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cerisefait · 3 months

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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 · 1 year

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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

Note

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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lolhex12 · 1 year

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 · 1 year

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 · 11 months

Text

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

Note

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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my-own-walker · 1 year

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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ikaroux · 2 years

Text

Wake up.

Author's note: Ola ola ola! I'm going to start writing a multi-chapter book in a pure HAREM style! The main character will still be the reader, but in order to make the reading a little smoother, I've decided to replace my traditional V/N with Eve, which I'll italicize to let you choose the first name of your choice. It's more a question of personal comfort than anything else. I may also give the character some physical characteristics, like long hair or a particular eye color that changes depending on the plot of the story, but otherwise free to imagine the reader as you see fit <3.

(Not having an AO3 account yet, I will post on tumblr first until I can post on that platform).

Surrounded by the stars, your body seemed to float in a stellar water. Silence was the only master of the place, plunging you into a peaceful sleep. You felt so tired...

Wake up...

Your eyes opened slowly, searching with trembling eyes for the source of that voice.

Wake up Eve...

Distraught, you came out of your lying position, your arms flailing at your sides to keep you out of the water, looking around you for the source of that mysterious voice. A voice that was neither a man's nor a woman's, or was it both?

They need you... Remember.

"Who are you?"

They need you to come home, Eve.

"Who are you!?" You shouted, a hint of anguish distorting your voice.

An excruciating pain suddenly erupted in your head, forcing your hands to hold your skull in hopes that it would ease your suffering. Images began to flash through your subconscious. A world in the grip of war, men and women fighting with elemental powers, a divine entity awakening from a long sleep, a giant form hovering in the void more or less resembling an egg painted in the colors of the universe, an explosion, the birth of a world, the love of a deity for his creation...

Then the image of a being with androgynous looks, kneeling on a marble floor, surrounded by several beings dressed in tunics similar to those of the gods of the antiquity of your world. All this looked like a trial... or rather a condemnation... One of the deities was reading a text aloud. Her long, immaculate white hair resembled that of the god who was facing her accusations. The golden eyes of the one who had just announced herself as Asmodeus, guardian of the laws of the vault, were cold and merciless.

The closer the moment of the verdict approached, the more you seemed to feel a lack of air in your lungs. Your ears were ringing, making it difficult to understand what Asmodeus was saying to the assembly. Nevertheless, some bits of speech reached your aching ears. The words Celestia, war, Teyvat, reign, and death sentence managed to enter your mind before the reaper approached the condemned with his heavy axe. Your breathing quickened, you could feel your face turn pale and the sweat run down your temples as the kneeling being slowly lifted his face, once lowered to the ground, toward you. His beautiful face with feminine features was marked by war, exhaustion and abdication. Nevertheless, her golden glowing eyes, similar to Asmodeus, shone with intensity as they reflected your image.

Wake up!

The sound of metal scraping against the ground ceased as the axe rose violently above the god's neck. You screamed in horror as the scene suddenly darkened, the sound of severed flesh echoing in your voice...

You sat up violently on your bed, your body drenched in sweat and a choking feeling that made you feel like you were dying. A cough caught in your throat as your hands gripped your aching neck. Waiting for a moment for your breathing to return to normal, you then reached for the light switch on your bedside lamp with a trembling hand. Your heart was pounding in your chest, making you dizzy and nauseous. As soon as your fingers found the switch, a dim light partially illuminated the room, giving you a violent headache that made you grind your teeth. Awkwardly pulling the sheets off your body, you got up and headed for the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom.

You lived in a small student apartment, not far from the university where you were studying. Your living space might have seemed cramped to many, after all, you only had three rooms to yourself, your bedroom, which could barely contain a bed, a bedside table and a small desk. The bathroom, where you took your shower in a cabin barely thicker than you, an old sink topped by a mirror with damaged reflections, a toilet as well as a small cabinet to store your medicines, towels and cosmetics. Finally, the last room was a simple living room/kitchen, containing the bare minimum to live, study and eat properly. All of this at an exorbitant price but necessary to be able to study in the university of your dreams. This place had at least allowed you to fight your claustrophobia...

Exhausted, you were looking with a trembling hand for the pills for your migraines and for a sedative to help you recover. How long had you been living like this, plagued by nightmares, insomnia and constant migraines? Weeks? No, more like months. Swallowing with difficulty the pills that you had carelessly thrown into your mouth with a glass of water that you had left within reach for this occasion, your eyes red with exhaustion looked for your reflection in the mirror. You were a shadow of your former self, your complexion pale and your cheeks hollowed out. Your neck bore the marks of your fingers... A sigh escaped from your lips, letting the mist hide your reflection. Your eyes closed for a few seconds as your hands rested on the edge of the sink to support your body. Feeling your pills slowly taking effect, you slowly moved away from the sink and walked heavily back to your bed.

Sitting on the mattress, you reached into the drawer of your bedside table for a notebook that you always kept close at hand. Opening it, you could see old notes that you had written after every nightmare, every rude awakening. At the top of each page was the date and time you woke up. Rereading the last few lines of your notebook, the words Teyvat, Asmodeus, Celestia seemed to come up again and again in your dreams. Turning the pages of your notebook, you noticed that this was the case for every dream you had written down, with a few differences. Names you didn't know would appear here and there: Morax, Barbatos, Beelzebub, Buer, Paimon, and many others. Names that, strangely enough, also existed in your world as belonging to demons. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't really the type to believe in demons, gods and all those unreal fantasies, but a small part of you seemed to be marked by the dreams that haunted you every night. You couldn't take it anymore and sometimes had to resort to medication to make it through the night without nightmares.

After writing down what you had seen that night, your dark eyes turned to your alarm clock. Five o'clock in the morning... Your astrophysics class was starting in three short hours. Going back to sleep was not an option, you had to have a clear mind for the day ahead. The study of the stars, of the universe was a passion. A passion that you wanted to make a career out of, so it wasn't hard for you to motivate yourself. Slapping your cheeks with your fresh hands, you got up from your bed to open the shutters of the best room in your apartment, the balcony.

"Come on Eve, you'll have plenty of time to sleep when you're dead." An expression your mother used to say to you every time she tried to encourage you. Fatigue seemed to fade instantly from your features. Ready to face this new day, you went to the bathroom to get ready for an invigorating shower.

Packing your bag, you check that all your important items were in it, mainly your books, your notes, your wallet and, of course, your smartphone. Proud of your organization, you took the last novel you were on to satisfy your little romantic side. Checking one last time that nothing was forgotten, you left your apartment to reach the train station that would take you to your campus, three stations after your stop. Making a quick detour to the local coffee shop, you emerged with your caffeine fix in hand. Without looking where you were walking, you were already nose in your book, looking for the passage you had stopped on last time.

"Ah yes, it was there." Laughing softly as you reread the lines of the text, you wondered how the heroine of your book had managed to get herself into a situation where several men were declaring their love for her and who, on top of that, agreed to her having a relationship with each of them. How strange and unusual, but so exciting!

Your steps led you mechanically to the train station even as you were immersed in the plot of your book, sipping your hot drink between sentences. Waiting on the platform, you didn't notice the strangeness of the place. Everything was quiet, without a sound or movement. Even the wind seemed to have died down. You were alone at a time when many people were supposed to take their train to go to work or to study... Only the sound of the train approaching at high speed seemed to break the silent harmony that had been created. Time seemed to have frozen, like a taut wire ready to break.

Wake up!

You violently raised your head from your book, your eyes wide open, stupor easily read in them, your gaze locked on what they saw in front of you. The figure of a child stood on the platform opposite yours. Her hair, tied in an elegant ponytail on the left side of her head, was dyed white with emerald green streaks, looking as if it had just come out of a dream. Her pointed ears resembled those of the elves of the Nordic legends. Her lips moved suddenly, uttering words in a language that was foreign to you. Her emerald eyes begged you to help her... And just as you started to reach out to her, the train coming into the station made you step back. The strong wind that accompanied it blew your hair away. The space around you seemed to blacken, to fade away. Panicked, your eyes searched for the little girl behind the train, until a hand came in front of your eyes, obscuring your view.

Don't be afraid. Everything will be all right. You just need to wake up.

Your heart drummed in your chest and your breathing became difficult. Why was this happening? Why was this happening to you in broad daylight? It was a dream, wasn't it? Your arms wrapped around your chest, clutching your bag and book to it, your fingers tightening dangerously around your drink.

You screamed in terror as a force seemed to suck you into the darkness...

Your eyes snapped open as you took a deep breath of air. Something was wrong... You were no longer on the platform of your train, but in a sort of gigantic amphitheater library with a fantastic look. Everything was made of white marble, vines and flowers wrapped around the columns of the room. Books were arranged by the thousand, rising to heights that would make any history and knowledge lover's head spin. Lost, frightened, trembling, your eyes darted nervously around the room before coming face to face with a jade spear that threatened to slit your throat. Flinching violently, your hand released its grip on your cup, scattering across the floor of your still warm drink.

"Who are you and where did you come from? Speak!"

Your lips trembled as you couldn't look away from the blade. Tears were welling up in your eyes... You were physically and morally exhausted, it had become too much for you, you wanted to break, to take his weapon and throw it in his face. But fear froze you in place, making you even more vulnerable than an insect about to be crushed.

"What are you waiting for to speak stranger!?"

The tip of his blade touched the delicate skin of your neck, making you groan in terror. Your heartbeat became more and more violent, waking up your headache. Despite the fear and pain, you couldn't help but notice something strange about this man... The language he used to speak to you was totally unknown to you... Yet you could understand it as if you had heard it all your life.

"Xiao, put the gun down. This young lady looks completely terrified."

The black-haired man slowly lowered his gun without ever taking his eyes off me. His amber eyes held only distrust and ferocity towards me, leaving me trembling in my lap. The other man, the one who had called out to his comrade, moved closer to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He was tall, much taller than the man who called himself Xiao. His long, earthy coat showed off his perfect figure. This man, who had long, fine brown hair, slowly approached you, raising his gloved hand to place it on your cheek, but he was surprised to see you recoil in fear.

"Don't be afraid. No one here will hurt you."

The man turned to the seats adorning the amphitheater, and it was only then that you noticed the men standing behind him, looking at you with curiosity and suspicion. Unable to take it anymore, your legs gave way under the pressure. A flicker of concern crossed Xiao's features, disappearing immediately when he saw his friend kneeling beside you, brushing some strands of your hair away from your face.

"You are extremely pale." He looked around for one of the men. "Tighnari, can you take her over?"

A man with large fennec ears and a matching tail ran up to you, causing you to violently back away from him. The man stopped short when he saw your frightened reaction.

"What the hell are you?! Why do you have guns!? Why does it have ears and a tail!? What do you want from me!? Leave me alone... Leave me..." Tears blurred your vision as your throat tightened dangerously, preventing you from speaking. You felt your breathing jerk, forcing you to inhale and exhale with more force.

"I'm afraid communication is complicated. It would seem that this young woman speaks no language known to our world."

You looked up at a man with gray hair and a turquoise sheen. His eyes were a strange color, a mixture of light turquoise with orange pupils. Like virtually every man gathered in this room, he was extremely well built and incredibly handsome.

"If even Alhaitham can't understand her, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to calm her down." Said a man wearing an eye patch, blue hair cascading over his left shoulder.

"Aether... Maybe Paimon could help us decipher what she's saying. She did it well for you on your journey through the seven nations." The red-haired man who had just spoken looked at his friend with a tense gaze, his ruby eyes darting between you and the young blond man accompanied by a... small flying creature. The man called Aether rested his fingers on his chin, seeming to think for a brief moment before being interrupted by the little creature stuck to him.

"Hehe~ Leave it to me!" She said, pretending to roll up her sleeves. "What would you do without the amazing Paimon!" Some huffed, annoyed by Paimon's words, others just rolled their eyes, a slight smile on their lips.

Paimon twirled to me, bringing his face dangerously close to mine.

"I promise, it won't hurt!" She said as her hand touched my forehead, a white glow coming from it, partially blinding me. She stepped back as soon as the light disappeared, turning to the others, fists on hips and a proud look lighting up her features. "Hmph! It's done. Oye Bull-Chucker! Bow to my superiority!"

"Hah!? Come and tell me that to my goddamn Flying Lavender Melon face!" Shouted the man with horns, advancing with a threatening step towards the little floating fairy. Instinctively, fear made you back away.

"Say BULL-CHUCKER again!?"

"Paimon! Itto!" Aether stood between the two, glaring at them. "You're scaring him!" A childish laugh diverted your attention, your eyes settling on the form of a young man with midnight blue hair, wearing long wavy locks dotted with a beautiful hint of aqua color. His green eyes gazed tenderly at you as he knelt beside you, shadowing Morax and Tighnari who had remained by your side throughout this whole setup.

"Fear not, they speak loudly but are gentle as lambs. I am Venti, and the slightly scary man at my side is named Zhongli!" Zhongli gave him a dark look that he wanted to be discreet. "Tell me, what is your name?" Your breathing gradually returned to a steady rhythm as you listened to Venti's soft voice. The man, who appeared to be in his early twenties, like most of the men here, gave off something soft, reassuring.

"I-I... Eve... I'm-I was just..." You wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him about the little girl across the dock who was calling for help, the darkness that was engulfing you, your nightmares, that voice that kept whispering in your ear, telling you to wake up. But the deafening pain in your head silenced you, a deafening whistle invading your ears and bringing tears to your eyes. You dropped your book and bag to hold your head in your hands, bending forward slightly, trying to hide from the blinding light of the room. A hand came up hastily behind your back, rubbing it in a protective gesture. The touch was warm, reassuring. Raising your blurred gaze towards the one who touched you, you could not distinguish to whom belonged the multiple worried faces that surrounded you, and it was with a last moan of pain that you lost consciousness...

Xiao's point of view

Xiao let his weapon disappear as he watched the obvious pain on your face. He immediately thought that he was the one who caused your discomfort. He tried to silence the two rambunctious men, but he was quickly caught off guard by Thomas, Aether, and Diluc who were already separating them, Diluc using his natural authority to admonish Itto and Paimon. Xiao's attention returned to you. Hesitantly, he took a step in your direction, stopping abruptly when he saw Archon Anemo standing beside you.

Since the end of the war against the abyss, several years had passed, leaving all the members of the group to grow and mature with the seasons. Xiao was not to be outdone. After his body was cleansed of karma thanks to the traveler and Teyvat was freed from the yoke of Celestia, Xiao underwent some physical changes as well, growing a few inches taller, now reaching Morax's shoulders, so he no longer had to bend his neck to look him in the eye. Barbatos, or rather Venti, was not left out. The man was no longer a child, he had grown up, his hair had grown to his shoulder blades and his face had lost its childish features. Nevertheless, Venti had something that Xiao did not, a reassuring aura that seemed to calm your nerves.

As soon as Xiao heard your name, he couldn't help but find it beautiful and sweet. Without lying to himself, Xiao found you beautiful in every way, even if your facial features were pale and drawn by fatigue, you gave off a comforting aura... Shaking his head violently to compose himself, he looked at you again, forcing himself to think that you might be a threat to Teyvat... Xiao was ready to pull out his gun at any moment to annihilate you if necessary. Yet when he saw you collapse in on yourself, holding your head in your hands with a pained expression, he was one of the first to go to you, putting a hand on your back to calm you down. Your eyes locked with his, not seeming to recognize him. You fell unconscious, collapsing into the arms of Morax, who was standing in front of you. Before he could act, Xiao was seized with a protective surge, lifting you into his arms and rushing out of the amphitheater.

"Xiao!" Morax's voice sounded worried as he called out to his faithful Yaksha.

"I wouldn't hurt him." Said Xiao without stopping to walk. "Cyno, show me the nearest room to this academy." Xiao was quickly joined by a white-haired man, his head crowned with a jackal helmet. They were almost the same size, give or take a few inches.

"Come on, there's an infirmary not far from here. Tighnari will be able to take care of her once she gets there." Tighnari was already at Xiao's heels, quickly followed by the group of men in the room...

The hours passed while you slept. Dottore had placed an IV on you to inject a sedative, allowing your breathing to return to normal. Xiao watched you sleep, his face reassured as he saw that your body had relaxed once... that Fatui, Dottore and Tighnari had taken care of you. All the pain seemed to have gone out of you thanks to the potion Dottore had concocted for you.

Monitoring Fatui's actions, making sure he didn't do anything strange to you, Xiao continued to listen to the ramblings of his comrades gathered in the academy's gigantic infirmary.

"What a strange book. It seems to show a different solar system from ours. This blue planet... It seems habitable and... strangely similar to our world." Alhaitham turned the pages of one of the books you carried in your bag, drawing the curiosity of several pairs of eyes such as Kaeya, Pantalone, Albedo, Aether, Itto and Scaramouche. Kaveh rolled his eyes as he watched the group of men freely intrude into the privacy of a young woman without her permission.

"It's fascinating. Are there no pages about the life forms that populate this world?" Albedo wondered.

"Hmph! Even if you had that kind of page, you wouldn't be able to read a single line. It's so frustrating. Tell me Aether, your flying insect can't translate what's on it." Scaramouche frowned as he tried to read the funny letters written on the pages.

"Ah! Gnngnngnnn wait a little while until I find a new nickname for you, you stupid-!" Paimon got angry before finding himself with Aether's hand over his mouth.

"Indeed, the writing is completely different from ours. I've never seen such a strange alphabet." Pantalone ran a curious finger over the lines of text.

"You shouldn't touch his things without his permission. I find that very intrusive of you gentlemen." Alhaitham and the group around him gave Kaveh a cold look, making the poor architect who was leaning against the wall beside him shudder. Without answering him, they resumed their contemplation of the astronomy book he was holding. Albedo was the only one to get out of the group, however, heading for the bag that was lying nonchalantly at your side. There he took a book that had titillated his curiosity. Opening it, he could see your beautiful handwriting... With a smile on his lips, he quietly browsed the pages until his expression darkened as he "read".

"Interesting..."

In front of your bed stood Diluc, arms crossed, watching you with a concerned eye while keeping an eye on Dottore. Others were talking in low voices among themselves, avoiding making too much noise so as not to wake you up.

"What do you think Chongyun, what is this book about?" Xingqiu whispered to his friend while showing him the cover of the book. Chongyun looked at the illustrated cover of a young woman looking at the reader as she was embraced by two men who seemed madly in love with her. Chongyun felt a strong heat rising on his cheeks and his whole body, making his friend giggle. Kazuha and Heizou also glanced at the cover before giving each other amused looks.

"A highly spicy romance novel if you ask me." Ria Heizou.

"Nothing abnormal about it, many women like this kind of story." Kazuha's soft voice was far from mocking. He enjoyed reading, of any type and any horizon. He would never allow himself to judge the taste and colors of others. Childe approached the group and snatched the book from Xingqiu's hands, turning the pages with a frown.

"Seriously, what language is this written in?!" Xingqiu smiled with a shrug. He too had not been able to decipher this foreign language. Alhaitham, Dottore, Tighnari and Cyno had tried to translate a few lines, but it seemed that the alphabet used was completely unknown to them.

Varka was standing by a window, talking confidently with Pulcinella, Pierrot and Capitano, all three theorizing about your origins.

Not far away stood Razor, Bennett, Mika and Venti, all four sitting on a bed near yours. Venti watched you happily while curiosity veiled Razor's eyes.

"Eve smells like sunshine. Good." Bennett laughed nervously as he looked at his friend.

"And you Mika, what do you think of her?" Asked the young man as he turned to his friend at his side. Mika, surprised by the question, simply dipped his head in his notebook.

"M-Me? I don't think anything special... Just... Uh... She's... Pretty maybe?" Mika immediately regretted his words when he heard Venti laugh loudly, one of his arms abruptly wrapping around the blonde young man's shoulders.

"Sorry to disappoint you my friend, but I spotted it first!" Venti drew dark looks at him. Xiao sighed, crossing his arms as he continued to observe the scene.

"Xiao, how are you feeling?" Yaksha turned his surprised gaze to Zhongli who was standing beside him, arms crossed against his chest, keeping his eyes fixed on your sleeping body.

"Lord Zhongli?"

"I know you think you're at fault for this young lady's condition, but trust me, she looked bad enough when she arrived." Xiao looked away, exhaling a strained breath. Xiao lowered his head, the weight of guilt still weighing down his heart.

"Perhaps you're right, Lord Zhongli, but my stubbornness must have worsened his condition... I... Noticed as soon as she arrived that she seemed to be on the verge of collapse, yet I did not hesitate to threaten her with my spear. I saw in her an enemy. But now... She looks so frail, so fragile." Xiao looked at her trembling hands before clenching them into fists.

"You did the right thing, Master Yaksha. I would have surely acted like you if I were in your shoes." Xiao and Zhongli simultaneously turned their heads towards the one addressing them. Ayato was leaning against the back of a couch, looking at the sleeping young woman with a gentle expression, although it wasn't hard to detect a hint of sadness in it. "If we are gathered here today, it is to find a solution to recover what we have lost. I would have done anything to get clues about the whereabouts of my younger sister, Ayaka. Even if it meant threatening this young woman with my sword." Thomas and Gorou nodded sadly. "We are not monsters, Lord Yaksha, we are simply desperate."

"We cannot erase our doubts about his identity. After all, we still don't know who she is or where she came from..." Gorou sighed.

"Conducting an interrogation would be risky, not with thirty men staring at her looking for answers she may not have." Thomas finalized. Xiao sighed silently, turning his attention back to you. He watched for a long time as your face gradually regained its color. A small smile played on his lips, reassured to see you recovering.

Tighnari continued to monitor your condition, occasionally wiping your sweaty face while discussing the strange pills he had found in your bag with Baizhu and Dottore.

"It looks like medicine from his world to me. What can they be used for?" Tighnari looked around at the box before opening it to take out a white pill. Bringing it to his nostrils, he used his sense of smell to try to find the components used. His ears perked up as his nose wrinkled. Dottore snatched the box from his hands, lifting the object above his head with a chilling smile.

"How many more interesting things are you hiding from us, my pretty?" He said as he threw the box of medicine into Baizhu's hands and then grabbed the device he had found in your bag. "Interesting... the technology of his world seems much more developed than ours." Tapping the screen of your smartphone, he exclaimed loudly when he managed to turn on the screen, showing your wallpaper. "Gee, you'd think you'd see a picture, but in a device smaller than what we know.... Hm? A photo with a man? Tsk! How can we remove that?" Said he, turning the device in all directions. There were buttons here and there, but it seemed that the device reacted tactilely to his fingers, which annoyed Dottore. Diluc finally snatched the device from his hands in anger.

"So stop sticking your nose in his business. Your unhealthy curiosity has no business here." Dottore chuckled softly, raising his hands in surrender. Diluc sighed, then deposited the device in your bag before fetching the rest of your belongings, snatching the books that belonged to you from Alhaitham and Childe's hands before finishing with the pills that Baizhu cordially handed him. He noticed that Albedo had already put away the notebook he had borrowed from your bag.

Xiao sighed as he watched the scene. Part of him understood his companions' curiosity, how little you had on you was a mystery to them. In fact, even your clothes looked different from theirs. He wanted to know more about you, your life, where you came from... Xiao let out a deep sigh again, making Zhongli who was still standing beside him laugh.

"Don't worry Xiao, she will eventually wake up." Xiao sharply turned his head away from Zhongli, his ears tingeing red.

"I don't care when she wakes up!" A comforting hand rested on the top of his head.

"Well, I, for one, can't hide from you that I'm really looking forward to finally having a conversation with her... Without making her recoil in fear." Xiao gave him a concerned look, admiring the lonely face of the Geo archon. He could sometimes show such sad and lonely expressions...

"Eh? Dottore, I think your IV is no longer working." Alarmed Tighnari as she saw you moaning in your sleep, tears streaming down your cheeks. Xiao moved away from the wall he was leaning against to walk towards you.

"Don't leave me alone..." You whispered in your sleep. Venti quickly rose from his seat, outpacing anyone who wanted to approach you by kneeling at your side. His hands took yours between his palms, trying to soothe your fears just a little.

"Strange, he should be strong enough to keep him from dreaming." Dottore looked at you curiously, a barely subtle hint of concern on his features, he leaned over you to better analyze you. As for Tighnari, his hand rested on your forehead, feeling your body tense up in your sleep.

"A nightmare?" Baizhu asked, also leaning over you. "Perhaps I should add some incense to soothe his senses? " Without waiting for Tighnari and Dottore's response, the long green-haired man left to get what he needed.

"Albedo, do you still have that potion you made for Klee? The one that suppressed his nightmares?" Albedo frowned, shaking his head. Tighnari stood up to join the alchemist who was waving to him.

"I'm afraid I don't have any on me... I... didn't have any... Unfortunately had no use for it until today." Albedo looked at you with a concerned expression.

"What do you need to make it?" Tighnari insisted.

"Product from Mondstadt and Fontaine, which you don't have in Sumeru."

"Tsk! Never mind both of you, the easiest thing would be to wake her up." Dottore cast a bored look at the two men.

"You have decidedly no tact my dear Dottore." Pantalone mocked his comrade with a smirk, causing him to growl as his ruby eyes fixed on him.

"You poor thing..." Pulcinella looked at you with protective eyes, concerned about the gasps you were making.

Everyone fell silent when a loud moan escaped from your mouth. You shook from head to toe, and before anyone could act, you sat up violently with a scream of terror...

From Chapter 2: In another world.

Cracks appeared everywhere you looked. Nahida turned to you, calling out your name before diving to face you, reaching out her hand to grab you.

"Wake up Eve!" She shouted as everything around you shattered like glass, letting the darkness rush in. Nahida was engulfed by a cloud of darkness, her last expression on her face begging you to wake up.

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lamuradex · 5 days

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 · 8 months

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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 · 1 month

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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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liz-allyn · 1 year

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Hi I’m currently curled up in bed with a horrible head cold and a waterfall of blood trying to escape my vagina. I need some sweet headcanons on how s&v Peter would take care of his honey while she’s sick and has a particularly rough period and doesn’t want to move. 😘

Katie I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well!!! I have a hard kink for being taken care of when I’m sick… I’m just gonna put that out there into the universe in case anyone wants to build a time machine to go back to the past and somehow rewire my partner's nature

I'm usually horrible at answering requests or responding to asks because everything in my house is usually on fire, but for you, I present you with Liz's peniscillin.

i said what i said.

Here’s what I see

Honey’s a night owl and gets caught up in little projects which cause her to stay up late. Problem is she also enjoys the morning so sleep is elusive. This usually works well for Peter because sometimes his work keeps him late, and when he finally comes home she still has the energy to spend time with him. She stays up late (hopefully not just patching him up), but also making him a meal, working on a gallery wall in the foyer, or making blondies for Bella’s bake sale.

Her late-night energy is part of why Peter needs to seek her out to tell her “time for bed.” She sometimes asks "5 more minutes?" Sometimes he obliges...if she promises to make it worth his while. Sometimes he gets impatient after 3 minutes and throws her over his shoulder to carry her up the stairs.

He notices something is off when he comes home close to 10:00pm and sees her slumped on the couch and snoring. It’s endearing until he hears a slight wheeze of congestion in her chest. He gently places a hand to her head. Fever. She’s still beautiful to him, but the signs of her lack of rest are evident. Her skin doesn’t have its usual luster. Her eyes are puffy. She's caught what was going through Bella's entire school earlier this week, which means she's in for a couple of long nights.

He brings her to bed and wakes her only for water and medicine. She tries to refuse it and tries to convince him "I'm awake now... just napping.... how was your day?" He’s not having it. He has to practically yank her across the bed and hold her to his chest for her to stow her energy and go back to sleep.

The next morning it’s worse. She feels like a furnace up against Peter. Doesn't wake up until almost 11, and once she finally wakes up, she’s startled at how late it is. She drags herself out of bed (like a zombie) in a rush to catch up on her plans, but Peter can see how quickly she runs out of steam. He insists that she go back to bed; and to take something a bit stronger for her symptoms, but she hates being sick and is stubborn about it. She does that thing where she sneaks out of bed like a kid as soon as he goes downstairs to work, thinking he won't notice her feet pattering around while she's coughing up a lung. By 3pm, she feels like death. Peter is not pleased with her refusing to take care of herself.

Enter FULL DOM!NURSE!Peter. She hates cough medicine? He doesn’t care. She suddenly doesn't like the taste of water? Tough. If she doesn't stop being a baby, he'll tip her chin back and pour it down her throat (and try to keep that thought out of the gutter). He takes her temperature every hour (with a thermometer, even though he can tell she's warm just by touch), until she gets bratty about this too. She doesn’t have an appetite? Well too bad, here’s Aunt May’s mishmash recipe (“ya gotta eat something...") and ("are you going to insult my aunt's memory by not having any?") which she balks at and says he's playing dirty. He can't disagree. Playing dirty has served him well so far.

Most importantly, he tells her to get back in bed and stay there. Is he a little forceful with his tone? Maybe. But she needs to know everything else can wait — the bake sale, the decorations for Miles’ upcoming birthday ("it doesn’t matter if he’s turning 17 or 7, everyone needs a piñata, Peter!")—all of it can wait until she's healthy. She whines and Peter doubles down. He sends her to bed and warns her gently, that if she can’t stay in bed, he’s going to tie her down.

She is not opposed to this idea at all, but by 4pm her body aches all over (not in a sexy way, either) and whatever sex drive she had is gone, blown out through a pile of tissues on the nightstand.

It's not that she's not tired, Peter can see it in her droopy gaze. It's that she's lonely. Once Peter realizes this, he cancels his meetings for the rest of the day, gets in comfy clothes and curls up next to her. She doesn't want to get him sick, but he's not worried about that.

They watch The Princess Bride in bed. But by the time Grandpa really gets into the story, she's fast asleep on his shoulder. He's okay with not moving.

Feel better, my sister in angst.

#peter x honey imagines #sickfic #💬 sugar and vice #get well soon

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ceasarslegion · 1 year

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Hey guys

I hate doing this i hate it i really do but, on my last day of work I watched someone get stabbed in the neck and his assailant sprayed bear mace all over the hallway at the security guards trying to tackle him. I've never seen that level of human fear and panic in public before as people scrambled for the exits, nor have I ever felt that suffocated before. Not even the delta variant of COVID made it hurt that much just to breathe. Bear mace is a special kind of agony that I hope none of you ever have to experience. I'm young and healthy and able-bodied so my lungs should be able to bounce back, but that doesn't make me invincible. My eyes are still watering and I still have a bit of a cough, but it seems to be getting better with time.

I'm lucky to live in a country with free physical healthcare if anything gets worse or goes wrong there, so I don't have to worry about that avenue. The main thing I'm having issues with is the mental toll that takes on a person. This incident occurred just days after I dealt with the cops for a different reason when I told off the wrong group of kids for being abusive to a service worker and they kept me holed up in a KFC for over an hour banging at me through the glass and threatening my life if I stepped outside. And after the stabbing incident, our head office wanted us to open up our store and start selling again as if nothing was wrong, as if we were making up excuses to leave early. They won't be covering their staff's mental health nor giving them any hazard pay or time off that our friends at the Starbucks are getting. Therapy isn't covered in Canada.

That was also my last day at that job, and while I have another way better one lined up soon, there's still a gap of unknown (but not long) length between positions during which I'm effectively unemployed while my new supervisor slots me into the next available training course. This was supposed to be a well-earned break for me to rest and relax, but I worry it will be overshadowed by the murky cloud of settling trauma. While I have savings, I have to make them stretch as long and far as possible since I have no income coming in and I don't have a set date for when I will again, just "very soon."

I haven't been able to sleep and I'm too nauseated to eat. I still feel numb and in shock to what I saw and experienced. The lingering bear mace isn't bad enough to be the culprit, as I've slept and eaten through worse colds at this point. I think I'm going to have to book an emergency session with my therapist, but his rates are a bit pricey. I'm going to ask the office about possible payment plans or if things can get at least partially covered under AHS in the event of something like this since it's a threat to my physical health if it's making me rapidly agoraphobic and affecting my ability to take care of my basic needs like sleep and feeding myself. Even if my old work would cover it (highly doubt it), I don't work there anymore. That was the exact date outlined in my resignation letter. It's just a shit situation all around.

But if you guys have the ability to kick me a few extra bucks that will all go towards therapy, I would be forever grateful for it. You don't have to, please don't feel obligated. I've gotten out of worse scraps than this financially, and if all else fails, I can beg my grandmother for some of the hoard of oil money cash that she sits on like a dragon. The problem is that she's incredibly psychologically abusive, but she's the only member of my family who could foot a bill like that on this short of notice. So you don't have to worry that I'll go bankrupt or anything. But for obvious reasons, I'd rather not compile onto the mental health problems I'm experiencing if I can avoid it.

And the job I'm onboarding onto has a fantastic salary and benefits, so I can pay everybody back once I have a reliable source of income again. With the amount of followers I have, even a dollar or a reblog helps immensely. And I won't accept anything that exceeds the amount a session costs if I get that much in cumulative assistance (180 CAD), so it's all going to therapy.

My canadian p**p** is .me/damodrawz if you can spare anything, but don't feel obligated.

Thanks everybody, I hope things get better soon.

#:((

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katrinawritesthings · 1 year

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Jonghyun/Taemin; it'll come back around eventually; PG

for @rollercoasterwrite and @summerofshinee jongsmonth : )!!!!

You know when you have a crush on someone in high school but you don't actually know that you have a crush on them because you still think you're straight and then you don't talk to them for over a decade and then you meet up again out of the blue and start dating

It's only been a couple weeks but he's already given up on trying to act cool around Jonghyun. He doesn't have it in him. Jonghyun is cool enough for the both of them anyway. Jonghyun also thinks he's cute when he's eager and honest about his excitement for life's little joys, which is a bonus. Jonghyun honestly thinks he's cute when he does anything; it's a little overwhelming. But everything about Jonghyun is a little overwhelming and Taemin is finding more and more that he kind of likes that about him.

How fucking great is this, Taemin thinks, bursting from laughter and joy and eager to experience every single second of life. It's just him and a friend from school, him and Jonghyun, alone in Jonghyun's house on a Saturday afternoon blasting hard rock and singing at the tops of their lungs. Jonghyun sounds awful, his voice not suited for the genre at all, and Taemin is sure he's not even going to have a voice at all by this time tomorrow with how raw he's grinding out these notes, and neither of them care. They’re breathless, clothes mussed, hair as messy a Jonghyun's room, and they're having the times of their lives.

Taemin was a little surprised when Jonghyun first invited him over. They've never talked much outside of 6th period psychology class, but the other day Jonghyun turned to him during a lesson and whispered, "hey, you like rock, right? I'm home alone this weekend and I want to listen to loud music and scream about it but it's so boring doing that alone, you know? Do you want to come over and hang out?"

And now here they are, full of adrenaline and ice cream, almost crying laughing because Jonghyun's voice caught on the last scream of Highway to Hell. He leans on his dresser with a hand on his throat, stuck between not being able to breathe because he's laughing and not being able to breathe because he's coughing. Taemin hovers over him and yells to be heard over the beginning of the next song, "You good? Do you want water or something?”

“No, no, I'm fine, I'm--” Another cough interrupts him, and then he laughs, "maybe-- maybe we take a break. For a minute. "

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Taemin giggles. Yeah, sure. That's probably for the best. He leaves Jonghyun catching his breath and walks to the speakers on his bedside table, turning them down to a volume that they can talk comfortably over. While he's there, something catches his eye. Eagerly he snatches the thin cardboard box off of the table and turns back to Jonghyun. "Yo, bro," he says. "You have glow in the dark stars?"

“Huh? Yeah.” Jonghyun gives one final, bracing cough and crosses the room to join Taemin. He grabs the box when Taemin offers it to him. Reading the back of it, he says, "I've been meaning to put them up on my ceiling since forever but I keep forgetting." The stars rattle around the box as he gestures alongside his words he glances up at Taemin, back down at the box, and then up again, this time with an inviting grin. "Wanna help me?" he asks.

"Hell yeah," Taemin says instantly.

"Fuck yeah," Jonghyun shoots right back. He scoots around Taemin to dig in his bedside table drawer. A moment later, he's on top of his bed, kicking pillows into the corner. In one hand he has the box of stars and a roll of tape and the other he offers out to help Taemin up.

For a few minutes they pass the tape back and forth, making little rolls and sticking them to the back of each star. Taemin stacks them into little star-tape sandwiches and Jonghyun stores one star on the tip of each finger and then starts sticking them onto his arms for safekeeping. Eventually he runs out of real estate and then he bounces once, twice, three times on the mattress and hops up, reaching high and decisively slapping a star up onto the ceiling. "Nice," he hisses.

Taemin agrees; very nice. And extra nice when a good song comes on the speakers. He leans down precariously to turn the volume up again and turns back around just in time to catch Jonghyun stumbling after jumping for his second star.

And just like that, they're laughing again, laughing and singing and jumping and falling into each other's arms over and over again. Jonghyun has always been so big, big and loud and vibrant, but every time Taemin grabs his arms to steady him he feels so small, so thin and frail, almost. Taemin never noticed how skinny he was before. And up close together like this, the few inches that he has on Jonghyun are that much more obvious. Even more so when Jonghyun grins up at him with those huge brown eyes of his.

Jonghyun's face is pink, cheeks flushed from the exercise. It's a very pretty look on him. Taemin has seen Jonghyun flirting with a lot of the girls at school and he knows that Jonghyun dates around. Taemin can't help but think about how lucky those girls must be. Being with Jonghyun must be a real catch.

"You good?"

“Huh?” Taemin blinks, shaking his head; Jonghyun is standing still, peering up at him, holding his arm, eyebrows raised over a strange little smile. Oh. Oh. Taemin must have gotten lost in his thoughts. "Sorry," he says. "Zoned out for a minute, I guess."

"Okay," Jonghyun chuckles. "Just checking. You do that sometimes, I've noticed. It's cute.”

“Oh.” Heat blooms fast into Taemin's face, radiates from his chest. He's not used to being complimented. Especially not by guys that he's just been thinking about how much he admires. He looks away, covering his nose with the back of his hand. "Thanks," he says. Before he embarrasses himself further, he asks, "Can I have some of these? "

“Uh,” Jonghyun says. His face falls a little, but Taemin only catches it for a second before he’s smiling again. "Yeah, of course," he says. "I don't have enough tape for all of them. You can have whatever's left."

Fuck yeah. Taemin jumps up and slaps a star to the ceiling in celebration. When he comes back down, Jonghyun hasn't moved. "Can i," he starts, and then hesitates, and then says, "can I get the tape, by the way? I need more.” he holds up his empty arms to demonstrate.

Taemin grabs the tape out of his hoodie pocket and their fingers brush when he passes it over.

How fucking great is this, Taemin thinks, exhausted and fed up and counting every single second until his shift is over. It's just him and a client, him and some sleeveless buff tattooed schmuck walking up to his window instead of any of the other open desks in the bank and putting his sunglasses up on his head.

He takes a big boy breath and puts on his customer service face and says, "Hi! How can I help? "

“Hey,” they smile. It's almost unnervingly charming and Taemin tries his very hardest to not let that soften him. "I need to deposit some cash and a check and also I want to open up a new account. I, uh.” they scratch the side of their head and glance at the self-service counter. "I tried to use the machine to deposit the money but it wouldn't work?”

“Yeah, it messes up a lot," Taemin says. It messes up every single fucking day and every time they try to report it and get it fixed they get ignored. So every fucking day, they get clients in here complain to them about it. At least this one isn't being an asshole about it, Taemin thinks as he takes their paperwork and gets to work. At least they're handsome.

More than handsome, actually. Familiar, maybe, but Taemin can't put his-- “Jonghyun?" Taemin stares with wide eyes down at the client’s ID card. Jonghyun’s ID card. Kim Jonghyun. "Jonghyun from psychology class?" He looks up in excited disbelief. No way-- but yeah, even with those scrunched eyebrows and that confused frown, that's definitely Jonghyun, all grown up and handsome. Holy shit. "It's-- I'm Taemin," he clarifies. "From high school. Remember?"

And just like that, Jonghyun’s face lights up with realization. “Oh, shit, that is you," he exclaims. He breaks into a dazzling smile, all teeth and glittering eyes behind his lashes. "It's been forever, my dude." He reaches across the desk and Taemin takes his hand without hesitation, locking their fingers together for the first time in over a decade. His hand is warm and strong and at the same time, somehow, just like when they were kids, little and gentle.

“You look…,” Taemin starts, glancing Jonghyun up and down again now that he actually has a frame of reference. He looks handsome, square jaw, filled out shoulders, defined arms, colorful tattoos, silver hair. "Everything. Great. You look cool." He looks about as cool as Taemin sounds uncool right now and Taemin does his very best to not scrunch up in embarrassment. He swears he's better at talking than this.

Thankfully, Jonghyun doesn't comment on it. He rubs the back of his neck and smirks, not humble but not arrogant either. "Thanks,” he says. "I'm, like. Confident and hot now. It's great.”

“Hell yeah, dude," Taemin says. That's fantastic. “Me too. "

"Yeah, I was going to say, I like your hair and your eyebrows."Jonghyun gestures to Taemin's long black and silver extensions, then to his own eyebrows to imply the little slits Taemin has cut into his. Taemin grins the way he does whenever anyone compliments his gay eyebrows. He loves when people notice them.

“Thanks," he grins. Remembering all of the paperwork between them, he gets back to depositing Jonghyun’s money. "How have you been, though? Besides getting hot," he adds, quirking an eyebrow.

Jonghyun raises one back. Taemin tries his very hardest to not get his hopes up that they're flirting. "Well, you know, besides that," Jonghyun says loftily. Then he sighs, a big puff of air through his lips, and rolls his eyes. "I've been doing all of this fucking paperwork. Family legal stuff. Annoying.” He waves his hand like he's trying to wave away the bother of it all. "Apart from that, though. I've been making music. I have a little album out for sale. I teach guitar lessons for kids. Got a dog. Became gay. The usual."

“Whoa, gay people real?" Taemin asks, the meme automatically falling out of his mouth. The actual realization hits him a second later, along with the excitement, the hope, the curiosity, and he very quickly tries to repress all of it.

Well. Maybe not all of it. "You, the ladies man?" he asks, hopefully more teasing than eager.

“I mean, I am still very much a woman enjoyer," Jonghyun smirks, "but now I also enjoy everyone else.”

“Yo, me too," Taemin says. Maybe they were flirting after all. He holds his fist out for a bump, the absolute coolest thing anyone could possibly do in this scenario. "Bi rights."

Jonghyun glances at his fist, smothers a smile behind his hand, and taps his own fist against it. "Bi pan solidarity," he agrees.

Fuck yeah. Always nice to have solidarity with a hot babe that he used to be friends with. Done with making Jonghyun’s deposit, Taemin returns his paperwork across the desk. "You'll have to talk to an accountant if you want to open up a new account," he says. He points to the waiting area behind Jonghyun. "If you sign up on the list someone should come help you. "

“Oh, sweet,” Jonghyun says. He glances over his shoulder for just a second as he's gathering up his stuff. Then he leans on the desk, smiling at Taemin, a disarming and charming smile, a smile that Taemin remembers pointed at all of the girls during high school. Immediately Taemin blushes, and then blushes harder because he never blushes. "So," Jonghyun says. His eyes travel over Taemin's face. He definitely sees the blush. "Speaking of being hot and confident now. I wanted to ask you out so bad in high school but I could never work up the courage to do it.”

“Damn, really? Wild,” Taemin says on autopilot. Thankfully, he doesn't add on that in the past few years he's realized that back in high school Jonghyun was one of the first people that made Taemin start questioning his own sexuality. He sure does think it though, especially when Jonghyun bites his lip and looks at him through his eyelashes.

“Yeah, really,” he says. “I don't want to ask you out when you're at work or whatever because, like. Yikes.” He chuckles, and Taemin at least breaks out of his trance enough to join him. Yeah. Yeah, that would be pretty yikes. “But,” Jonghyun continues, “do you want to hang out sometime? Platonically. Catch up more. And then maybe if we want to do some gay shit after that we'll figure it out then. Yeah?"

“Yeah,” Taemin says. A chance to catch up with an absolute babe and maybe he’ll get to do some gay shit after it? Definitely yeah.

How fucking great is this, Taemin thinks, giddy with butterflies and wonder and discovering a new excitement every single second. It's just him and his date, him and an old friend turned new love guiding him by the hand underneath twinkling carnival lights. He's never actually been to this little faire despite it coming around town every year. He used to regret that, but now, with Jonghyun smiling at him over his shoulder, Taemin is glad that he's getting to spend his first time here tonight.

Glad, but getting pretty tired. He's kind of introverted himself over the years so now going out and actually doing things takes a lot out of him. At the same time, he doesn't want to leave yet. Not while they're having such a great time. Not one Jonghyun literally just said that it's so romantic to be walking around here at night with all of the pretty lights everywhere.

Taemin glances around for something that can do that involves them sitting down and chilling for a while. A little in the distance, overlooking the carnival, is a small grass hill with a tree and a single glowing orange lamp on top. Perfect. He points at it, tugging Jonghyun's hand and attention away from the nearest plushie ring toss game.

"Want to go take a break?" he asks. "I bet we could see the stars better from over there." The stars thing is cheating, maybe, but Taemin thinks he can use his new babe’s affection for space in his own favor every once in a while.

Especially when Jonghyun glances up at the sky and for just that one single second, the stars reflect in his eyes, glittering prettier than the entire carnival. "Sure,” he smiles. "Let's get some snacks first."

"Ooh, I love snacks," Taemin hisses. It's only been a couple weeks but he's already given up on trying to act cool around Jonghyun. He doesn't have it in him. Jonghyun is cool enough for the both of them anyway. Jonghyun also thinks he's cute when he's eager and honest about his excitement for life's little joys, which is a bonus. Jonghyun honestly thinks he's cute when he does anything; it's a little overwhelming. But everything about Jonghyun is a little overwhelming and Taemin is finding more and more that he kind of likes that about him.

Five minutes later and they're trudging up the hill, churros in hand. Taemin does his very best to not collapse into the grass next to Jonghyun, taking his time to sit down carefully. Once he’s settled, Jonghyun scoots closer so their sides touch, linking their arms together and smiling at Taemin through his lashes. It's so fucking pretty when he does that. Taemin hates that it makes him blush every time. And he knows that Jonghyun knows. And he knows that Jonghyun is doing it on purpose.

Taemin focuses very intently on devouring his churro instead of Jonghyun’s smug smile.

Somehow Jonghyun still finishes his food before him, dusting sugar off of his hands before lying down in the grass without a care. Taemin, on his part, cares very much about laying down in the grass. There are bugs in there. Sitting in it in his clothes he's fine with, but putting his head there? He wipes his hands on his pants nervously.

“Here.” Jonghyun lays his right arm out, offering his bicep as a pillow. Grateful, Taemin accepts. His head is still too near the grass, but he can handle it with the extra comfort.

Jonghyun's newfound hotness isn't just metaphorical; it's literal, too, his skin warm underneath Taemin’s head. His cheek next to Taemin’s radiates heat, though that might also be related to the faint blush that Taemin caught while he was readjusting himself. At least he's not the only one getting flustered tonight.

The stars above are tiny, yellow white pinpricks in an endless black void. Taemin looks from star to star, drawing one long, continuous, jerky line across the sky. It helps distract him from getting lost in the void, and then overwhelmed by the void, and then suddenly realizing that he can't breathe. He'd like to keep that fun little fact about himself from Jonghyun if at all possible. At least until he can be certain that Jonghyun won't get offended that he's scared of space.

“Look,” Jonghyun says, pointing with his left hand. He draws a Y shape in the sky. Taemin tilts his head so that their points of view match up more, desperately trying to find the constellation Jonghyun is trying to show him before the infinite abyss of nothingness finds him. “Cancer," Jonghyun says. "That's you, right? July?”

“Uh,” Taemin says. He thinks being told which constellation he's looking for was supposed to help, but he can't for the life of him find a little crab up there. "Yeah," he says. That's him.

Jonghyun moves his hand, pointing somewhere else in the sky and drawing another shape. "That one's gemini,” he says, and then points somewhere else entirely, "and that kind of scrumble is leo. The one that looks like a fucked up clothes hanger, see?”

Taemin doesn't see. Taemin can't even find the big dipper, the one he actually knows. The stars are starting to blur around the edges, overtaken by the void, reaching down for him until the edges of his vision start to fade, pressing on him, suffocating him--

He scrunches his eyes shut, taking solace in the self-made darkness. Darkness he can control, darkness that stops on the other side of his eyelids. Slowly, carefully, he reaches up until he finds Jonghyun’s hand and takes it in his. Hoping so hard that Jonghyun doesn't notice that he's shaking, Taemin opens his eyes. He squints at first to make sure he's looking at their hands, and then blinks them open all the way.

One of Jonghyun’s new tattoos is a starscape on the inside of his left arm. Taemin has asked Jonghyun about a few of his tattoos so far, but not this one. He doesn't want to be nosy and he's already asked Jonghyun about one that Jonghyun wanted to keep private so he's been spacing out his questions about them. But now is probably the best time there's ever going to be for ask about this one, so he trails his fingers over Jonghyun’s skin and says, "what constellations are these?"

“Oh, these are." Jonghyun turns his arm so the light falls directly on his stars. They cover his skin, all different sizes and shapes, carefully designed and placed by an artist. "These aren't. These are just. They're.” He's blushing again. Taemin can feel the heat against his own skin. "They're not actual asterisms. This is just some gay shit that reminds me of my first love." He chuckles, breathy and flustered, and tucks his arm to his chest.

And Taemin, for some fucking reason, hears that and processes it and thinks about it and, all after just a few seconds, decides to say, "well, watch out first love. Now it's my turn."

But Jonghyun bursts into laughter, loud and explosive, gorgeous in the nighttime air, so Taemin can't say that he regrets saying it.

How fucking great is this, Taemin thinks, filled to the brim with nerves and anticipation and feeling more and more bubbles in his stomach with every second closer they get to their destination. It's just him and his babefriend, him and his Jonghyun, coming up fast on Jonghyun's childhood home to introduce Taemin to his mother as his boifriend for the first time.

He shouldn't be as nervous as he is. He really shouldn't be. It's fine. He's fine. He’s a good boi. Jonghyun likes him and Jonghyun says his mom will like him. He's met Jonghyun’s sister a few times in the past year they've been together and Sodam likes him just fine. And he's actually met Jonghyun’s mom before. Technically. Him and Jonghyun hung out a couple more times in high school and she was there once or twice.

But honestly he thinks that kind of makes it worse? How is he supposed to present himself as a cool and mature and responsible adult when her first impression of him is already an obnoxious gremlin teenager? He's still an obnoxious gremlin, but usually people he's trying to impress don't already know that.

He frets and worries and pouts the entire car ride and all the way up to the front door of the house until Jonghyun’s mom opens the door, hugs her son, and then hugs Taemin, saying, "it's so nice to finally meet you. You're just as cute as Jonghyunnie has been telling me.”

And then his nerves gradually lessen as, minute by minute, he gains the ability to believe that he's not a complete disaster and might actually be making a good impression. By the time they have a few minutes to themselves, Taemin’s stomach has almost calmed down. And good thing, too, because of the few minutes to themselves is for them to get freshened up before they all go out for dinner while Jonghyun’s mom warms up the car.

“Yes, she likes you," Jonghyun says dryly as soon as the front door closes behind her.

“Does she--okay, all right, sick." Taemin breathes a sigh of relief. Hell yeah. Fuck yeah. Always nice to have the verbal confirmation. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows; Taemin grins back, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Jonghyun had been close to annoyed with how much Taemin was worrying about this. "I mean, obviously," he says.

“Obviously," Jonghyun says firmly, but he squeezes Taemin’s arm all the same. "Come on. I want to see if I have any mail before I forget." he tugs Taemin through the house until they get to his old room.

There’s still the same bed and dresser that Taemin remembers from high school, the same curtains, and some of the same posters, but the rest is different. More posters, a new rug covering the hardwood, a different desk, and a whole lot of boxes and miscellaneous stuff stacked up so that there's only a small pathway around the room and half of the bed available.

“Kind of got turned into a storage room since I moved out," Jonghyun shrugs, flipping the light on. He winds his way through the stuff and picks up a stack of letters on his desk. “Nothing… nothing… ooh, I needed this… nothing….”

Taemin leaves him to it. He carefully finds the path to the bed and clambers onto it. Maybe lying down for a minute or two will help his stomach finally settle. Hopefully. He gets comfortable on his back, folding his hands over his tummy and staring at the ceiling.

The glow in the dark stars are still there. Taemin smiles looking up at all of them. The memory has faded, but not completely. He can still look inside of himself and find the exhilaration of loud music and unsupervised teenage roughhousing. The warmth of being liked and wanted during a period of time where he wasn't confident in anything that he did. The hilarity of remembering exactly the thought of, Jonghyun is so pretty and handsome and suave and all of the girls must be so lucky to go out with him and this is definitely a very straight thing to be thinking. The picture perfect image of all of the stars and how they're arranged.

Or, no. Or, yes? There's something about the stars. The more Taemin studies them, the more he does realize that he remembers their exact configuration. He can close his eyes and still see them in his mind. But somehow, they look different in there. They're not all alien green, a little glittery, corners and edges of tape peeking out from behind them all on a white knockdown ceiling. In his mind, they're all black, all smaller, on a golden tan back--

"Wait a minute." His eyes snap open and he sits up straight, squinting at Jonghyun. “Wait a fucking minute."

“Hmm?” Jonghyun doesn't look up from his mail. Taemin gets off of the bed, walks to the light switch, and slaps it off. The window is next to the desk, and Jonghyun pouts at him when he pulls the blinds down. There's still enough natural light left in the room to see, but it's also dark enough for the stars to be glowing. Taemin studies them, really studies them, and then looks back to Jonghyun.

Jonghyun is neon fucking red. He has his face covered with both hands, and when Taemin takes his left wrist and pulls his arm out straight, he covers his face with his stack of mail instead.

On the inside of his left forearm, just like always, just like Taemin has memorized, Jonghyun‘s star tattoos twinkle at him. They’re a perfect match of his ceiling.

“Jonghyun," Taemin says. Warmth spreads from his heart all the way out to his every nerve. He fills with emotion, with nostalgia, with enamoration, with adoration, with amusement, with disbelief, with more certainty than he's ever felt in his life, and all of that comes out of his mouth as, "that's gay."

Jonghyun has this habit, when he's feeling big emotions, to bite. Taemin has accumulated his fair share of bite marks and bruises over the year from it. They’re playful, gentle, a way to relieve pressure on the inside by turning it into pressure on the outside. But this is the first one that Taemin is certain, if he weren't wearing a jacket over a t-shirt over an undershirt, that Jonghyun would have broken the skin on his shoulder. He laughs through the pain, detaching Jonghyun from him, pushing him away, keeping him at an arm's length but not letting go.

“You really--”

“Mom's waiting.” Jonghyun yanks him out of the room with a hard grip on his arm, stumbling and crashing into boxes in his haste. Taemin follows, grinning. All right. Okay. Fine. He’ll just tease Joghyun about it later.

Well, he won't tease Jonghyun about it. He'll just hold his hand and run his fingers over the tattoos and smile at them, and Jonghyun will start blushing all over again, and that will be just as fun.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #pg #fluff #oneshot #: )

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