell him.

“Avatar stuff. I suppose my god is a little more... flamboyant than yours.”

Steven laughed and the sound comes as a relief. “Khonshu didn't want to give me the time of day, let alone a– a bloody godly alter ego.”

A beat of silence.

“Did it hurt?”

It was heartwarming that that was his next question.

“A little,” you answered somewhat honestly. “But I'm alright now.”

He finished cleaning you up in a peaceful silence. He took the time to wash the blood from your hair as best he could and plaster your injured hand, (for the emotional boost more than anything.) It took several plasters to cover the expanse of the wound, each overlapping so the supportive catchphrase now read 'good good job good.'

He sat in front of you now, having spent the last few minutes tracing the spirals and patterns on your arm. His earlier fear had completely given way to wonder; it wasn't easy to forget that the man was a mythology nerd through and through.

A boyish laugh crept past his lips. “I wonder how Marc and Jake will react.” He looked up at you to gouge a reaction and his smile fell slightly. “Oh.”

“Steven–” you scratched the back of your neck. This was going to be a bitch to explain. “-Jake only knows because... well–” you made a vague motion with your hands that the four of you had come to recognize meant 'Jake.'

Steven nodded in understanding.

“And Marc just sort of found out by accident.”

Steven nodded again and you could visibly see the process going on behind his eyes.

“And um– why didn't any of you tell me?” His voice adopted a higher pitch at the end of the question, likely in an attempt to take the edge off.

You took a sudden interest in the floorboards. “I didn't want to– you know.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Steven gasped.

“Oh, oh love, you didn't think... you didn't think I'd be scared did you?”

A quick exhale of amusement from you. “You seemed fairly scared.”

“I- well yeah, yeah.” He conceded. “But not of you. Never of you.” His hands found yours again, the staggering difference in size almost humorous. “I just wish you could have felt like you could have told me, that's all.”

A warmth settled in the centre of your chest and you felt the corner of your eyes dampen. Any attempt of yours to not cry was immediately foiled as he inched closer and put his arms around your neck. His knees buckled against your crossed legs and he sank against your chest.

“For what it's worth,” you smiled against the crown of his head. “I think your reaction probably ranks highest out of the three.”

“Yeah?” He asked lightly. His curls tickled the end of your nose.

“Yeah. Jake used some pretty colourful language, most of it was in Spanish. And Marc pulled a gun on me–”

“He pulled a gun on you–?!” With the exclamation, Steven shot back to look at you.

“Like I said, you take first place.”

“Well, the bar wasn't set awfully bloody high was it?” He glared at his reflection in the kettle and you smirked, closing your arms around him and caging him to your chest. There was something so soothing, so primally comforting about being able to hold him, hold all of him, like this.

You nuzzled against his chocolate curls and to anyone on the outside looking in the action would have looked downright primal. Animalistic. But it couldn't have felt more intimate.

“I could get used to this, I think.” Steven's words were barely above a breath. “You're just a big teddy bear, really. More of you to love.”

His hands slowly and deliberately retraced your shoulder, then your neck, down the expanse of your chest... “What do the patterns mean?”

“Some of the symbols stand for attributes or characteristics; strength, courage, loyalty,” you regarded your arm, from your bicep down to your wrist. “Some of them are his symbols, some he added when I agreed to be his avatar and others, I've never really taken the time to find out–”

Steven hummed, not in a dismissive sense, rather in a way that showed he'd listened to each word like the gospel.

“I've got a book on ruins and ancient symbols, only bought the thing for the hieroglyphics really but maybe we could have a look? Do some homework?” A playful nudge accompanied the last question and you caved. As if you stood much of a chance to begin with.

That's how you ended up laying on the bed, (well, mostly on the bed. Your back was against the headboard and your legs still hung over the edge. Steven straddled your middle, an open book and notepad to his right, a highlighter between his teeth and a marker in his hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his brows furrowed as he traced his thumb over a symbol just beneath your collarbone.

You shivered despite yourself.

He'd mapped everything out, using the marker to gently draw on your skin, making connections and jotting down notes. It was like watching a scholar at work and you were honoured to be his study.

“Sorry about the bathroom,” you said rather out of the blue.

Steven glanced up at you, rebellious curls falling against his brow. His confusion melted into gentle amusement. “Don't worry about it, love. Needed redoing anyways, I reckon.”

Then, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world, he went back to his translations.

In a form that most could only phantom in the darkest corners of their imagination and with a god willing to bend the seas and skies at your will, Steven Grant somehow remained among both the most curious and most cherished things you had.

Key ➳

Cernnunos - Celtic god of wild things, fertility and animals

Manannan - (Manannan Mac Lir) Celtic god of the sea

Imbolc - the Celtic festival that marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It celebrates the return of life and light as it is the time when the ewes come into milk, when the first flowers appear and when the day noticeably lengthens.

Newgrange - famous 5,200 year old passage tomb in Co Meath, Ireland

‘fia beag’ - gaeilge for ‘little deer’

thank you for reading!

tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

#mary on a cross “you're beauty never ever scared me” vibes >>>#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight imagine #steven grant imagine #steven grant x y/n #steven grant #moon knight #☘️#one day I'll stop making all my stories have irish themes #but not today

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wonwoosthetic · 2 years ago

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Hii!! I hope you're having a great day, I've been loving your pre-outbreak!joel fics (especially the way you write the Millers omg). On that note, could you write something fluffy about reader having a sick day?? And Joel and Sarah just taking turns watching over her. Thank you so much!! 🫶

A Day Off

warnings – flue, sickness, mentions of dizziness, medication, but mostly cute Miller fluff

word count – 6.2k

a/n – I decided to make it part of my “Couldn’t Love More” series, I hope that’s okay ˙ᵕ˙ Thank you for the request, I hope you like how it turned out!! And I hope you have the best day possible🫶🏼🫶🏼

2004

"Is mom okay?" The soft voice of Sarah rang through Joel's ear as he was preparing his usual morning cup of coffee.

While the two Millers were already downstairs, the little girl munching on some cereal and the oldest of the family standing in the kitchen with his favourite mug in his hand, you had run back up upstairs, having forgotten to put on deodorant for the long day of work ahead of you.

With scrunched eyebrows, Joel turned to his daughter, "What do you mean? Because of her cough?"

The evening before, you seemed to be doing perfectly fine, but almost as soon as that clock hit midnight, you couldn't lay still next to your partner anymore. All throughout last night, up until that morning, you had been coughing your lungs out, along with a runny nose that didn't seem to be getting any better.

Sarah nodded, "It doesn't sound good." The cereal still filling her mouth.

"Don't speak with food in your mouth," her father warned her, using that typical dad voice the girl has had to listen to all her life.

She swallowed. "I said it doesn't sound good."

"I heard what you said," Joel brought his cup of coffee to the dining table, taking a seat right next to the youngest Miller, along with a hot cup of tea he had prepared for you. "I asked her, and she said it's all fine."

His statement earned him an unamused facial expression. "And we both know that's not true."

He nodded with a sigh, "I know, but what do you want me to do? You know how stubborn she is."

"She's not!" She argued back. Joel closed his eyes for a second. Right. Don't tell the girl, who definitely got the stubbornness from his wife, that his wife is stubborn. How could he forget...

"Alright, but still. She won't listen to me. I already told her to stay at home."

Sarah scoffed, "And that's it? When I'm sick, you two don't even let me fight back. You basically lock me into my room."

"We don't lo-"

"Mum?" He was interrupted by you coming back down, catching the girl's attention.

You hummed in response, followed by a cough as you tucked the blouse tighter into your pants.

"Why don't you just stay at home today?" She wondered, to which you sent her a look of confusion, directing it towards Joel for a split second.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Sarah got up, the bowl in her hand when she passed you, only stopping to point a strict finger at you. "You're sick. That's what's wrong." Before continuing her walk to the dishwasher. "You should stay home."

You chuckled as you sat down next to your husband, whose hand found its way right to your back, brushing over it gently, motioning towards the cup of tea waiting for you. "It's just a little cold. If even," you blew on the hot water, hoping to lower the temperature. "Might also just be the result of someone at work thinking it's necessary to blast winter temperatures through the A/C."

Joel's fingers started running through your hair, detangling the small strands your brush had missed.

"Still," Sarah didn't stop arguing. "Sick is sick, and you should stay home." But you just shook your head with a smile. Another cough followed that you were able to hide into the inside of your elbow.

"See." The girl passed you with a knowing glance as she walked up the stairs into her room to get her backpack.

"You sure, you'll be fine?" Your husband's eyes were still on your side profile, sending you a warm smile once you turned to face him.

You placed your free hand on his thigh and gave it an assuring soft squeeze. "Yep," you nodded, "I'll be fine, don't worry." Just as you leaned in to give him a quick kiss, he dodged out of the way. You gasped, gazing at him with your mouth hung open.

"You heard her," nodding towards the stairs where your daughter was just coming back. "Sick is sick. And I'm not risking that."

"Wow...," you gasped, "Unbelievable. Not even a kiss?" Joel shook his head. A devilish thought crossed your mind, getting the corners of your lips to curl up. "What do you think about a stepdad, Sarah?" Making the girl immediately look at you in confusion. "Someone that would kiss me, even if I actually was sick." The man next to you rolled his eyes. The hunk of a horn coming from the garage let you know that the younger Miller brother had arrived. "Someone younger, hotter, more-" The gentle tug of your hair cut you off, making you grin as soon as you felt the familiar hot breath next to your ear. Thank God, Sarah had gone into the hallway to get her jean jacket.

"Careful, darlin'," his low vibrations tickled the side of your neck before you could feel his lips on your skin.

"Well," you shrugged, "I'm sure there's someone out there that would still kiss me even with a stuffy nose."

He had started petting your hair again. "Keep searching darlin', and the moment you find that someone will be the day I have my first kill."

"Joel!" You shot up straighter in your seat, turning your entire body towards him with a shock written all over your face - yet, a smile was still on your lips. The oldest Miller was in no way a violent person, that much you knew. But, when it came to family, you also knew that there was nothing he wouldn't do. Not a single thing.

He shrugged a proud grin plastered on his face when your hand came up to push his cheek, mimicking a gentle slap followed by a chuckle.

Sarah passed you two again when a second hunk echoed through the room. "I'm going," she rushed to stand between you two, engulfing you in a big bug, "Love you!" Getting the same words of affirmation in return. She made her way to the door before stopping, "Oh, and mum!"

Making you look up while Joel's gaze was still fixed on you, wondering how even with a stuffy nose and a cough that could scare away every kid, he was still as attracted to you as when he first saw you in that tight party dress you had worn.

"Let me know how that search for a stepdad is going!" Giggling at the reaction of her father.

"Excuse me?!"

While you laughed out loud, your hand falling back onto his thigh. Your laugh didn't last long, interrupted by another wave of coughing, that you tried to calm down with a sip of your tea.

Joel stood up and tapped your head, "That's what you get for saying shit like that."

The lunch break was almost over, and each employee was putting their helmets back on, throwing their one-way coffee cups into the bins, ready to get back to work. The contractor was still sitting on one of the benches, looking over their final plan for the building behind him, the hot temperature of his beverage long gone, now ice cold. Tommy hadn't joined him as usual, but it wasn't all that new to Joel. Sometimes his brother tended to disappear during his break, coming back only barely on time and usually with his belt missing - no questions needed, everyone knew where he had been.

Just as the oldest Miller brother lifted his head, he squinted his eyes, for one due to the sun, but also to make out the silhouette of the younger brother as he run up to him. Unamused, Joel took a quick glance at his watch,

"Three... two... one... and you're late." He glanced back up at the now panting man, who was holding onto the wooden table.

"Late?!" Tommy exclaimed, "I literally just got back in time."

Joel shook his head, "You haven't clocked in yet," packing his stuff back up as he got up from his seat.

"Jeez, come on, man! Can you cut me some slack?"

He stopped in his tracks to turn back around, shoving the A3 piece of paper into the younger Miller's chest, "I've cut you some freaking slack often enough, Tommy. This shit's gotta stop."

"I just-"

"No," Joel shook his head, "No excuses. I've told you this before. We've got a tight schedule. There's no time for your stupid little acquaintances."

Tommy sighed, still giving no signs of moving while his brother was already a few feet away.

"Have you checked in on your wife?" He shouted out loud, making the older man stop again, glaring at him in confusion.

"What? Why?" It was unusual for either of you to contact the other one during your workday. You much rather enjoy the evening together, ranting about your coworkers and employees in the comfort of each other's arms rather than over the terrible connection through your phones.

With a proud grin, Tommy walked up to him, his hands secured in his pockets. "Well, that's where my acquaintances actually come in handy."

"What the fuck you talkin' about?" Joel was on the verge of his patience with his younger brother, more specifically with that massive ego of his.

"You know that blonde one from Y/N's office?" The younger brother questioned with a smirk, ignoring the glare of the other man. "Tall, blonde, green eyes, usually in those tiny skirts, and Jeez... those big lips that just look magnificent around my-"

"Tommy," he stopped him with a raise of his hands, "Get to the point. For God's sake...," mumbling the last part as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right, right, sorry," the younger one snapped back into it, "When I went to see her, she told me that Y/N was sent back home because she almost blacked out at the-"

"What?!" Joel raised his voice as soon as the words rang through his ears.

Tommy crossed his arms with a deep breath, "Yeah, apparently she wasn't feeling well, but stubborn as fuck and wouldn't go home until her boss came."

"Jesus fuck..." without wasting another second, the oldest Miller snatched his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. "And you couldn't have gotten to the fucking point sooner." His fingers moved quickly, ignoring whatever Tommy was talking about in the background, as he clicked around hastily to call your number.

His grip on the rolled-up paper tightened while a sigh fell from his lips, dropping the phone again, "Of course, she won't pick up..."

Within a second, he pushed the floorplan into his brother's grip and took his helmet off the decorate Tommy's head with it instead, "Congrats," he patted his shoulder, "You just got promoted for the day."

"Wh-"

"I'll be back in a bit. I'm gonna go check on her," he was already brushing past the younger Miller, jogging towards his car, "You keep everyone else in check in the meantime!"

"I got ya!" Tommy shouted back at him, "Make sure she's okay!" Before Joel disappeared in the parking lot after sending him a last thumbs up.

The entire car ride was filled with heavy breaths leaving the older man's lips, curse word after curse word echoing through the small space - Sarah's curse jar would've gotten filled to the brim if she had been there to hear him.

He knew it wasn't a good idea to let you go to work today. No matter how stubborn could get, he deeply regretted not starting a possible discussion to keep you home. Now he had to rush back home in hopes of finding you there still on your feet, while his heart was daring to break through his ribs and chest. Never before had the drive to your shared house felt so damn long, even though he was sure to have broken multiple laws.

You insisting on not getting a car was making his anger bubble up just a tad more. You had told him that Tommy and he each having one was enough, and that you were more than happy using the public transport. Joel had given into that way too quickly. Your sweet voice tended to have that effect on him. But now, knowing that you had to take the bus after almost blacking out-

He didn't even want to think about that. Please let that blonde co-worker of yours have lied to Tommy. Or maybe she just heard a rumour going around the office - that shit travelled quicker than lightspeed according to your tellings.

Before his thinking could make his brain explode, he pulled into the driveway, leaving the car outside of the garage and sprinted to the door. He, once again, found it unlocked, making him almost shake his head - how was their daughter ever supposed to learn to lock the door when even you, her biggest role model at the time wasn't doing it. But that was a conversation for another time.

Once he busted through the front door, his eyes scanned the living room hastily. You not appearing right then and there just sent another wave of anxiety through his body. Joel continued to look for you in the kitchen. Still not here. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. That's when he heard a thud coming from upstairs. He didn't waste another moment and raced up the set of stairs.

"Darlin'?" He called out for you. Before he could reach the top, your head popped out from the doorway leading to your shared room. A breath of relief washed over him.

You glanced at him in confusion, "What the hell are you doing here?" Joel ignored your question, coming up to stop in front of you, gently getting a hold of your jaw to get a good look at your face.

"Joel-" you swatted his hand away, "Wh-"

"Why didn't you call me?"

"What?"

Another sigh tumbled from his lips as he walked back downstairs after making sure you didn't hurt yourself on the way home. He still noticed your red nose and the slight scratch in your voice, so he was already planning on making you a second cup of tea.

"Why didn't you call me?" Joel repeated the question while moving through the kitchen to get everything he needed.

You followed him into the dining space, tightening the sweatpants you had put on after taking a shower as soon as you had arrived home. "Why call you? And what are you doing here?" Followed by a cough.

"Call me?!" He turned his entire body to look at you, "Maybe because you blacked out at work?!" He didn't dare to raise his voice much, just making sure the tone was enough to let you know how serious he was about this subject.

"W-...," you shifted on your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. "How do you know about that?"

The oldest Miller took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, "Your co-worker called Tommy. Sweeth-"

"How does my co-worker know Tommy?"

"It doesn't matt-"

"Yes, it does!" You argued back, now standing in the kitchen with him, your back resting against the counter.

One look from your husband was enough to tell you everything you needed to know.

You sent him an unamused facial expression. "No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does," he nodded gently, pouring the hot water into the mug he had prepared for you.

"Joel-"

"It's not import-"

"It is to me!"

"What do you want me to do about it?" He wondered, placing the cup of tea right next to you.

You shrugged, "I don't know... Castrate him."

A chuckle fell from his lips followed by a sigh, looking up at the ceiling with his eyes closed before his gaze stopped on you again. He couldn't stay mad at you for long when you looked at him with those kind eyes and that little smile you were trying to hide.

"Why didn't you call me?" He brushed your wet hair away from your face, securing it behind your ear, his voice now back to the gentle tone you're used to.

"There was no reason to."

"You almost blacked-"

"I didn't," you interrupted him, "I got dizzy. I didn't black out. And before anything could happen, my boss sent me home. Nothing bad happened."

"But it could've," he reasoned.

"But it didn't." Your statement wasn't enough to convince him.

"Are we gonna fight about that now?"

You smirked, "Not if you just drop it and believe me. Instead of that desperate housewife of a co-worker, I have."

Joel closed his eyes for a quick second before nodding towards the mug on the counter beside you. "Drink your tea."

With a smile still plastered on your face, you opened your arms and took a step forward to wrap your arms around his torso. Not even a second passed before your husband engulfed you in a hug, his rough hand holding the back of your head close to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," lifting your head to catch his eyes, "I didn't mean to."

He glanced down at you, cupping your face in his palms, his thumbs tracing invisible lines of your cheeks. "I told you to stay home today."

"You did," you admitted.

"And Sarah said so too."

"Yep, she also did that."

"So you're gonna listen to us from now on?"

You put your thinking face on, pressing your lips into a thin line. "I'll think about it."

Joel shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead, mumbling against it, "You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'. Don't scare me like that again."

You chuckled, tightening your arms around him, "I'm sorry. I won't." Placing a loving peck on his chest once he let his arms wrap around you again. "I love you."

"I love you too," he declared like he always did, giving the top of your head another kiss.

A few seconds passed before you felt a soft pat on your butt and Joel freeing himself from your embrace, reaching behind you to place the mug into your hands.

"What do you need from the pharmacy?"

You lifted your shoulders, moving to sit at the dining table, "I don't know. Nothing, I think. It's just a cold, it'll go away."

"Darlin'," Joel's eyes didn't leave your form, "My throat hurts listenin' to you talk."

"Wow," you lifted your head to glare at him with an open mouth, "You really know how to compliment a woman, don't ya?"

He smirked, "I thought that's why you married me."

"Among other things, sure," you copied his facial expression as he got closer to you again to place the back of his hand on your forehead.

"Did you check your temperature?"

You shook your head, "Not yet, I took a shower right when I got here."

"Alright," he grunted, getting his phone out of his back pocket to check for any missed messages, "I'll go see what the pharmacy has and get a few things from the store for soup."

"Joel, I'll be fine just resting-"

"Do you want me to drag you to the doctor's office?" That question made you shut your mouth tightly. He knew how much you hated doctors and hospitals - that bastard used your weaknesses against you. He earned himself a glare from you.

"I'll take anything the pharmacy gives you."

The corners of his lips curled into a proud grin as he lowered his head to peck the top of your hair once again. "That's my girl." In the next moment, he was out the door, and you heard the roar of his engine.

Joel didn't cook rarely. Every now and then, you'd get the gift of his cooking - well... the gift of watching him cook since the food itself usually turned out... alright. Eyeing him in such a domestic scene was much more of what you'd be thankful for. But now, you didn't even get to enjoy the sight of him in the kitchen, thanks to him forcing you to stay on the couch, the TV being your only form of entertainment.

"Joel!" You cried out loud, "Please let me help!" Almost begging him since you knew, you'd eventually have to eat whatever he was putting together in the other room.

"Don't you even dare get up from there!" He shouted back before the clanking of pots and pans hurt your head, only motivating the headache that had started an hour ago.

"But-"

"No discussion!" You rolled your eyes. Normally, Sarah was in your position, and you or Joel would be in the kitchen, telling her the exact same thing. With you now right there, you were starting to understand the frustration of the little girl.

"I'm ill! I'm not dying!"

You heard his heavy footsteps before your eyes fell on his body stopping in the doorway, a kitchen towel in his grip. "Don't say stuff like that. And drink that," he motioned towards the medicine he had mixed up for you before disappearing again. You didn't even want to look at that glass. The colour that fluid had, looked toxic and like it shouldn't be consumed by a human. It smelled just like that as well.

"But it stinks!"

"You know, you're starting to sound like Sarah?" Making you roll your eyes. You were a big girl. You could do this.

With disgust written all over your face, you reached for the glass and without much more debating, knowing you'd back out of it, you chucked the whole thing in one big gulp. Noises of repulsion immediately left your lips that you clearly faked yet couldn't hold back.

Joel entered the room, a bowl in one hand, and a mug in the other.

"You're being dramatic," he commented on your actions, setting everything down on the coffee table in front of you.

"Maybe," you groaned, "But this shit is revolting."

"It'll help you get better."

"I sure hope so," you scoffed, leaning forward to get a hold of the mug.

He took a seat next to you, the pills he had bought for you now in his hand, out of their packages. He handed them to you, to which you grimaced. You hated swallowing pills.

"Take them," he rolled his eyes.

"You know, my mom doesn't believe in pills." She was a very spiritual person.

Joel took a deep breath, "I know. I talked to her about it."

"Oooh, yeah!" You laughed out loud, slapping his upper arm as the memory of their discussion at your wedding came back to you. Sarah was recovering from a cold she had, and while your mother was talking Joel's ear off about herbs and oils that would help, he stood his ground on his opinion about trusting whatever medicine she had been described - your mother did not agree with that.

He shoved his hand closer to you. "Just because your mother doesn't like them, doesn't mean you don't, right?"

You shrugged to answer him.

"You want me to grind them for you? Put them under some food?"

"No, no," you snatched the pills out of the palm of his outstretched hand - your other hand got a hold of the mug. One pill after the other, you threw it down your throat, a shiver going down your spine after each. Joel watched you grimace in amusement, his hand running down the back of your head with a smile.

"Good girl," he kissed your cheek, which earned him a death glare from you. His eyes widened, "What?"

"You know what that does to me, and you won't even kiss me!" You whined, throwing yourself back against the backrest of the sofa, a cough following.

A laugh erupted from your husband as his hand landed on your thigh, rubbing and squeezing it gently. You tried pushing it away, but that only entertained him more.

"Take your medicine and I'll kiss you all that much more once you get better," he grinned, placing multiple pecks on the side of your head and pulling you into his chest.

"Is that a promise?" You teased, feeling him shake from chuckling.

"That's a vow."

"Darlin'."

You felt a soft shake against your shoulder and fingertips tracing your face.

"Darlin'."

A groan came from you in response as you opened your eyes, making realise you must have fallen asleep earlier. Your eyes danced around the room - you were still on the couch in the living room. They landed on the body hovering above you. Joel smiled as your gazes met.

"I gotta go back to check on Tommy and the guys, but Sarah's here now. She'll take care of you until I come back."

You shook your head and scrunched your eyebrows, "No, what about school?"

"She just got back."

"And homework? Friends?" You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, "I'm sure looking after an adult is the last thing she'd want to do-"

"No, don't worry-"

"I want to look after you, mum!" Sarah interrupted her father, skipping into the living room, with another mug in her hands. You were starting to get tired of seeing them.

You smiled at your daughter, "That's very nice of you, Sweetie. But it's so pretty outside, don't you want to go do something?"

"Not if I know you're here sick," she quickly answered before exiting the living room again.

Joel watched her leave, a proud look on his face as he turned his attention back to you.

"She's too kind for her own good," you commented.

"I wonder who she got that from," he smiled, caressing your cheek with his fingers, making you roll your eyes. Joel crouched down to be on eye-level with you, lowering his voice as well, his fingers not leaving your skin. "You wanna go upstairs? I think the bed might be a bit more comfortable."

You nodded while he straightened his back, standing back up on his two feet.

He nudged his head, "Come one." Reaching out his hand for you to take, but you had a different idea. You shook your head with a pout and opened your arms. Joel chuckled with a shake of his head. He could've expected that. Your husband didn't need to be told twice before leaning down, pulling the blanket off you and moving one arm underneath your knees with his other wrapping around your back to cup you up.

He couldn't help but let a quiet groan fall from his lips as he moved back up. With a chuckle, you slapped his chest,

"Come on, old man." A grin spread on his face, followed by pretending to let you fall, making you screech and wrap your hands tight behind his neck, "Joel!"

"Call me old again, and I'll drop you for real, sweetheart."

He felt your loving eyes on him as he carefully took step after step, carrying you safely upstairs.

"You wouldn't do that." Poking his chest to tease him.

You're right. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He would never drop you. You were safe with him. For now and forever.

Only moments after Joel left you alone in the bedroom, another pair of feet echoed through the upstairs hallway. Sarah appeared in the doorway, a beautiful smile decorating her face while holding tightly onto a bowl.

"Dad said you fell asleep before you could eat, so I heated it up again." She got closer to the bed, placing the dish on the nightstand to your right.

"You didn't have to do that," you pushed yourself to sit up on the bed, "But thank you."

"Wait for me," she quickly told you before rushing out of the room, leaving you for about a minute before coming back, another bowl and a book in her grip.

"You're eating your dad's cooking?" You jokingly wondered as she made herself comfortable on the other side of the bed.

"I'm very brave, I know." Her answer made both of you chuckle in chorus. Jokes about Joel's cooking would never get old.

With the two of you holding onto your bowls, you went in first to get a taste of what you had expected to be the most tasteless watery substance you could imagine. You were surprised by multiple layers of flavours. Sarah hummed in agreement.

"Oh wow," you commented.

The little girl nodded, "Not bad, dad. Not bad."

"Not bad indeed. I was ready for something else."

"I was ready to run to the bathroom and spit it out," Sarah stated, making you laugh.

You fell into a comfortable conversation, asking her about her day and what she was up to later in the day, only to get "obviously, looking after you. Just because dad can cook all of a sudden, doesn't mean he won't need my help," in response.

The girl had her way with words.

After you finished cleaning out the bowls, Sarah brought them back downstairs, only to join you in the bed again minutes later. Before she made herself comfortable again, she made sure you'd have tissues, a glass of water, and some pills Joel told her to keep close, right on the nightstand.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow or-"

"I'm perfectly fine, Sarah," you patted her hand as she laid down next to you.

"Alright, but tell me if you need anything."

You nodded with a chuckle, "I will."

After closing your eyes, you could feel her moving and rustling as she reached out to get something.

"I have to read this book for school. Can I read it out loud to you?" She wondered, placing it in her lap, glancing to the side to see your eyes looking up at her.

"Of course, sweetie." You pulled the covers tighter around your body, ready to listen to her soft voice. "What book are you reading?"

"Sweet Valley High," she told you with a deep sigh, opening the book on the page she had left it.

"You don't sound fond of it," her clear annoyance made you want to smile. You knew exactly why she probably didn't enjoy the piece of literature her teacher had assigned them to read.

"Because I'm not," she stated with a scoff. "This is ridiculous. It's a terrible book with a terrible plot."

"It can't be that bad if it's school literature, sweetie." You tried to explain, hoping to give her a sense of understanding, even though you could imagine how annoyed she must feel.

"But it is!" She whined, "Our teacher probably only gave us to read that because more than half of the class are girls. Ridiculous..."

Before she could even read the first word on the page, she closed the book again. "Can I please read one of yours?" That question wasn't unfamiliar to you. It happened more than you'd like to admit - a 14-year-old asking for books of yours because she found the literature for her age 'boring and all the same' and had even called some authors 'possible illiterates, as well as the teachers for assigning such books'. In reality, she was just unchallenged, and you were more than happy to help with that. But you still had to remember your role as an adult and, more importantly, her mother.

"But you have to read this book, Sarah."

"And I'll get to that once I have the patience," she got up from the bed. "I promise. But right now... I need to read something better than some girl's high school drama." And disappeared, not waiting for an answer from you.

Once she was back, you were already half asleep, but still noticed it when she found her way back next to you, humming in happiness as she made herself comfortable.

Before sleep took over you completely, you heard the first words fall from her lips, "Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents-"

You smiled to yourself. She chose Little Women, one of your favourites.

The moving covers and rustling made you open your eyes again. You were still laying on your right side, in the same position you had fallen asleep in. The only difference now was, Sarah wasn't next to you anymore. Instead, she got replaced by her father, who was not so subtly, trying to get into bed without waking you.

Joel found your eyes trained on him, making him immediately stop, the bed sheets in his hand up in the air, "Sorry, darlin', I didn't want to wake ya."

"It's okay," you mumbled, moving closer to him as soon as he got under the covers, "You were never smooth or quiet at moving around anyways, Miller." Your legs interlocked with his, making sure you were as close to him as you could be. You had spent enough time apart, now was your time to enjoy having him right there next to you.

He chuckled at your confession, "I'm sorry." Once you were cuddled up to his side, he lifted his arm to wrap around you and place your head on his chest, but that was interrupted with a groan as he pulled something up from underneath him.

"Was Sarah readin' this?"

You opened your eyes and nodded, the soft smile back on your lips.

"Why on earth is she readin' a book from the last century?" He always remembered the little details you told him about the books and authors you loved.

"The more important question is why aren't you reading books from the last century," you poked his chest. Joel placed it on the nightstand and grabbed your hand into his bigger one, warming it up with the natural heat of his palm.

"You're right, I shouldn't have asked," he quickly commented before changing the subject. "How are you feelin'?"

"Better... I think," a yawn escaped from your throat, followed by a soft cough, "I slept pretty much the entire afternoon."

"That's good," his hand found your back, rubbing it in a comforting way. "You're supposed to sleep a lot."

You nodded. "How was work? Did the guys behave?"

"Yeah," he grinned, "Mostly. Tommy says sorry for sleeping with your co-worker, but also, and I quote, 'The ladies want, what the ladies want. And who am I to deny them of that'."

A moan in disgust erupted from you, "Oh god... He's disgusting." You both chuckled.

A few seconds of silence were shared with Joel's hand running up and down your body before he spoke again.

"You ate the soup?"

"Yeah, Sarah heated it up for me. And she also had a bowl." You lifted your head to look at him, "And we must admit, you did surprisingly well."

"What do you mean surprisingly?" He sounded genuinely curious about your answer as he glared down at you. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know... but you know..."

"What do I know?"

"You're not the best cook, Joel," you admitted with a gentle smile, "So we were prepared for the worst."

"The worst?" He scoffed, "You two are unbelievable," and turned his head away from you, making you giggle.

"Joel," you whined, but the grin didn't leave your face, "Come on," you sat up straighter to cup his cheeks and turn his head to face you. But that man had his eyes closed. "Look at me." He shook his head. "Look at me, Joel."

"I'm not looking at you until you apologize."

"Are you serious?" You tried to contain your laughter as well as you possibly could, remembering that a girl was sleeping across the small hallway from you. "You know your talent isn't in cooking, handsome." Your fingers brushed through his hair as you caught him finally looking at you again.

"I actually didn't know that I was such a bad man in the kitchen, but thank you for the critique, I guess," he tried to keep the annoyed facial expression, but it was cut off by your synced laughter echoing through the room. He damn well knew about it. Sarah never let him hear the end of it. He will forever be 'an okay cook and a terrible baker'.

The sounds coming from you died down the moment your gazes met again, your fingers tracing his jaw.

"Would a kiss be apology enough?"

His face scrunched up, "With all of that bacteria still in your body?" You tried. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed yourself away from him, ready to turn around and go back to sleep, but his grip on your wrists stopped you. Joel pulled you in again, his lips hovering less than an inch above yours.

"I couldn't ask for a better apology," he whispered, making you grin. You won. There was no way that man could go more than a day without stealing a kiss from you, and that's just what you wanted.

With that smirk still plastered on your face, you tilted your head up to finally meet the soft touch of his lips, pressing yours against his mouth. You would be ready to care for him once that man flu hit him, and you knew you would have Sarah right there with you as well.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#joel miller #pedro pascal #x reader #one shot #imagine #imagines #series #the last of us #pre!outbreak #tlou #hbo #fluff

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risingsoleil · 2 months ago

Note

We already know how AU Tenzin reacts when he sees Lin in the acolyte robes BUT how does TLOK Tenzin will react if his Lin ended up somehow wearing the acolyte robes! (Pema will get insecure with this i feel that in my heart)

For some reason, LIn's home is destroyed and Tenzin immediately takes Lin in.

She's resisted, but Tenzin's insisted.

After all, they're lifelong friends and his family deeply respects Lin for her sacrifice when Amon chased after them.

Since Tenzin just took her in without thinking, Lin has nothing on her. No clothes, no toiletries, etc. Tenzin says they can provide her with anything she needs, until she goes back into town to buy stuff.

He's in the kitchen, getting a glass of water. It feels so different, yet nice to have Lin on the island. The children are always excited to spend time with her, even if Lin is still a bit uncomfortable with kids. Plus, all the other times Lin has been on the island, she hasn't slept there. Simply visited.

But for an indefnite period of time, Lin will be living with them.

Memories of their youth and lives together flash across his mind. All the times they'd sneak off to make out, sparring, watching sunsets and sunrises (with Lin sleepily sitting next to him). It felt like lifetimes ago, but also as if those days were yesterday.

The door slides open and he notices it's acolyte robes.

"Ah, if you're lost, then the dormitories are...."

His mouth dries and all the words are knocked out of his lungs. The cup almost drops from his hand and breaks on the wooden floor.

There stood Lin. In acolyte robes.

A different wave of memories washed over him, which left his body rapidly heated and blood spiralling in a specific direction.

The last he saw Lin in acolyte robes was decades ago. perhaps when they were in their early 20s. Spirits, the only thing he can remember was that they had passionate nonstop sex anytime she wore it.

he swallowed and walked behind the counter to hide his trousers.

It seems his body remembers very vividly also.

Lin's hair is damp, the wavy curls mostly straight. She raised a brow at his speechless expression.

"What? I look that bad?"

He shook his head. "No, not at all." Tenzin cleared his throat. "You, you look absolutely radiant."

Lin made a face. "I look like I haven't slept for two weeks. Be real, Tenzin."

"I'm serious. You look..." Stunning. Beautiful. Ravishing. Seductive. Divine. The most beautiful woman in the world. Glamorous. "Great."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Red is not my color."

"I always thought so. Especially Air Nation red."

In that moment, a familiar inkling rears its head in Lin. She stiffens and averts her eyes to the ground. "Look, I'm just here for a glass of water. Then I'm going to bed."

Tenzin grabs the pitcher and retrieves a glass. "Allow me."

Lin remains in her spot as the water fills halfway to the brim. Only when Tenzin is done does she approach the counter. Just as she's about to grab it, Tenzin pushes it gently toward her and their hands brush together.

A surge of electricity runs up their veins, demanding that they don't separate. Lin feels her heartbeat escalate. Tenzin feels his face turn red. Not wishing to make things awkward, Lin pulls away with the glass in hand.

Regret and disappointment spins in their heads at the loss of touch. This shouldn't be happening. He's married and they're no longer partners.

"Thanks," Lin coughs, turning on her heels to walk away. "Well, good night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait."

To his relief, Lin stops and turns.

Tenzin sucks in a breath. "Let me dry your hair."

"No need."

"Really. It'll be quick."

"You don't have to, Tenzin. It'll dry on its own."

"But the evenings are getting colder. I don't want you getting sick."

Lin crosses her arms and sighs. "Fine. Hurry up."

He walks over to her until he's within her personal space. The simple fragrance of herbal soap fills his senses. Noticing that her robe is partially covering her chest, if he stepped even closer and looked down, he probably would catch a glimpse of her cleavage and get lost in them. As he has many times in the past.

Tenzin waves his hand in small circular motions and gentle spirals of wind surround Lin's hair. Within a minute, straight damp hair has become soft, fluffy loose curls.

This was such a simple luxury that he had decades ago. And now he felt himself yearning to do it over and over again. Day after day. A task he would never grow tired of. How could he have forgotten how simple, yet loving this was?

He smiles at her. "There. Was that so hard?"

Lin pushes the strands of hair behind her ear. "You didn't have to stand so close," she says softly.

"I just--"

"Thanks, Tenz. Good night. Sleep well, okay?" She smiles weakly and walks away before he can say anything else.

As the door closes again, leaving the airbender alone, he finds himself with a pain in his heart.

"Good night, Lin."

#lin beifong #tenzin #tlok #post canon #linzin

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allovertheplace-writing · 3 months ago

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Hi, thank u for ur reply and I'm glad to hear ur doing well. I will send in my request again if u wish to write it although I don't remember it exactly. I think it was about a fem reader with hanahaki disease who is in love with kazuha but feels unworthy of him and she thinks she doesn't stand a chance with him because she isn't beautiful or smart and there are better options who are interested in him as well. Regardless she is happy and grateful she got to meet him and be part of his life even tho it leaves her with so much pain and suffering. Also she hides her disease from kazuha. I think it went something like this?? And sorry about the dumb request u don't have to write it, I remember I was going through a rough patch which is why I submitted such an angsty request in the first place. Btw if u choose to do this I'll leave it up to u if kazuha reciprocates her feelings. Thank u in advance and have a lovely day.

Genshin Impact

Character(s): Kazuha

Genre: Angst + Comfort

Type: Headcanon + Small Drabble

Description: Life becomes desolate when one finds themselves alone.

Warnings/Notes: Gender-Neutral Reader(gender did not matter for this), Death(implied + mentioned yet doesn't occur), Inability to Breathe(mentioned + described)

your request isn't dumb at all and i'm happy to write it, anon <33 thank you for sending it in again, i hope you like it!

At first, it was a mere ache. A subtle, dull pain that pulled at your heart. It was something you easily wrote off as longing at first, but, as time passed, you realized it was your lungs. A squeeze and a brush...you could still write it off as another thing if you truly tried. Excitement or anguish, perhaps even just simple joy. But it was painful, almost unbearably so.

As if air could barely make it in or out, your sarcophagus felt clogged - tight with whatever couldn't make it out. You could still breathe, though, so you carried on. Perhaps a little silly of you, but it wasn't...terribly concerning. It could just be allergies.

It was difficult to watch him smile and laugh with someone that wasn't you. Seeing that gleam in his eyes directed at another being more than enough to inflict you with hurt. He began to notice that here and there.

The way you grew distant whilst hanging out. The way you cleared and rubbed at your throat. You remember him giving you a cough drop once when it got bad. His gentle voice suggesting that you should take it easy and rest up.

The first petal happened that day.

It was ticklish and uncomfortable, but there was a sense of relief once it was out. You had looked upon it and...threw it away immediately. In your mind you had already known what was happening, but simply wished to ignore it. Maybe even pretend it wasn't happening at all.

Ignore it. Ignore it and carry on. Feelings can shift and change like a water's tide and everything will soon cease.

...in a way, it was easier than continuing to think about him and how far away he feels. Than to keep acknowledging how good he looks with someone else.

It didn't turn out so well after a week.

There were more petals- one even being half a flower at one point. You didn't even think about him all that much, but it just kept getting worse and worse.

He found you a few days after that, worried and wondering why you've disappeared. Despite the lack of contact, he has a hunch...one that he desperately hopes isn't true.

The knock on your door turns into the turning of it's knob.

He freezes as soon as his eyes land upon you, a panicked chill running down his spine. His mind is scrambling despite his careful movements.

There's so many flowers—too many flowers. But you're still here. You aren't gone.

It'll be okay.

He won't lose you too.

"..y/n- hey, hey, hey," You feel the way he comes closer, his body heat joining just beside yours. "You'll be okay.." It sounds like he's reassuring himself rather than you. His hands find your face, palms gently cupping your cheeks and fingers lightly brushing against your ears. There were many thoughts crashing through his mind.

Why is it this bad?

Who in your life caused it?

His mind stills.

Who else but him?

With quickened breaths, he moves a little and shifts himself in front of you—knees just barely brushing against your own. He wants to say something—anything, but knows he lacks the words.

You feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, his soft hair gliding across your skin. He's pensive, unsure how to get you out of this alive. What words would be the best? Those of comfort or from his heart? His arms squeeze you a little tighter before lightening up, fingers lightly digging into your clothes.

"Go- don't...don't go." Dwelling on his own emotions, he manages to form segments of sentences and wastes no time in saying them. It'll be jumbled, but there's rarely a need for flowery words when one's love is dying.

"I love you."

#♡ - Rosie writes!#writing #x reader #headcanons #drabble #hcs #x gn reader #hurt/comfort #angst #genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #gi x reader #gi kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #scenarios #hanaki disease

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lolhex12 · 1 year ago

Text

we don't talk enough abt akutagawa's cough / lung disease (chronic&terminal) yet it has so much angst potential?? anywayy

after the current arc, atsushi knows akutagawa is actively dying and he's the only one who does bc akutagawa didn't tell anyone else abt it. (altho, in all honesty, the amount this man coughs should at least hint at it. i'm honestly amazed not more ppl in the story are concerned abt it)

so, the next mission they have together, akutagawa coughs and atsushi is now aware what it really means, so he wonders out loud with nonchalance masking his concern: "hey, so like, do you think yosano's ability would help with your cough and all? would it go away then?"

akutagawa, wiping his mouth, slightly annoyed: "how would i now? i'm not well-acquainted with your coworkers, weretiger, therefore it's none of my concern. and even then, i wouldn't trust any ada members with my issues, nor my life."

atsushi finds his words a bit sus bc 'u do trust me tho', but doesn't say it out loud and they leave it at that.

somehow, it becomes a regular thing. every time they have a mission together and atsushi hears his partner cough, he presents more ideas of how they could cure a terminal lung disease, and they vary in absurdity as he runs out of inspiration.

his ideas range from mere "have you tried going to a doctor?" (<- at which akutagawa stares in disbelief: "you either think i'm an idiot, or you are the idiot. which one is it?" and atsushi pouts bc 'ok yeah, fair... but also, rude') to insanities like "maybe witchcraft would help! i could look up witches in the area and see if black magic or something has any luck." (<- at which akutagawa is so done he doesn't even entertain the idea and just keeps walking)

they never follow through with any idea tho, bc akutagawa stubbornly refuses to waste time on trying to find a cure when his time on earth already is very limited.

it should also be noted that each time the cough gets worse; louder, rougher, more persistent and even bloody, which only makes atsushi more and more worried.

so one time, akutagawa's particularly annoyed by atsushi's insane and stupid ideas. he turns to him and point-blank asks: "why do even care so much whether i succumb to my illness or not? surely, my death should only leave you overjoyed to see the world be rid of one more evil."

that makes atsushi think bc 'why? why does he care whether akutagawa lives or dies? he's right, a bad person like a mafioso dying should be a good thing.'

after lengthy contemplation he comes to the conclusion that he simply cannot have his sworn enemy/rival/partner die from something as pathetic as a disease. someone as strong as akutagawa has to die in a more memorable way - not alone, in a bed, coughing, with nothing more to be remembered by. if anything he'd have to die fighting atsushi or something. yeah that's it. that's why. (<- it's not, but they're not quite there yet)

so atsushi tells him as much. akutagawa accepts it bc 'yeah, makes sense. what else could the reason be?'

the whole routine of coughing and brainstorming a solution in vain continues as the ideas get even more insane, the cough even worse and atsushi more concerned than ever.

the next time akutagawa is annoyed enough to pose the question again, atsushi is close to tears from anxiety as he holds up akutagawa who collapsed and can't seem to subdue his cough properly.

atsushi struggles to get out the water bottle and cough drops he'd started carrying around on their missions together. he's so scared bc he's never seen akutagawa look so sick and frail before (but not weak. never weak. akutagawa could never be weak in atsushi's eyes. it's impossible, bc akutagawa being strong is a simple, unchangeable fact, constant in any possible universe).

what would he do if akutagawa actually died there? in his arms? on a mission? which would probably get cancelled. would the pm think atsushi killed him? does he bring back the body or just bury it somewhere? pretend he got killed on the mission and not by his own body that had turned on him years ago and was in reality a long time coming? he couldn't even bear to think abt it.

"why tf do u care so much??" akutagawa yells with a scratchy voice before his cough continue despite his best efforts to stop.

atsushi can barely breathe anymore. "because i don't want you to die, you idiot! we're a team! you're my partner. who will i be left with if you go?" tears stream down his face, mainly from how overwhelming his anxiety feels. or maybe bc he really doesn't want his partner to die? nah, it's the anxiety. definitely the anxiety. (<- #denial)

akutagawa, at first embarrassed how his collapse derailed their mission bc goddammit he's supposed to be a professional and not let his issues interfere with his job, pauses when he sees atsushi crying... for him? because of him? ???

he's very confused bc he's pretty sure his rival/enemy/partner should not be so concerned abt his health and impending death, but something abt atsushi's expression and that whole situation makes him rethink his outlook on life.

that's when akutagawa starts taking his health more seriously and actively looks for possible, feasible ways to cure his disease, even if there's only a small chance it'll actually work. bc seeing atsushi like that made him realize there are a handful of people who care abt him and would mourn him if he died; more than just his sister and higuchi.

it made him realize his life had a bigger impact on others than he'd previously thought, not all of it bad.

#i'm insane. i wrote this at 4am and it should not have gotten this long. i just wanted to note down the idea not write it out #fml #they're both very much idiots btw. they care but cannot come to the conclusion it could possibly be in a romantic way #only enemies bc 'grrr ure evil' and 'grr dazai likes u better'#they do eventually get over it and start dating dw trust me i can see the future😌👍#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanon #headcanon #nakajima atsushi #akutagawa ryunosuke #shin soukoku #sskk #akutagawa x atsushi #i desperately need to see more chronic illness!akutagawa content bc it's such a good angst source #and best part abt it? IT'S CANON. CANON CHARACTER WITH CANON CHRONIC HEALTH ISSUES AND TERMINAL LUNG DISEASE #like cmon it's. right. there. we just gotta grab it and the magic will happen #just watched the new ep.#ngl kinda disappointed to see how akutagwa's confession abt his disease was portrayed as an off-hand comment. it needed more impact imo #then again. it's bones <- disappointed but not surprised

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cowboydisaster · 2 years ago

Note

Daddy Dutch HCs about an F!reader who is smart yet bratty, but also inexperienced in a lot of ways and tries to hide it by being a smartass? i.e: being a virgin, never having drank herself, etc., Arthur too if you want. NSFW or SFW, or both!

Headcanons: Dutch x inexperienced reader

a/n: hello everyone I'm officially back with my first piece of content since my little hiatus!! Hope you enjoy, love y'all <3 Sfw and nsfw headcanons are separated and labeled!

Dutch is shocked when he finds out how inexperienced you are. You talk with such bravado. He was damn near sure that you had as much experience as any of the other gang members. How wrong he was.

your first drink:

The first time Dutch takes you out for drinks, and you admit you've never touched a bottle before, he's floored. "You mean to tell me that- a sight as fine as yourself, and you've never had someone buy you a drink before?" He'll chuckle, sliding a bill fold across the bar. He'll buy you your first drink with some light teasing. You meet his teasing head on, using your quick tongue to defend yourself.

He makes sure you drink responsibly. He wants you to have fun, but he doesn't want you getting hurt, sick, or arrested. Dutch will drink less that night to keep a close eye on you and ensure your safety.

He'll help you ride home, pulling your back against his chest in the saddle to aid you in safely returning to camp.

Dutch will get you comfortable in his bed, making sure to have some tonics, cold, wet towels, and water on standby for your inevitable first hangover.

your first smoke:

Again, Dutch is shocked when he finds out that you've never smoked. Immediately, he pulls a pack of cigarettes from inside his coat pocket and lights a match on his boot.

"Just like this, my dear. Watch me." He'll whisper, bringing the cigarette close to his lips, "First you want to pull the smoke into your mouth and let it sit for a moment, then inhale it down to your lungs."

Dutch takes a pull from the cigarette before exhaling it through his nostrils. Them he's passing it over to you.

You follow his instructions but still wind up coughing the smoke back up.

The next day, Dutch will buy you a pack of premium cigarettes from the store, telling you that "Practice makes perfect."

⚠️ NSFW:

Dutch catches on to your inexperience by the time you tell him you're a virgin. He's not so surprised.

He'll kiss your neck, feel the jumping nervousness under your pulsepoint while his hands search your body.

"Why don't you let me show you, my darling?" He'll ask in between kisses. "I'll make you feel incredible."

When you give him your consent, Dutch won't talk you through everything, but he will focus intently on your face and composure, making sure that you feel good and are comfortable.

He'll dirty talk. A lot. This man gets off on praising and worshipping you. Expect: "You're so beautiful.", "You're doing so well.", "Just like that.", "Does that feel good?", "Perfect."

He's poetic in bed, you find. "Nothing, in all my years, has amounted to your beauty." He'll whisper against your ear.

Again, he worships you. Especially because you're new at this, but your pleasure always comes first. He can't get enough of it. The way your face draws up when you experience bliss for the first time with him-- he's obsessed. It's almost too much, how many times he'll bring you over the edge.

He's not a big cuddler when it comes to aftercare. He's more the type to clean you up and take care of you. He'll give you a bath, clean you up, and read to you while you soak in the hot water. He'll pour you a drink and ask you how you feel; if you're okay/comfortable/have any regrets. Which you don't of course. He's a gentleman the entire time, making you feel safe and loved.

bonus: This man is obsessed with forehead kisses. He kisses your forehead when he first slides in, and every time he praises you, he's pressing his lips to your forehead with his eyes squinted shut in pleasure.

#dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde headcanons #rdr2 dutch #dutch van der linde x female reader #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde x you #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde imagine #rdr2 headcanons

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19burstraat · 1 year ago

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proving kaz is a tidemaker, even tho it's not canon and shouldn't be, but I'm gonna argue for it anyway

I already made this post ages ago and now this has been in my drafts for even longer, I just unearthed it... but I'm making it again, more in depth, bc I didn't hit on everything I wanted to last time. obviously this isn't canon bc the point of kaz is he's Just Some Guy and how that really really pisses off more powerful people, and I think that's definitely best, Kaz NEEDS to be otkazat'sya for his function in the story... but if you ever wanted to prove it in a fic, shit is EASY. (I am vaguely considering how it might work out in a fic. we'll see. I've done stuff that couldn't/I wouldn't want to be canon before with my jordie-lives fic, so...) I'll mostly talk in the context that he'd be a tidemaker bc I feel like that's the conclusion a lot of this comes to, but some of the points are more generalised.

obviously the basic argument everyone makes for this is that the reason kaz was able to get back to shore from reaper's barge is bc, subconsciously or not, as a tidemaker he could control the currents to help him, since that's one of the most basic tidemaker powers. in the harbour scene, he notices that the tide has moved to work against him, but it doesn't seem to prove much of a problem; he attributes it to his new will to survive, but... Well. Kaz is exceptionally good at withholding information, even in his own POV.

grisha not using their powers become ill or weaker; kaz isn't really physically ill but he has an element of the underfed and sallow about him that's generally attributed to living in the barrel.

kaz is also ESPECIALLY horrified by the state of mikka, the tidemaker under the influence of jurda parem at the start of SOC; this is attributed to his past trauma and his dislike for things he can't rationally explain, which, yeah, but he is thrown in a way we don't really see again for the rest of the series. he instantly thinks of jordie, and it's maybe the one time he succumbs to superstition in the whole series.

the obvious explanation for how kaz knew that coffee extract and paraffin hid the scent/evidence of grisha is that he's very clearly involved in smuggling (jesper mentions how coffee grounds were used when packing smuggled jurda shipments) but the second explanation,,, is that he uses them himself. he comes up with the solution with IMMENSE speed and he just like, has the coffee extract around. ok, sure, not that hard to get hold of, but still. and coffee gets mentioned in relation to him at least a few times, most noticeably the 'bitter coffee eyes' thing inej uses, which is amusingly romanticised, but also... inej why do you associate coffee w kaz... something you've noticed abt him?

(but then, you wonder why he didn't suggest this to jesper previously; the answer I'm sure he would give you is he did, when it was a problem. before that it wasn't a problem and jesper was doing fine at staying hidden on his own)

the gloves can also add to this one, since they presumably at least cover his wrists and therefore his pulse somewhat, though obviously that's not their main function.

recovers with startling speed from nearly drowning at the ice court; matthias has to get his breathing going again but he's almost immediately fine after. I know yk, heist fantasy book, gotta keep going, but still

kaz is almost completely correct about the methods, powers of, and appearances of the council of tides (one single thing, the method of hiding their faces, is wrong.) impressive, no...? he is also shockingly apathetic in the face of their threats; they fill his lungs up with water and he just coughs it up and then is like "lol" immediately after. this is funny no matter what the fact of the matter (major general of the idgaf war) but the fact his link to them is left hanging is also a thread that could be easy to pick up. I think it would be hilarious if he was secretly in the council, but I won't stretch it that far bc they clearly don't like him lmao, that would have to be a proper AU.

in the dregs, kaz has a corporalki (nina) and a materialki (jesper) but no etheralki. wouldn't it be prudent to recruit one, if he could find one? or maybe he doesn't need one. if he already has one around, for an emergency of emergencies... for a rainy day... (ha ha)

the way kaz's trauma is often described as manifesting, is with the rising of the harbour waters; so it's pretty reasonable to suggest that in suppressing that, he'd also, inadvertently or not, suppress any kind of tidemaker/etheralki impulse or power. possibly he can't even tell the difference between the two, or they're so tangled up he can't really separate them anymore, which is why he doesn't so much as even think to attempt to use it. still, if this was the case I think improvement with one would not necessarily improve the other, or vice versa. kaz hypothetically using grisha power he'd had suppressed would not magically make his touch aversion go away, I think that'd be weird, and I'd not want his PTSD to be passed off as solely being the sickness from not using grisha power, that's reductive as hell. but I can see them certainly being two things very much intertwined.

we don't know a lot about grisha who are native to kerch, but assumedly he'd not have had much cause to use it in his childhood, on a farm somewhere inland, so most, if not all, of his experience with using it would likely be irretrievably tied to ketterdam and jordie so no wonder he just wouldn't use it. I don't think he'd even see it as feasible. perhaps it would be a very very final resort, but he'd never let it get to that point, he'd always want to try something else first. and anyway, he'd not be trained.

the sankt vladimir story is also thematically quite close to Kaz; holding back the harbour waters until he's finally too exhausted and lets it drown him. I like this regardless of this analysis actually it's a good comparison. patron saint of the drowned and unlikely achievement....

even if kaz wasn't an otkazat'sya, after all that happened, I think he'd try very hard to pretend he was. it couldn't save jordie, therefore in his extreme as hell thinking around that entire thing, I imagine he'd reason it wasn't useful, that he could get on better without it, and, like jesper, think it was a liability.

this would add a wild layer to him being the one to have the jurda parem on him for almost all of crooked kingdom; it would make it feel like his plan z was to take it himself. certainly he'd sooner do that than let jesper take it.

and finally: thematically, it slays. like half of the imagery around kaz (and kanej) centres around water (think the bathroom scene, how he only washes in front of her, etc) and that plays into both of their trauma, plus religious imagery, all this... it's a fantastic bit of extra theming. it just doesn't really work with how his character operates.

basically I think you could DEFINITELY make it work and it'd be a killer fic but again it's one of those things, like jordie living, that I don't really want to be canon because it undermines something about kaz's character that I consider pretty critical; in this case, that kaz is not really endowed with any special power or circumstance, he's just bloody-minded and clever, but that's enough for him to pull off almost impossible jobs anyway.

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #soc duology #soc #my post #six of crows duology #this has been in my drafts for sooo long lmao #it'd be an interesting fic but idk how I'd frame it. I'll have a think

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pray4saint · 1 year ago

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helloooooo!! back again!! (so sorry ^^”)

dteam taking care of sick reader hcs?? (separate)

tyy :)

dteam taking care of sick!reader

masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. gn!reader.

a/n. don't be sorry i love seeing my moots in my inbox! & oml dteam n sick!reader literally make my heart sob in a good way

dream

this mf is texting his mom either asking her for a soup recipe or asking her to make for you because he remembers that soup always making him feel better when he was sick as a kid (and four months ago when he was sick, the soup helped then too 🙄)

when you push him away from you when he tries to hug you, he pouts like a baby

”clay, baby no, i don't wanna get you sick.” ”i don't care y/n i want to hug you. i promise you i'll be fine.” you look at him with brows furrowed. you knew he wouldn't be giving up all that easily so you give in. ”fine.” his eyes light up as he wraps his arms around you.

promises he'll be back in twenty minutes when his mom texts him that he can come pick up the soup and he is, bringing it to you in a mug

absolutely believes in home remedies and warmth solving all the sickness / meaning he's letting your snuggle into his chest and texting his mom about anything else she knows may help

also takes your phone when you complain about having a headache

makes sapnap tweet about him being so MIA from the internet

HOWEVER, that he absolutely takes selfies of him bringing you things and taking care of you for his snap story, because he's so silly like that

doesn't protest at all when you want to binge a show he doesn't like

but of course when you start to get better, he gets sick

”i can't believe i you got me sick.” he pouts and he is a little sarcastic in his tone but you only look at him with a slight scowl. ”i told you not to hug me clay. this is your fault.” ”you know what baby?” he looks at you but your scowl remains, ”it was totally worth it.” you nod to him. ”it better have been.”

sapnap

brings you over and settles you on the couch so that you get to have some social interaction, even if it's just his roommates when they come down to get water or snacks

takes you out for ice cream on the first day

always holding your hand when he's with you and walks you too and from the bathroom, almost as if he's scared you'll fall over and die

”sap i promise i'm fine, you don't have to walk me to the bathroom.” your boyfriend scoffs, hands hovering over your hips to make sure you don't fall. ”i'm not taking any chances darlin'.”

quick, light kisses at the backside base of your neck and on your shoulders

this guy buys like fourteen types of medicine and asks you which one you want to try because he doesn't know what'll work

when nothing works he asks his roommates and texts his mom

george gives him specific directions for scheduling and dream offers to get you food but that's all they can do / his mom and sisters come over and spend time with you, talking to you, making you food and doing your chores

also one day when his family is over to see you and you've given him approval, he does a valorant stream, smiling despite how many times he dies because he loves hearing your giggles mixed with those of his mom and sisters

his sisters definitely send him funny pictures of them and you and his mom laughing, to which he shows stream one of you posing in a funny way

also makes you do light exercise while you're sick so that you don't get worse

”c'mon y/n, i promise you this'll help.” ”i just wanna take a nap..” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, ”after these last two lunges i'll walk you back to the couch, okay?” all you do is nod at him, focused on getting back to your precious sleep.

george

at first he thinks you're kidding when you text him and tell him you're sick (mostly because that man is such a fucking germophobe)

when you call him, coughing, voice hoarse and nose red, he somehow lets go of every germophobic thought he's ever had and tells you he's coming to pick you up

you do not get to stay in your own home when you're sick, no you go over to his place, sleep in his bed while he sleeps on the couch and he acts like a real full-time care nurse

george sets the mug of tea down on the table next to the bed and smiles at you. your returned smile is weak. ”love is there anything else i can get you?” you shake your head and he looks down at his watch. ”alright, well in about thirty minutes you have to go to the bathroom again.” ”no i don't.” ”it's important while you're sick that you have regular trips to the washroom.” you look up at the ceiling, cursing yourself for falling for a man who acts like such a doctor.

– still absolutely refuses to let his mouth touch your skin while you're sick because he doesn't want to get sick himself

he will hold your hand or rub your back or your stomach, or even massage your shoulders but he washes his hands right afterwards every single time

george waking up every two and a half hours in the night to check on you, your temperature, if you need anything or to go to the bathroom, etc

also calls off all his streams despite the amount of times you told him it was fine and that you would be okay

”georgie i told you it's fine.” you try to protest but he's already turned his phone over and onto the tabled. ”nope, taking care of you comes first love.”

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

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fruitycasket · 2 months ago

Text

Pot Roast! (Sunspell)

I don't know how to write people being happy... So I made a compromise with myself and had Marvin be sick, so then Moira (first) and Sunday (second) can come to his aid and make him a bit happier. Also Higgins is there being (un)helpful.

Also. I made myself hungry. Pot roast is good (and it cooks itself!). :>

(Also up on Ao3 under RottenFruitz)

“You should've called me, you're burning up!” Moira shook her head at the unseen but undoubtedly high number displayed on her thermometer.

Wow, I had no idea. Had it been anyone else, Marvin would have said that aloud. For Moira, he mumbled, "You didn't have to come over."

To that, she snorted. "Not like it's my job or anything. Can you stand?"

No. No he could not. "I'm a man, I can get m'own medicine."

"And end up crawling back to your bed?"

"Ah… well…" That was an accurate assessment of how Marvin handled debilitating sickness. Grumbling half-legible rebuttals, he sank further into bed. Perched on his chest as he had been since daylight broke, Higgins purred, the noise going steady like the hum of a generator. The cat seemed to think he was helping but the extra body heat was the last thing Marvin wanted.

He was scalding hot, sweaty, and mouthbreathing as he lay on top of his duvet. Every now and then be broke into a fit of wet, choking coughs or was seized by several sneezes in a row. What had been the sniffles yesterday was now a full-blown, disabling flu. Or something like that. Maybe Moira had told him otherwise and he hadn't heard or forgotten.

“You need is rest,” Moira chided him, "Which means you stay in this bed until you're feeling better."

"All day? I'll go mad."

"You will be if I find out you've not listened to me."

Marvin hesitated. "Yeah, I will be."

He'd only told Sunday he was ill, and had only meant for Sunday and his friends to know, but he must have sounded seconds from keeling over if the news had gotten to Moira anyway. Did one of them have her phone number? That was a little disconcerting for a reason he couldn't place. That, or they'd just gone to his mum's house, and he didn't feel better about that, either.

Moira said something about getting him medicine and water. Marvin wasn't really listening. His brain, currently cooking in its own immune response, was struggling to keep up its usual activities, and he had all but used up its computing space with that single conversation and the following bit of thinking. Moira left and she could have been gone for a minute or an hour, but when she returned, she spooned Marvin two different medicines, set a glass of cool water on his nightstand, and kissed him on the forehead.

(Then, at the cat's insistence, she gave Higgins a kiss, too.)

“You should feel less shitty in a little while,” Moira stood, "I'll be on my way, now. You get some rest like I said."

“M'kay…” Marvin said. “Thanks.”

“That’s what parents are for." She squeezed his hand, stood, and left him with one more message: "A friend is coming over to check on you later, so if you've been getting out of bed"—she narrowed her eyes—"I'll know."

Marvin sighed, then all but coughed up a lung. When he was finished, he whispered through a sore throat, "Yes ma'am."

Whatever Moira had given him, it knocked him out within the hour. With Higgins as his mildly weighted blanket, he drifted in and out of sleep for all the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon. Once or twice a noise roused him, but he was never cognizant enough to register that he was awake, or that someone might be pressing a hand against his forehead and asking him how we was doing, or that he was answering in deeply slurred words. It all felt like one long, lurid dream where his bedroom sometimes spontaneously appeared.

(It would take hindsight for him to realize it wasn't all a dream, and to realize who some of those dreams were about.)

It wasn't until mid-afternoon when his medicine wore off that Marvin started staying up for more than a few minutes at a time.

By the time he was wide awake, able to push himself up in bed, Higgins was gone.

Coughing and wheezing, he fumbled for the bottles Moira had left for him beside his bed and gave himself what seemed like an appropriate dose from both. The bitter taste was washed down with a cup of water. With that done, he tried to follow his orders—don't get up, except to take a piss or eat—but he was stir crazy and wanted to get away from the cocoon of sweat he'd made for himself. He had to move around, wander, cast a spell, something. It was one thing to be curled up with a book, snug in his bed of his own free will, but the second someone or something forced stillness upon him he got twitchy.

So, when he got sick, he usually slept as much as he could get away with, but his oppressive body heat and inflamed nose yet to be quelled by his second medicine dose. That wasn't an option.

Well, the thermostat wasn't in his bedroom, that was a good enough excuse to get up. And he could top off Higgins' food and water while he was at it.

It took a while for Marvin to peel himself off his bed. Once he was up, he meandered out to his living room. He opened his mouth to call for Higgins, and instead ended up sputtering: “Sunday?”

Sunday was in his kitchen. A pot of beef stew was boiling strong, an electric kettle was just beginning to heat up, and he was rifling through the cabinets. Higgins was up on the counter, curled into a loaf and watching the pot with hungry eyes. Sometimes the cat gave Sunday a quick glance, like he was weighing up how likely it was that he could get the lid off, steal a bite, and dart under the couch before he was caught.

Upon hearing his name, Sunday stopped his search to give Marvin a disapproving frown. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Oh, so you were—I just—I expected you'd check in and leave.”

“I have been, but I thought you'd want dinner, and…" Sunday gestured at Higgins, "…he was hungry. I can leave now, though. Stew beef basically cooks itself and it's almost done."

Marvin considered that. "No I'm—I'm fine. With you staying, I mean."

“Alright. Well, sorry if I woke you up coming through the front door,” Sunday continued speaking, “Your spice cabinet didn't have what I needed, for one thing. Had to pop out and get some things.”

“I don't have a spice cabinet.” What he had was salt and pepper.

Sunday grimaced. “Exactly.” He paused. "You headed for the living room?”

"Yeah." It was only then Marvin realized he was winded. Ugh. He'd rather not have Moira coming around and spooning him medicine like he was five years old, but she'd at least seen (almost) all the rough edges he had to offer. It was different with Sunday.

"Figured as much. Let me get you before you keel over." Sunday came closer, and rather than offer a shoulder to lean on like Marvin expected he would, put on hand on his back. "Hold on to me."

"Why?" Marvin realized what was happening too late. Not that he could have done anything about it anyway, he'd had the build and muscle mass of a stickbug before this, now he must be even lighter from sweating all his water weight into his bed. It was an (embarassingly) proven fact that, whether with magic or by physical force, he was not a hard man to lift clear off the floor. “Don’t you dare”—

“Too late!” Sunday swept Marvin's feet out from under him, lifted him up bridal style.

Marvin, foreseeing himself plummet to the floor and break a bone, clung on to Sunday as he'd been asked. “Put me down!”

“And let you fall? That'd only embarrass you more.”

Marvin prayed his face wasn't as red as it felt. “The second I get better Sunday, I”—

“As long as you wait until you’re better first.” Sunday set him down on the couch and grinned. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Marvin harrumphed at him.

Someone had anticipated Marvin would go nuts in his room, because there were pillows and a blanket arranged neatly on the couch already. As Marvin set about ruining it (i.e. getting comfortable), Higgins jumped onto his lap the moment the space was available, crushing his stomach beneath his soft paws in a quest to get comfortable. With Higgins help, the blankets became a cushion-y, wrinkled pile hanging halfway off the couch.

Should I say thanks? He didn't feel particularly thankful. But he also didn't feel horrible, even though he was warmer than before and also no closer to his thermostat.

“When’s lunch done?” he asked instead.

“Soon. Sooner if you don't mind tough beef. I can make you a little hot cocoa while you wait, if you’re hungry, though.”

“Sure,” Marvin said. He shrank into the couch, suddenly aware of how sore he was.

A deep ache wormed through his muscles, down to his bones, and trying to hobble into the kitchen hadn’t helped matters. Half of him wanted to pace to distract himself from it, the other half said to sink into the couch and never resurface. At least his medicine was slowly working its way through him. (Or he'd placebo-effected himself into thinking that was the case.)

Every time he recovered from an illness he was quick to forget how miserable being sick was.

It felt like this would be his life now.

Forever.

“Oi. I see you wallowing over there,” Sunday chided him as he set down a steaming cup of chocolate milk on the couchside table.

“M'not wallowing,” Marvin said.

“Suuure.” Sunday gestured towards the drink. “Drink up.”

The heat of the cup eased his soreness a little. He sat with it in his hands, relishing its warmth for a while before taking a sip. “It’s good,” he said, “And I… I was wallowing. A little.”

“Only a little?” Sunday asked as he retreated into the kitchen.

Marvin didn’t reply to that. “How long have you been here? Coming in and out, I mean?”

“Only been in a few times.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The sound of the pot lid being removed drifted from the kitchen alongside a mouthwatering smell. "Yeah this is almost good. Let me know if you need anything else."

Marvin asked for the heat to be turned down, and with that finished, silence settled over them, filled only by Higgins purring, then by the TV after Marvin couldn’t bear the quiet. Marvin wondered whether Sunday found it uncomfortable.

Should he have asked him to stay? Surely he had better things to do than keeping Marvin from going stir crazy. And, as it stood, Marvin was a health hazard. There had to be reasons Sunday had spent most of his time coming and going instead of here, and it felt odd to override those. Higgins had needed to be fed though and Marvin definitely couldn't have done that as he was.

One episode of some crime drama passed by surprisingly fast, and dinner was done.

Higgins knew it before Marvin did. He'd been watching Sunday every time he got up for signs he was going to the kitchen, and once he started taking out bowls for the stew, the cat darted across the floor to circle the man's ankles, begging for food as he came out of the kitchen with two bowls. Successfully charmed by his fuzzy round face, Sunday flung him a strip of beef after setting the food down on little couchside table.

Marvin shook his head. “You're spoiling him. Now he'll be insufferable."

Higgins inhaled the entire chunk of stew beef, tenderized by six hours of boiling in soup. When he was done, he licked his chops and sat by Sunday again, this time looking up at him with dinner plate-sized, I would die for you (so please feed me again!) eyes.

Marvin took a bite of his stew.

Damn, and so would I.

“Good, right?” Sunday was back on the armchair, attention split between Marvin and Higgins, who was poised to jump into his lap.

“It’s great, yeah.” Marvin paused. It went on for too long, and a little embarrassed that he didn’t say it before, hurried to add, “Thanks.”

"Of course it is, that's my mum's recipe."

They returned to silence, and Marvin alternated between being convinced it was awkward and thinking it was companionable. Sometimes they burst into fits of vibrant conversation for however long that lasted before drifting into quiet. Together, they burned through one third of a TV show they'd been meaning to watch, a few video essays, and a few bowls of stew beef, at which point it was getting dark, and Sunday wanted to go home. It was one of the first times Marvin had blown through a sick day so fast without the use of sleep.

It was nice.

A sick day—nice. What an oxymoron.

"Well…" Sunday stood and made a show of stretching, "It's about time I take my leave. Will you be alright here?"

I will be if you can carry me back to bed.

Marvin opened his mouth and hesitated. "I can get to bed on my own. But, yeah, I appreciate you for feeding the cat and all that."

Sunday grinned at him. "That's what friends are for. I'll see you around."

He watched Marvin head to his room, then started leaving when it seemed like he'd make it safely.

Marvin was left to crawl into bed, top off his medicine, and get as cozy as he could manage as he listened for the sound of Sunday leaving and locking the door behind him.

Once the other magician was gone, some little thrill that'd wormed into his heart died, and left behind a ghost—a notion that he'd messed something up.

Hm.

Being sick wouldn't be so bad if Sunday came over every time.

#altrverse #sunspell #void silver #sunday vs #sunspell vs #higgins vs #marvin the magnificent #I still don't know how this turned out #I find I'm a bad judge at how others will receive a final draft of a fic #But I'm doing this for free so whatever!!!#howwww do I tag this #featherweight marvin for the win #I know he's not THAT thin in the comics but. have you considered that I can do what I want with my power 🪱#okay I have like three speeches to be working on so now I depart #one of these days I need to do some Scary Higgins content

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my-own-walker · 1 year ago

Note

So glad to hear you're taking requests for this week! Luv ur stories 🙂

Can I pls request an angst re-imagining what you've happened in that movie night scene in asylum if Kit, Lana and Grace (you can change Grace for reader if you want, lol) were actually caught there by Jude instead of being mistaken when they were all sitting back soaking wet after having tried to escape?

Tysm

She's Not There

note: thank ya for the compliment! also, this pic makes me so sad :((( love this request tho! it's like a lil creative writing activity

warnings: AHS asylum, abuse, bl00d, really just sad themes, aka angst, does not end well for the reader (sorry)

Kit's POV

I loved her as she was. I never wanted to control her fire. All I needed was to be near it. To bask in the warmth of her spirit.

She came to me with the idea of escape. She relied on my resilience to get by. Who was I to dull that sparkle in her eye?

A big storm was on the way. A movie night was planned. Our plan seemed so solid, that we could taste the freedom. Nothing could get in the way of her and me trying to get out of there. To have a life together.

When the moment came, I felt sick. We were unsupervised. We could slip out unnoticed. So we did. Her, Shelley, and I. I paused outside the door to the common room, steeling my nerves. If I'm honest, I would have bailed right there, had it not been for her.

She looked back at me, hope in her eyes. She looked like a religious icon. Like someone you'd sacrifice yourself for. I took her hand and I followed her. I would have done anything for her.

She reluctantly let Lana join us after she begged. I may not have done what she did, but she was brave. And she was kind. And she was patient. Shelley sacrificed herself to allow us to pass without an orderly seeing us.

She kept on because she was fearless.

We exited into the storm, Lana with us instead of Shelley. It was terrifying. We quickened our pace through the blinding storm. Sheets of rain fell upon us, blurring our vision detrimentally. The hissing storm saturated the ground. Sticky, wet mud dragged us down and made moving nearly impossible.

We got turned around. We barely knew which way to go. The curtain of rain and wind made the trees around us blur like a watercolor painting. I couldn't breathe. The water encompassed my being, infiltrating my nose and mouth each time I tried to feed my lungs.

Then, my breath caught for a different reason. With a loud crack and a flash of pain, I was leveled, lying in the disgusting mud. A figure stood over me, holding what looked like a bat. They brandished the weapon and swung down upon me with a swoosh. All at once, everything was black.

I awoke coughing. Wet, thick coughs that tasted bad on my tongue. My vision was blurred. A sharp pain crackled through my skull. I feared my brain might split in two. I used two hands to hold my head, trying to squeeze the pain away, all while using the heels of my palms to wipe the clouds from my eyes.

With a few more blinks, I could see again. I lowered my hands and looked down at them. The sight left me shell-shocked. Both were covered in wet, fresh blood. It was grotesque. My chest constricted so tightly, it was as if the walls were trying to keep my heart from dropping.

Then a memory of her flashed across my vision. My head shot up and I scanned the room feverishly for a sign of her. I was in solitary, though, so no one was there. Not even a guard.

I stood from my place on the floor next to the back wall, but without the concrete propping my back up I fell back over onto my hands and knees. The splitting pain in my head rendered me useless on my feet. I crawled to the door and collapsed in a heap next to it.

In the seconds following, I heard the door unlatch, and then open. I didn't even have the strength to look up.

"Ah, you're awake," Sister Jude purred. "It's time you came with me."

Two orderlies grappled me roughly to my feet, securing my hands together with leather straps behind my back. The two of them, led by Sister Jude, dragged my limp body through the asylum, all the way to her office. My hanging feet hit each stair heavily as they dragged me upward.

The sight before me broke my heart. She sat slumped in a chair in front of Sister Jude's desk, bleeding from the back of her head. I perked up a bit upon seeing her, almost believing I could be let go and run to her.

They placed me in the seat next to her. Despite the awful pain, I craned my neck to see her face. She was nearly unrecognizable, brutalized heinously. She wasn't conscious. I full-body winced.

Next in came Lana, in better shape than the two of us, yet still bruised and bloodied.

Sister Jude snapped her finger at the orderly behind us and pointed at Y/N. "You! Wake her up," she barked. The man, dressed in all white, the front of his shirt stained with blood, shuffled over to her.

He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. Her head swung from side to side, limply, then, bobbed up slowly. She let out a sickening gurgle that made my stomach turn. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her.

"So," Sister Jude began. "These are the three who took advantage of my kindness, hm?" She paced back and forth behind her desk. "You three believed it appropriate to try to leave. You sicken me."

"You've punished us enough," Lana croaked.

"Ah, yes?" Jude smiled. "I don't think so." She tutted her tongue. "I don't believe so at all."

Her head dipped back down beside me heavily, her chin making contact with her chest.

"Keep her awake," Jude barked. The orderly returned to Y/N's side and shook her again. This time, though, she didn't stir. A nauseating feeling crept up inside of me.

"Y/N?" I rasped, leaning to my left to nudge her with my shoulder. She still didn't stir. Water collected in my bottom eyelid as a lump formed in my throat.

"Get her out of here," Sister Jude ordered, gesturing toward the door. The man in all white picked her up, bridal style. Her head swayed loosely as he adjusted her in his arms.

My lip trembled. I sucked in a short breath before I let out a small cry. Tears collected in my eyelashes, making it hard for me to see. I couldn't wipe them away, I could only let them fall.

"No," I choked out, barely audible as the orderly took her away from me. I could only believe the worst.

How terrible it is to love something death can touch.

Part of me wanted to believe the worst was yet to come, but if she truly was gone, the worst had already come and gone. I swallowed my despair and steeled myself for whatever punishment I was to be dealt.

Because nothing could be worse than losing her.

SORRY IT WAS SAD THATS WHO I AM!!!

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x reader #kit walker #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot #kit walker x reader #kit walker imagine #kit walker ahs

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lamuradex · 4 months ago

Text

Friday Kiss Tag (and Writing Share)

Got to get down on Friday, it's writing romance time.

Thanks @the-golden-comet for the tag.

Rules: from your Story/WIP, share a kiss. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, forehead kisses, platonic smooches, to full-blown makeouts

And, as always, if you don’t have a kiss to share—no worries! You can always use this as a writing share tag as well.

Rules: Share a snippet of your writing!

So, which story to go for... I think I'll choose a kiss from Signs of Light and Shadow, where Cerris has just been saved from drowning. Her saviour did technically kiss her, to force air into her lungs to save her, but this kiss is a lot more fun.

Before she was even stable, she gulped down air. A coughing fit followed, ejecting some water she’d just inhaled. When she stopped spluttering, she looked to the evening sky. She was alive. Ecstatic joy thrilled her. She cried her thanks to the sky, laughing like madman. She was alive! Slowly, she relaxed, focusing on staying afloat. As the euphoria faded, she remembered her saviour who floated nearby. She was a young woman. She had frizzy, walnut hair, and dark brown skin which shone like bronze. Colourful plants were woven through her hair, making braids amongst the sodden frizz. She floated there, broad lips grinning anxiously. Big, brown eyes shone above a cute round nose. She seemed happy that Cerris survived, but a little unnerved by her celebration. Cerris smiled and threw caution to the wind. She leapt forwards, wrapped the woman in her arms and kissed her on the lips. She then broke the kiss and fell back grinning. The girl just stared ahead, a goofy smile on her face. “Sorry if that was inappropriate, but you kissed me on the way up,” Cerris said cheekily. The girl was silent, still stunned. “You alright?” Cerris asked, worried she’d offended her. “I’m fine,” the woman squeaked. She cleared her throat, averting her gaze. “I’m fine,” she repeated with more confidence. “How are you?” “I’m alive, thanks to you.” “Yes. Right. My name’s Marina, by the way,” she added, extending a hand. Cerris noticed how easily she remained afloat. “Cerris,” she replied, trying to shake hands and tread water. Cerris could just make out Marina’s clothing beneath the water. Seaweed fronds wrapped her torso, and her legs were covered in some purple material. Then Cerris remembered her silhouette. A body with a tapered tail. “Are you a mermaid?” Cerris asked nonchalantly. She knew she should be afraid, but Marina had just saved her life. Also, she was still dazed from almost drowning. She didn’t have the spare energy to be afraid. “Um…what makes you say that?” Marina stammered, sinking up to her chin. “Your tail.” “Oh. Right. I am a mermaid.” Marina bobbed higher again. “Don’t be frightened,” she pleaded awkwardly.

And there we go. Cerris's first proper kiss in the book.

Now for tags.

I'll do my usuals.

By the way, if anyone doesn't want to be tagged, or alternatively would love to be tagged, feel free to let me know. Currently I'm just tagging Writeblr mutuals, as best as I can work out.

@wintherlywords @stephtuckerauthor @fayeiswriting @mikathewriter @agirlandherquill

#Signs of Light and Shadow #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #fantasy #lamura dex writes!#friday kiss tag

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triscribeaucollection · 11 months ago

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Summoned

(So my "write a post a new PJO fic each afternoon" got derailed by going out of town, and the next one-shot is going to be significantly longer by the time I'm done with it, but here's the first page just to tide my new followers over for a bit):

Maybe the ocean would always be nice to her, but Thalia was having second thoughts about the camp’s lake.

“MotherFUDGE-!”

“Come on, Thali!” “You can do it, Grace! “We believe in you!”

“Shut UP,” she shrieked, grinning from ear to ear but doing her best to still sound annoyed. “I am never trusting you again, Castellan, never!”

Luke just laughed from the other canoe. Thalia took a chance and swiped her paddle along the top of the water, which did manage to splash the jerk but also caused her dumb boat to wobble wildly again.

“You’re only making it worse!” Percy did not have room to talk, seeing as he kept twisting in all directions on the bench seat in the middle of their canoe. Every time the stupid thing shifted underneath Thalia’s butt, she tensed up and tried to compensate, but then they’d bob the other way instead, and it was all a vicious cycle, okay?!

And she loved every minute of it.

“Just relax!” The big Hephaestus kid in the front spot tried to offer. “It’s like riding a pegasus- or a bike!”

Thalia almost yelled back that she’d never done either of those, thanks very much, but a face-full of water cut her off first. Sputtering, the girl wiped at her eyes, then glared at a highly unrepentant Annabeth gliding by in her own canoe. “You are so getting tickled later,” Thalia swore.

The shrieking-laughing-cussing kept getting louder and louder, until, inevitably, Percy leaned too far over the side to look at something underwater, and Thalia jerked forward to grab him, and the combination of too much weight and movement dumped all of them overboard. At least the Hephaestus kid, Becken-something, didn’t seem to mind: he just grabbed onto the tow line at the front of the canoe and leisurely started swimming for shore. Rather than follow, Thalia enacted her revenge, lunging through the water towards Luke.

“Oh shit-” his alarm got the other two Hermes kids to actually start paddling, instead of just messing around, but they didn’t get away fast enough. Thalia gripped the edge of their canoe, and capsized it too. By the time she kicked away from that mess, cackling, Percy had made his way over to Annabeth. Even if he’d wanted to, the kid didn’t quite have enough bodyweight to dump it over so easily - he just swam alongside instead, dropping his head down underwater every time Annabeth tried to bop him with her paddle.

Hands grabbed at Thalia’s ankle. She kicked back, and was rewarded a moment later when Luke surfaced, coughing and rubbing at his forehead. They proceeded to slap water at each other for a few minutes, gradually drifting closer to shore, until someone shouted their names from the small beach.

“Last one back is a rotten harpy egg!” And of course as soon as she said that, Thalia kicked Luke in the gut, knocking him back with a yelp and propelling her forward.

“Hey! No fair!”

She snickered all the way out of the water and back up onto dry land, where Hailey waited with some towels and a raised eyebrow.

“Chiron asked me to come find you guys,” the older girl said, when Luke staggered up out of the lake as well. “Probably ought to dry off and change first, before you go down to the Big House.”

“Yeah, fine,” Thalia agreed, way more cheerfully than usual. Whatever the old centaur wanted, it was not going to be enough to spoil her good mood. And she managed to keep that mindset, all the way through getting dressed in clean clothes and rejoining her friends and heading down to the camp’s largest building.

But her good mood dropped like a stone when Thalia reached the glass-wall porch, and saw Hermes sitting at the table.

She could tell the instant Luke spotted him too, thanks to the sudden death grip on her forearm. Hermes must have sensed his son in return, because he looked up from talking quietly with Dionysus. He tried to offer them a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Luke. Thalia.” The god’s gaze flickered down and to one side. “And you must be the new Perseus everyone’s been talking about.”

A smaller hand tucked itself inside Thalia’s grip.

“What do you want,” Luke demanded, voice flat and cold.

“Hey,” Dionysus warned, speaking before the other god could, “You better watch it with the tone, kid-”

“It’s fine,” Hermes cut him off. “He’s fine. It’s not worth getting annoyed about.” Thalia shifted her arm, and Luke’s hand slid down to where they could both hold onto one another. If Hermes noticed, he didn’t mention it. “Sorry to drop in unannounced, but you two-” He nodded towards Thalia, and Percy pressing against her side, “-are being summoned to Olympus.”

“No.”

“Luke-”

“No.” Thalia could feel her best friend start to tremble. “You can’t.”

“I have to, kid.” Hermes kept his words soft, but it didn’t make them any easier to accept. “Even gods can get orders from on high. And right now, I’m under orders to bring both of them directly to Olympus. No stops, no detours, no delays.”

Thalia swallowed.Then she turned in place, pulling on Luke’s hand until he met her gaze. “Go find Annabeth,” she told him. “Keep her busy until we get back.”

His face turned stricken in an instant. But he didn’t argue.

#misc #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #fan fiction #thalia grace #luke castellan #annabeth chase #percy jackson #wip #this one's gonna be an emotional rollercoaster #>:3 #the Trade AU

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basket-of-cats-and-witches · 5 months ago

Text

In Sickness and Health

In which Kiri finds herself with a persistent cough, and Zayne takes care of her.

We're still on the hurt/comfort train. Personally I loved this piece, for all that it gets a little gross with illness. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, they tell me that people enjoy my writing!

---

“Remind me to beg Captain Jenna to never put us in a swamp again.”

Kiri trudges into the apartment complex. Her clothes are damp, her hair smells like peat moss, and to top it all off, she has a cough that won't go away.

Xavier nods tiredly. He looks almost as bad as she feels. For the normally nonplussed Hunter to be like this, well… “That was…unpleasant,” he agrees. “Especially when it started pouring rain.”

As they step into the elevator, he glances sidelong at her, reaching out to check her temperature. “Are you okay? You look feverish. And you've been off since we got back.”

She bats his hand away. There's a weight on her chest, and her head feels like it's sealed tight with hot steam, ready to burst. “I'm fine,” she replies. “I just need a shower and to burn my uniform. No one should ever wear that thing again.”

Xavier nods his agreement as they reach Kiri’s floor. “I'll see you later?”

She nods. “Later. At least remember to get clean before you sleep.”

His agreement is shut off by the closing elevator doors.

She feels awful.

There's that cough again. It seems to be getting worse, more persistent.

It's bad enough that she pulls out her phone, reluctant and dripping swamp water in her entryway.

Riri💖 [7:14pm]: Zizi, I'm canceling tomorrow. Think I'm sick. Sorry for missing our standing date.

There's no reply.

She sighs and turns off her screen, tossing the phone onto the couch. Peeling the wet, cold clothes from her body is a sensory nightmare.

They slop into a pile on her bathroom floor. Kiri no longer cares, her uniform can just rot there. It's nasty, it smells like swamp funk, and she's pretty sure she's going to have to request a new set anyway.

Whoever designed these uniforms with a built-in corset was sadistic and probably also a Wanderer.

Thankfully, as much as the hot shower doesn't cure her illness, it does seem to help with her cough. She practically hacks up a lung in the billowing steam.

As she stumbles out, she can hear the shrill ring of her phone from the couch.

It's a struggle to make it there, but she does, tiredly pressing the answer button before she checks caller ID.

“Hey,” Kiri says, coughing. “Xav, I think I've come down with something. Make sure to-” the coughing fit doubles down, and she doesn't hear a response before the phone call suddenly ends.

Through watery eyes, she stares at the screen.

Five missed texts and a phone call from “Ice Prince”.

Fuck.

Flopping down on the seat, she groans. There's cough medicine in the cabinet, but it feels so far away.

Maybe she'll just rest her head for a moment, and then grab it.

Maybe….

Kiri wakes up to a cool cloth on her brow. The sheer amount of congestion she has makes her feel like an overfilled water balloon.

She blinks, blearily realizing she's in her bedroom.

“How did I…” she mumbles.

“I carried you,” a gentle voice replies, strangely muffled. Zayne stands in her doorway, a tray in hand. The lower half of his face is covered by a mask. He sets the tray on the nightstand, moving a book out of the way.

“It's likely you have pneumonia,” he continues, grabbing a home thermometer from it. “Open, please.”

“Likely?” She mumbles, opening her mouth.

He nods. “Under the tongue, and close. Good. When you answered, I assumed you thought you were speaking to your partner, Xavier, so I checked in with him briefly. I would have to do further tests at the hospital to confirm a diagnosis, but the symptoms he mentioned and what I've seen here generally tend to line up.”

She pushes his hand away as another coughing fit takes over, turning away as her chest heaves.

He hands her a tissue, and she uses it to cover her mouth as something frees itself, making her feel worse as her throat grows sore.

She pulls it away and groans at the gross contents, and Zayne sighs. “That confirms it. I'll drive you to the hospital.”

One drive later, and they're in Akso Hospital. Zayne handles the majority of the talking, although the poor medical receptionist’s eyes nearly pop out of her head at the sight of the lead cardiac surgeon holding hands with someone.

At some point while he was driving, he took her hand in his and didn't let go.

She hardly minds. Kiri feels like absolute shit, and she hates being a patient at a hospital on the best of days.

Time passes in a blur, and she's being examined and tested before she knows it. The hospital bed is sterile, the sheets are a little scratchy but warm, and she hates being put into a hospital gown.

Still, throughout it all, Zayne continues to hold her hand. His fingers are soft but bony, her knuckles bumping against his. She sighs, coughing, and goes to lean on his shoulder, stopping at the last second.

Zayne gives her an odd look. “Why did you pull away? You can rest on me, you know.”

“I'll get you sick,” she whines pitifully. “You have work later.”

His eyes crinkle behind the mask, and he gestures to it pointedly. “I put in some emergency sick leave.”

“But your patients-” she protests.

Zayne squeezes her hand. “-can wait,” he finishes. “I have a very sick one right here. Not to mention, you're my girlfriend. It's my duty to care for you when you can't care for yourself.” He tugs at her slightly. “Rest.”

With a huff, she settles her head on his shoulder.

For a while, she drifts in and out of consciousness, the sound of the lights buzzing faintly and nurses murmuring in the distance the only sound.

Zayne taps away on his phone, resting his head on top of hers. His breathing is deep and even, strangely soothing in its consistency.

Something pops into her head. “Zayne?”

“Mmh?” He makes a sound to let her know he's listening.

“How did you get into my house?” She asks.

He sighs. “You left your door unlocked. There was also a puddle in the entryway that I cleaned up.”

Kiri winces. “...sorry.”

Zayne shakes his head fondly. “You need to be more careful.”

Someone knocks on the door, and Zayne returns to attention, putting away his phone.

The urgent care doctor comes in, and Kiri closes her eyes, letting Zayne's voice wash over her as the two talk.

“-surprised to see you here, Doctor Zayne. I thought you took sick leave today.”

Zayne nods. “I did. This is my girlfriend.”

Something warms in Kiri’s heart at that, and she looks up at the doctor blearily, nodding.

He's seems taken aback, but smiles. “Oh, I see. You're Kirielle Atwell, right? I have the results for you.”

“Is it pneumonia?” She asks tiredly.

The doctor nods. “You got lucky, thankfully. Tests show it's pretty mild, so we can get some fluids into you and send you home with an antifungal medication.”

She and Zayne both breathe a sigh of relief.

“What are your recommendations?” Zayne asks. “I'll be taking care of her until she recovers.”

Kiri opens her mouth to protest, but all it takes is one glance from her boyfriend and she closes it again with a cough.

The doctor goes through a set of detailed instructions, and Kiri tunes back out. She's too tired to care, even as they give her fluids and her first dosage of medication.

Soon, they're back on their way. Kiri can't help but feel her eyes slide shut, her body trying to force her into shutdown.

Zayne taps his finger against the back of her hand to get her attention, and she jolts back to consciousness.

He snorts, trying to cover a laugh.

Kiri pouts at him. “Don't laugh, I'm sick,” she whines.

“I know,” Zayne says gently. “But I need to ask a question, so stay awake for a bit longer.”

“What is it?” She says, yawning.

Zayne looks at the road, the red light casting him in a crimson aura, glinting off his glasses. “Would you rather recover at your home, or mine? It might be easier for me to take care of you where I can be fully stocked on supplies.”

Kiri glances out the side window as the car continues on, mulling it over. They've got a little ways before Zayne has to turn off to his apartment.

In many ways, her apartment has become a dark, dusty place where she throws down her clothes and passes out before the next mission. Her workload over time has increased, making her restless and unwilling to be at home. There's too much to do, too much to see, and she honestly spends more of her free time at Zayne's than she does at her own.

It's gotten to the point where she keeps clothes in a drawer at his, and one nightstand has become ‘hers’.

Sometimes she feels like she knows his place better than her own.

Kiri turns back to him. Her chest burns slightly, her head swims, and all she can think of is how much better she would feel in a place that's surrounded by everything that belongs to him.

“Yours, I think,” she replies softly. “I know we left things at mine, but-”

He shakes his head. “I can grab anything you need while you're sleeping. I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Kiri smiles warmly at him. “I love you,” she says without thinking.

Zayne accidentally stalls the engine, whipping his head towards her. His eyes are wide, startled, and she realizes she's never seen him blush before.

They're lucky the road is practically empty at this time of night.

Kiri wonders what his mouth is doing underneath his mask.

In her feverish state, she adjusts the one the hospital gave her, making sure it's fully in place, before leaning over and pressing her mask to his in a pseudo-kiss.

He's still in shock as she turns away, looking back out the window. Her face is aflame, and it isn't just the fever.

A few moments later, the car begins to move again. Zayne makes the turn to his place, as silent as she is.

Finally, he pulls into the garage and parks his car, turning in his seat to face her. “Kiri,” he says softly.

It's all he needs to get her to turn. Coughing, she looks at him shyly. “Yes?” She whispers.

Reaching out, he entwines their fingers again, and she can feel the ice that coats his skin.

“I feel the same.” His voice is tender, his eyes soft. His hand trembles against hers.

Kiri beams at him. “I'm glad. I'm glad it was you.”

Days pass by. Zayne thankfully doesn't get sick from Kiri's antics, but something has changed between the two of them.

There's a delightful awkwardness that causes both of them to fluster easily, as if they were both lovesick teenagers with their first crushes.

Over time, Kiri’s fever breaks, and her coughing subsides. She's honestly never felt more embarrassed about the awful things she's hacking up, and whenever she feels miserably disgusting, Zayne comforts her and assures he's seen much, much worse. It isn't quite as persuasive as he thinks, but she's too caught up in the high of “he loves me back” to tell him.

Then, finally, it's over.

She wakes up with her head pillowed on Zayne's lap as he works, catching up on any assignments or patient updates that require his attention.

“Did you sleep well?” He murmurs, his eyes still on his laptop, perched precariously on the couch arm.

She nods, turning and burying her face in his stomach. “I think I'm all better,” she mumbles. “I can think again.”

He hums in agreement. “You sound much clearer. When you called me on the phone that first day, I could barely understand you.”

Kiri groans, pinching his side in punishment. “Don't remind me. I can't believe I didn't check first.”

“Would you still have picked up if it was me?” He asks, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Mmhm. You're my doctor, after all. You'd scold me if I didn't.” She sighs as his hand strokes her hair lovingly.

Finally, he hits ‘enter’ and closes the laptop. “Then should I drive you home?”

She hesitates. It's dark and dreary there, like a depression cave. Once she goes, it's likely she won't see him for a while.

Kiri wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his stomach.

“What's wrong?” He asks gently. “Kiri?”

She peeks up at him, and embarrassingly, feels the sting of tears. “I don't want to,” she says in a small voice. The logical Kiri in the back of her mind is mortified by her behavior, but she can't seem to bring herself to care.

“We'll see each other again soon. You know I have to go back to work eventually. There are other patients I have to tend to.” His tone is soft, and it only makes her feel worse when the tears begin to flow.

“I know,” she says miserably. “But it's not home. You're home.”

“Oh,” he says. The weight of what she just said hits him like a freight train, and she watches as it sends him reeling. “Oh.”

Zayne reaches down, pulling her up into his arms properly, holding her tight.

“Then,” he says carefully. “Do you…want to move in with me? I still won't be home quite as much, but…”

Finally free of her sickness, she cuts him off with a kiss.

His hands slide down to settle on her hips, and he returns the affection twice as fiercely.

When at last she pulls away, she nods. “Yes,” Kiri says breathlessly. “My home is where you are.”

Zayne smiles up at her, a full smile, brilliant and as blinding as fresh snow. “And my home is your heart.”

#my writing #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lds zayne #lds zayne x oc #kiri for oc tagging #my thought is they've been dating quite a while they're just slow to say “i love you”#also Astra only matters for the drama not the plot #astra when i find you astra #IT'S ON SIGHT

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