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coughdontfeelwellcough · 2 years ago

Text

For The First Time (L/ockwood and Co)

Summery: An easy job goes wrong when Lockwood fails to mention he’s sick, luckily Lucy is always there to pick up the pieces.

Words: 3459

Author’s Note: Hi guys, so I’m abolutley obsessed with L/ockwood and Co, and if you’ve not watched it on netflix yet, please do!! Its about ghosts, ghouls, it’s found family, there’s plently of whump and one of the best slow burn romances I’ve seen in years! I’d like to add this is based off of the tv show where all the characters are in their early twenties.

TW: Mentions of death and suicide. (mentions only in the terms of the ghosts)

I hope you enjoy!!

Lockwood had promised it would be an easy job, only a couple of type-ones in an old hotel, currently undergoing construction. It should have been open and shut, so why in the taxi back to Portland Road was Lockwood all but unconscious in the passenger seat and Lucy sat clutching an injured arm?

Stupid, stubborn Lockwood, that’s why.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have brought George?” Lucy asked, struggling with the extra bags.

“Yes, because if I had to listen to him sniffling for another minute I would not be responsible for my actions,” Lockwood replied.

George had been suffering with a particularly noisy cold for the last few days and though finally on the mend it was nice to get a bit of a break from his complaining about not being able to breathe through his nose. Even if it meant the added bags were giving her back ache.

They entered the hotel through a back door, a key having been left for them. It was clearly having work done, the walls were bare, the kitchen had been half ripped out and there were various bits of building equipment everywhere. They made camp at the reception desk, the front doors had been bordered up and sofas covered in dust sheets. Still they managed to find some chairs to sit on to drink their tea.

“Do you think this was a nice hotel once?” Lucy asked.

She’d never been in a hotel before, her family never went on nice holidays. They’d be lucky to get a caravan on Skegness beach.

“Hm? I don’t know… Maybe,” Lockwood replied.

Lucy looked over to see Lockwood facing away from her, his tea half undrunk.

“Are you okay?” she asked, thinking about it Lockwood had seemed a bit distracted all day. He’d nearly forgotten to pack the chains and they’d gotten lost on their way from the tube station.

“Absolutely fine Luce,” he said, giving her one of his charming smiles. Though Lucy couldn’t help but notice it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Shall we begin?” he said, checking his watch. It was past six and the dusk had crept in making the shadows on the walls tower over them. Lucy nodded and started gathering up their things, though she couldn’t help but notice his tea stayed unfinished.

“Where are we going?” Lucy asked, pulling the chains over her shoulder.

“The third floor, the reports sai…” Lockwood paused, stifling two sneezes into his coat

sleeve. “HI’TWX… HIT’SSX.”

“Bless you!”

“Sorry, dust,” he said, rubbing his nose with his fist.

“You’re sure you haven’t caught George’s cold?”

“What? Of course not,” he said smiling, his nose a little pink.

Lucy wasn’t convinced but didn’t say anything and just started up the stairs. The third floor was a mess, ceiling tiles were missing, wallpaper peeling and various doors hanging by their hinges.

“Looks like no ones been up here in a very long time,” Lucy said.

“It was abandoned not long after The Problem started, not many people felt safe staying in the city,” Lockwood replied.

Lucy nodded and started laying the chains in a circle in the largest part of the hallway. She’d not long finished when the temperature started to drop.

“Are you feeling that?” Lucy asked.

Lockwood nodded. “10 degrees and dropping,”

“How many are we dealing with?”

“Should be no more than three, two suicides and an heart attack,” Lockwood replied, coughing lightly. Lucy looked over at him as he ran a hand over his face, he looked tired. Even more so than usual.

“Do you want to sit down or something? You look knackered,” Lucy said.

“Luce, I keep telling you I’m fined.” She didn’t miss the stuffiness in his voice but didn’t have time to say anything as she heard a ghostly voice call out.

“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry…”

“Can you see anything? I’ve got a voice, it keeps saying sorry.”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t do it anymore….”

“Lockwood?”

A ghostly figure had appeared at the far end of the hallway and was slowly making its way toward her.

“Lockwood?!” Lucy yelled, looking around he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Then she heard another voice, closer and more desperate.

“Help me! Oh god… Please help me…”

Lucy drew her rapier and moved to the centre of the circle, where was Lockwood? He was behind her just a second ago.

“I’m so sorry….. Help me!” The voices were so close they were blurring together, Lucy reached into her belt for a salt bomb.

“Lockwood!!” she screamed one last time and then she saw movement to her left in one of the rooms and there was another noise, it sounded like someone coughing?

Lucy edged out of the circle and toward the room, rapier raised and ready. The door was already off its hinges and she entered slowly, keeping the creeping ghost in sight for as long as possible. She found Lockwood hunched over and hacking up a lung in the corner, he sounded awful.

“Lockwood!” she snapped.

He finally looked up to see her and even in the low light she could see how sickly pale he was.

“Lucy, what’s wrong?” he rasped, choking back another cough.

“I’m being cornered by two ghosts and my backup is too busy dying to help!”

“I’m not dying,” he sniffed.

“Then get over here! I’ve got one coming down the hallway and another approaching from the right.”

They edged back out of the room together, Lockwood sticking to Lucy’s left. Up close she could hear the congestion in his breathing, how’d he managed to get so sick so quickly? He’d seemed fine only a little while ago.

The visitor in the hallway had reached the iron circle, it was a wispy thing in the vague shape of a man. It was still repeating how sorry it was and something seemed to drip from it like it might have been bleeding. Lockwood threw a salt bomb at it and it disappeared as Lucy went after the one in the right hand room. It was larger than the other one, more fully formed in the shape of a rather large man. It hoovered near the floor like it might have been kneeling.

“Help me… Help me please…” It continued to beg, Lucy honestly felt bad for it. It must have been an unpleasant death. Keeping her rapier steady in one hand she got a salt bomb but before she could throw it there was a noise from the hallway.

“Lockwood?”

When he didn’t reply she swore and backed out of the room, salt bomb still in hand. Lockwood stood outside the iron circle, rapier raised to ward off a third visitor. This one had come from behind them and was creeping at a quicker pace than the others. The noise she’d heard was Lockwood, he was sneezing.

“HITT’SSHWW…. HIISSHH’TEWW…. HISSHHHH’EWWW….”

The ghost was getting far too close and Lockwood’s hand was shaking as he tried to hold his rapier steady. Lucy barely had time to react; she ran to Lockwood, wrapped her arm around his waist and threw them both into the circle, landing painfully on her right arm.

“Shit…” Lucy laid on her back, her toes touching the chains and sore arm across her chest.

“Thanks Luce, I thought I was a goner…” Lockwood said, breathing heavily.

“What happened? You were fine one minute,” she said, pushing herself up with her good arm.

“It snuck up on me, I didn’t see it until it was on top of me.” His voice was getting congested, his words stuffy.

“Because you’re sick and were too busy sneezing to notice,” Lucy replied, she’d just about had enough and was ready for a large mug of tea and a bath.

“I am not sick…” Lockwood tried to argue but it sounded more like “I amb dot sick.”

Lucy opened her mouth to argue but was stopped when the ghost she’d been previously dealing with joined them in the hallway. It seemed larger than before but still appeared to be kneeling, floating barely above the floor.

“I thought you’d got that one,” Lockwood sniffed, running his wrist under his nose.

“Sorry, I was a bit busy saving your life!” she snapped. Getting to her feet, Lucy picked up her rapier from where it had fallen, it felt wrong in her left hand but her right still felt pretty useless.

“On the count of three, throw a salt bomb at it,” she said.

“I’m out.”

Lucy cursed, she was going to kill him. She’d dropped hers and couldn’t use her hand to get into her bag.

“What do you have?”

“Magnesium flare,” he replied.

Lucy groaned, they’d been trying to avoid the use of magnesium flares after the events of Sheen Road unless desperately needed and it seemed injured and ill seemed desperate enough.

“Use it, just be ready to run!”

Lockwood stood beside her, his hair was everywhere and there was an unnatural brightness to his eyes.

“Ready?” he asked, putting his hand on her good arm.

Lucy nodded and he threw the flare, it exploded in a rain of iron, salt and fire. They ran down all three flights of stairs and out the door, only coming to a stop once they were outside in the glow of the ghost lamp. Lockwood was coughing again, so hard he was shaking. Lucy put her arm around him and guided him over to a low wall and forced him to sit. He finally regained control of his breathing though she could hear congested rattling about in his chest.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Why?”

“You’re ill! And you didn’t bother to tell me! You nearly got us both ghost touched in there, what were you thinking?” Lucy snapped, running a hand over her face.

Now it was over she could feel how much her body ached, her skin burning from where the magnesium had touched it and her right arm was still throbbing painfully.

“I’m fine,” he sniffed, pulling a well used tissue from his pocket.

He looked awful, a good few shades paler than he usually was, his nose was already bright red and his cheeks had an unhealthy feverish tint. Lucy was quite tempted to yell at him some more but decided against it, she just wanted to get back to Portland Road, plus she knew George would have a few choice words when they got in.

The taxi was surprisingly quiet, Lockwood was curled up against the window, the only noise being his coughing and sniffling. Lucy sat on the other side, her injured arm on her lap. It was probably only a sprain from the fall but it definitely hurt. She was still mad at Lockwood but looking at him, looking the picture of illness, half asleep against the window it was hard to stay mad at him.

It had just gone 2am when they pulled up outside No.35. Lucy had to help Lockwood to the door as he was shaking so badly, luckily George must have seen them approach and opened the door before they’d even reached the first step.

“What the hell happened to you?” He said.

“Just help me get him will you?” Lucy asked.

Between the pair of them they got Lockwood onto the sofa and under a blanket as he was still shivering so hard his teeth were chattering.

“Is he ghost touched?” George asked, looking over his friend for signs of injury.

“No,” Lucy replied, collapsing on the sofa beside him. “He’s got your cold and didn’t tell me, nearly got us both killed.”

“Jesus Lockwood, what were you thinking?” George asked.

“I dob’t have your cold,” Lockwood replied, though his point was nearly lost on how stuffy his voice was.

Lucy rolled her eyes and reached her good hand up his forehead, pressing her cool fingers to his overheated skin.

“No, but you do have the flu apparently! You’re burning up Lockwood…”

Lockwood groaned and leant back against the sofa, seeming to accept for the first time that he was indeed ill.

“Good god, I miss one case and it all goes to hell..” George muttered.

“Can you make some tea please George? And get the first aid kit? I’ve done something to my wrist.”

George nodded and they heard him descend the stairs into the kitchen.

“You’re hurt?” Lockwood asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s nothing, just a sprain. I landed on it when we fell.”

George returned with two of their largest mugs of tea, the first aid kit and a whole pack of tissues.

“I’m not sure we’ve got any flu meds, I’ll have to go in the morning and get some,” he said.

“I keep telling you, I’m fin’d,” Lockwood argued, though he was clinging onto his tea like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Lucy just sighed and opened up the kit, looking for something she could bandage her wrist with.

“Here, let me.”

Lockwood put down his tea and took the kit from her. He laid her wrist in his lap and began carefully wrapping it up until his breath starting hitching.

“HHHh…. hhHH…Hhh… HHHITISS’EEWW… HIST’SSHHewww…. HI…HIS…HISTT’SSHHEWWww…”

He sneezed into his shoulder, his whole body shaking with the force of them.

“Bless you!” said both George and Lucy.

“ No…Not… Done….HISSHH’Ewww…. HITTSH’EEWwww….”

“Jeez Lockwood, you sound awful,” George said.

“I’m f…”

“If you say fine I am going to kill you,” Lucy said.

Lockwood sighed, coughing into his fist. ��You guys are such bullies.”

“Only when you’re being an idiot.. Which is all the time,” Lucy smiled as Lockwood tried to scowl at her but he just looked like a sick puppy. They stayed until they’d drunk their tea and eaten a sufficient amount of biscuits then slowly they made their ways to bed. A good night's rest was in desperate need for everyone at Lockwood and Co.

So when Lucy was woken at 7am, a mere 4 hours after going to bed she was not best pleased. At first she wasn’t sure what had woken her but then she heard it again, a sound was coming from downstairs and it sounded a lot like coughing. Lockwood. Lucy got up, her legs wobbly after the long night and made her way toward Lockwood’s room. The door was closed but she could still hear him, desperate, hacking coughs that sounded like they were tearing at his chest. She knocked at the door.

“Lockwood? Are you okay?”

“Luce?” His voice cracked and he coughed again.

Lucy pushed up the door and found him sat up in bed, wearing one of his oversized grey hoodies and looking like death.

“Are you alright? I’ve seen type twos that look better than you,” she said.

“I think you and George were right, I feel like hell,” he said, leaning back against the headboard. Lucy did really feel bad for him, he sounded and looked awful.

Whatever bug he’d picked up had taken him down hard and fast.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

“Some tea would be amazing,” he croaked, his voice nearly gone.

“Okay, tea is coming up.”

Lucy went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on, she was surprised George hadn’t woken up at the sound of Lockwood’s coughing or the sound of the kettle but it was probably better if at least one of them got a decent sleep. Lucy finished making two large mugs of tea and was about to head back to Lockwood’s room when she saw him on the sofa instead.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“Thought I’d be comfier here,” he said, pulling the thick blanket around his shoulders.

Lucy just shrugged and gave him his tea before joining him on the sofa.

“Is it me or does this tea kind of taste like snot?” he asked.

Lucy laughed. “It’s you, you’re so congested you probably can’t taste anything.”

Lockwood gave a stuffy groan. “What kind of illness makes tea taste bad? That’s just evil.”

“You’re obviously just that lucky,” Lucy laughed.

Lockwood frowned and pulled his legs up to his chest, he was shivering again.

“Are you cold?”

He nodded, coughing roughly into his fist.

“Do you mind?” she asked, holding out her hand. She’d never asked to touch him before but this seemed different, they were alone and he was vulnerable. More vulnerable than she’d ever seen him and it felt weird, like they’d crossed into unknown territory.

“Go ahead.”

Lucy leant across and placed her hand on his forehead then she trailed down to his cheeks and neck.

“Your fever’s risen…” She went to remove her hand but he stopped her, putting her hand back against his cheek.

“That feels nice,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

“I should really find a thermometer…. And something cool for your head…”

“Don’t go..” His voice was so weak, so small. It was unlike him to ask for anything, how could she deny him?

“I’m not going anywhere.” she ran her hand through his hair, detangling the sweaty strains. He leant into her touch until his head rested on her shoulder.

It doesn’t take them long before they’re both asleep again, curled up together on the sofa. And that’s how George found them a few hours later, Lockwood snoring through his congestion with Lucy’s arms around him.

“Great, now you’re both going to get sick. Then what am I going to do?”

“What’s George complaining about?” Lockwood asked, his face pressed against Lucy’s shoulder.

“Don’t know, don’t really care,” Lucy mumbled, still half asleep.

“I said, what am I going to do when you’re both sick? I’m not going out there by myself,” George said, vaguely gesturing to the outside world.

“Maybe Lockwood and Co is going to have a little break, can’t kill us right?” Lucy said.

“As long as we don’t lose any customers. George I need you t…. HIST’WX… HIS’TWX….” Lockwood stifled two sneezes into his wrist with a wince, no doubt they were hell on his throat.

“Bless you, you’ve got to stop doing that, you’ll burst an eardrum,” Lucy said.

Lockwood groaned and blew his nose into a tatty tissue “I just need George to ring Mr Morgan on Thames Street and tell him we’ll be there next week and…”

“Lockwood stop it, we’ve got it. The agency isn’t going to fall apart because you take a sick day,” George said.

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Lockwood sniffed.

“Did Lockwood just say sorry? Quick Lucy, check his fever. He must be dying!”

Lucy laughed and Lockwood tried but only ended up coughing, hand on his chest as the coughs tore through his lungs.

“Breathe, breathe, you’re okay,” Lucy patted his back and forced him to drink sips of water until the fit ended, leaving him drained and shaky.

“I think you need to go back to bed,” Lucy said.

Lockwood nodded, looking exhausted. The dark marks under his eyes were worse than usual, especially against his pale pallor.

“And I’m going to go out and get you some medicine, is there anything you’d like?” George asked.

“Ice lollies? Mum always gave us ice lollies when we were sick as kids,” Lockwood said. He so rarely mentioned his family that it was a testament to how awful he was feeling, to be in need of such comfort.

“Of course, anything else?”

“Get him some cough stuff, I don’t want to have to drag his butt to hospital with pneumonia,” Lucy said.

George nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

Lucy had to help Lockwood back up the stairs, he was so weak and feverish that just standing up was a great effort. He curled back up under his pile of blankets with a sigh, his shivers finally starting to ease.

“Try and get some sleep, I’ll wake you when George gets back with the meds,” Lucy said.

“Hey… I didn’t say you could go.”

Lucy smiled and sat on the side of the bed, her hand finding his.

“Go to sleep,” she said.

“I’d sleep better with you here,”

Lucy chuckled, she couldn’t deny him that either. He’d made sure to leave enough room for her to climb in beside him. He curled up to her, his head on her chest and her arms around him. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched or even fallen asleep side by side but it was the first time one of them had asked for it, and maybe it was the first time they’d both start to think there was something more there. But in that moment it didn’t matter, he needed her and she would always be there to help pick up the pieces.

“Feel better Antony.”

#Sickfic #l/ockwood and co #snez #snezblr #snez fic #coughing #fever #L/ockwood is a stubborn idiot #I love them all so much

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mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years ago

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sick | jj maybank x reader

summary: you get sick and all jj wants is to take care of you

warnings: cursing, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of getting sick and throwing up, jj being so fucking soft

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

1.8k+ words

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You hate getting sick.

The first time you were truly sick was in fourth grade when you had gotten a bad case of the flu. The whole ordeal had scarred you so badly that even six years later you will do everything in your power to avoid getting sick.

The pogues quickly discovered your fear when a few years ago, Pope had told you he wasn't feeling good and you completely avoided him until he was absolutely healthy again. It had become a running joke amongst the five of you, but they all made sure to let you know if they were sick so you wouldn't catch anything.

When you woke up Friday morning with an achy feeling in your body and a runny nose, you immediately wanted to burst into tears.

Your parents had taken your little brother up to Pennsylvania for the annual family visit two days ago. It was the first year they had allowed you to stay behind on your own and you were so excited to spend the next two weeks doing whatever you wanted with your best friends and boyfriend.

Now, staring up at the ceiling of the Chateau, you come to the realization that all of your plans could be thrown out the window.

You are sick.

Looking to your left, you see your blonde-haired boyfriend drooling onto the pillow next to yours, soft snores coming from his parted lips.

You and JJ have been dating for over a year now. You had been best friends since he started mowing your lawn in middle school. Sometime around your freshman year of high school, you had realized your feelings for the blonde boy were more than platonic. It had taken over a year of flirting and your friends setting the two of you up before you finally admitted your feelings. From there, your relationship with JJ took off. JJ had a lot of emotional trauma and had a difficult time letting people in, but when it came to you, everything was just easy.

Even in your groggy, sick state, you couldn't help but admire the beautiful boy in front of you. As softly as you can, you use your pointer finger to delicately trace his features. It baffles you still how you were able to get a boy like JJ to love you.

You smile softly as his features relax under your touch. Suddenly, your nose starts to tingle and you quickly turn away before letting out a loud sneeze. One sneeze turns into three and you reach to grab a tissue off the nightstand and rub your running nose.

You feel a familiar hand rub your back as you attempt to blow your nose.

“What's wrong, beautiful,” JJ says quietly from behind you, his voice laced with worry and sleepiness. “Are you sick.”

Hastily, you shake your head. “No, I feel fine, J,” you attempt to convince him, but even you can hear the congestion in your voice.

JJ moves so that he is sitting in front of you. He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “Holy shit, you're burning up,” he says, clearly concerned about you.

The only thing worse than actually being sick was having people fuss over you while you are.

“I'm seriously fine, JJ,” you tell him, “It's probably just allergies.”

You can tell that he is about to argue back with you, but before he can get in a word, a sharp knock at the door cuts him off. The door opens and John B’s head pokes through.

“Hey lovebirds,” he says cheekily, “You guys almost ready to go down to the docks?”

JJ shakes his head looking at you softly. “Sorry man, I think we're going to stay in today,” he tells the brunette. “(Y/N)’s not feeling good.”

You roll your eyes. “I feel perfectly fine,” you argue despite the growing ache you feel in your temples. “It's just a little stuffy nose.” Your boyfriend tries to argue, but you cut him off with the raise of your hand. “JJ please,” you say, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “I really want to go on the boat.”

JJ sighs, unable to say no to you when you give him that look. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles rolling out of the bed to get your stuff ready.

Ten minutes later the five of you and Sarah are loading onto The Pogue. The bright sun above you increases the pounding in your head and as soon as you step onto the boat, your stomach starts to churn.

As Pope maneuvers The Pogue away from the Chateau and out to the marsh, JJ makes his way to sit next to you, wrapping one of his toned arms around your shoulders. He hands you a beer from one of his hands, but you place it in your lap.

The pogues chat around you and the nauseous feeling in your stomach grows.

“(Y/N),” Kie calls from the other side of the boat where here and Sarah are seated. “Come over here. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever.”

You giggle through your pain. “I saw you two days ago,” you tell her.

Kie smiles. “Two days too long, girlie.”

JJ moves his arm and watches as you stand up. You wobble slightly and he notices as your face pales.

“You aren't looking too hot, (Y/N),” John B cautions and JJ quickly stands up to help you balance.

“Maybe you should sit down, lovie,” he pleads softly into your ear. He guides you to sit back into your seat, crouching down in front of you. JJ cups your cheek with his big hand, grimacing when he feels how warm you are.

“I'll be fine, JJ,” you tell him with a sniffle, eyes closed as your brain pounds in your skull.

“No – no. We are going back right now,” JJ all but scolds you before turning to look at the dark-haired boy in front of the wheel. “Pope, turn around now.”

JJ sits back next to you and pulls your body into his chest as you feel the boat come to life. He strokes your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You vaguely hear him grumble about how you should have listened to him earlier.

When the boat pulls into the dock a few minutes later, your blonde boyfriend guides you off and towards the Chateau.

Before you can make it to the porch, you get a churning feeling in your stomach and you run to the nearest bush. Everything you have eaten in the past twenty-four hours is emptied into the shrubbery outside John B’s.

You feel JJ’s gentle hand running small circles on your back as he holds your hair away from your face. You get sick two more times before you sit back onto your heels.

“You alright, baby,” JJ asks so soothingly, his fingers reaching to push back the hair that had fallen onto your forehead.

“I'm fine,” you say with a sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. “I think I'm done now.”

JJ sighs. “You just threw up three times, lovie. It's okay to not be fine,” he tells you. “Will you just let me take care of you. Why are you so stubborn?”

“I just didn't want to be a burden,” you explain to him, not looking up to meet his eyes.

He cups your cheek, lifting your head so that your eyes meet his. “You could never be a burden, (Y/N), not when all I've ever wanted is to care for you.”

His honest words mixed with the gross feeling you have after spilling your guts cause tears to cascade down your cheeks. You choke out a sob and JJ quickly gathers you into his arms. “I've got you, baby,” he coos. “You're gonna be alright, m’kay?”

A few minutes later, your sobs die down and JJ moves so his right arm is hooked under your legs. He carries you inside and places you down gently on the bed in the guest room.

You let him tuck you into the covers and your eyes flutter shut when he presses a soft kiss to your head. “JJ,” you sigh, opening your eyes and looking in his cerulean ones. “You should probably go.” A look of hurt flashed across his face so you quickly grab his hand. “I just don't want to get you sick, J.”

JJ pretends to roll his eyes in annoyance, but the corner of his lips can't help but pull up into a smile. “I don't care if you get me sick, lovely,” he tells you softly. “All I care about right now is getting you better.”

You nod, not having the energy to fight back. “Well if you are going to stay anyways, can you give me cuddles?” you ask, your eyes half-lidded as you stare up at JJ. “I'm cold.”

He smiles, pulling back the covers next to you and slipping in next to you. You are pulled to his chest and you try to get comfortable, but worn material of JJ’s muscle tank scratches your cheek.

Pulling away slightly, you tug at the hem. “What's wrong, beautiful?” JJ asks in concern.

You groan. “Your shirt is scratchy,” you complain to him.

JJ laughs softly, but obliges nonetheless, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. You immediately snuggle back into his toned chest, eyes drooping in exhaustion.

The blonde pulls away enough for his eyes to scan your face. “You know, even though your hair is plastered to your forehead and you're a snotty mess, you've never looked lovelier.”

Your eyes open wide at his words, not able to comprehend how you managed to get a guy like him.

“I love you,” he says, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth lovingly. “Even at your worst, I can't help but still love you.”

Tears well in your eyes and you bring your lips up to meet his in a passionate kiss. JJ returns the kiss with an equal amount of love. It was nowhere near the first time the two of you had shared those three words, but it still shook you to your core each time.

Feeling the need to sneeze, you pull away a few seconds later.

You sneeze twice, going in for a third but it never comes. You hear JJ chuckle from behind you and you groan at the feeling.

You fall back into JJ’s arms, leaning your back against his chest, and the blonde boy wraps his arm around your middle and holds you securely. He presses a soft kiss to your head and you let your eyes flutter shut.

“Please get better soon,” JJ whispers a few minutes later, thinking that you are fast asleep. “I can't stand to see you this way.”

Your heart grows two sizes in your chest and with JJ’s arms holding you tight, you drift off to a dreamless sleep.

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masterlist :)

#jj fic #jj angst #JJ Imagine #jj x oc #JJ smut #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fluff #Outer Banks #outer banks series #outer banks fic #john b routledge #jj outer banks #sarah cameron

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plussizeappreciationfics · 4 years ago

Text

Series: Just the assistant..?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Plus sized reader

Summary: [Y/N], Tom's personal assistant knows that she shouldn't have fallen in love with her employer but she just couldn't help herself. When she thinks that her biggest wish is about to come true, a third party arrives and makes her question whether she'd ever have a chance to escape her situation and simply be loved back by the person she loves the most...

Warning(s): adult language

Word count: 2,3k

Picture(s) found on: Pinterest/Google

CHAPTER TWO: The boundaries have been overstepped

“I’m fine, just make sure that the stylist closes the door behind her once you’re gone” [Y/N] spoke into her phone before letting out a soft cough, her throat sore and itchy. She heard a long sigh from the other end of the line and rolled her eyes.

“Tom, this isn’t the first time I’m sick. So what, I caught a cold a three days ago, it’s not the end of the world” she couldn’t see the actor’s frown increasing on his face as he listened to her weak voice explaining her situation.

Hours before, the assistant had been tossing and turning in her bed for quite a while, her body not being at peace because it longed to be held again by Tom. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dinner, how intense his stares has been and how he suddenly seemed so interested in her. [Y/N] was staring at the dark ceiling of her room and shook her head in contentment, having a feeling that something special would happen to her very soon.

He felt bad because he technically had been the reason his assistant had gotten sick in the first place; After their celebration dinner, Tom had ended up not being able to fall asleep, so he had called [Y/N] over and they ended up stargazing in his backyard, barely speaking a word with each other. They just sat next to each other, shoulders and arms touching and looked up the beautiful sky with a faint smile ghosting on their lips.

By the time [Y/N] had returned home, she was a coughing and sneezing mess and thus resulted in her having to take a week off because she had caught a nasty cold. She was on her 4th day off and pretty much enjoyed not having to do much physical activity besides feeding herself and taking her medication on time.

“Tom? Are you still there?” the assistant asked, wondering why he was being so silent. The actor cleared his throat and felt his stomach churn in discomfort, the intense need to take care of [Y/N] making it hard for him to focus on anything else. He couldn’t have a good day while knowing that she was in poor health and discomfort, he wished that he could heal her with a simple hug but that was obviously impossible.

Her thoughts had been interrupted by Tom calling her, nervously asking her if his call wasn’t a disturbance because the world was fast asleep. [Y/N] gently told him that she hadn’t been able to sleep either before happily accepting his invitation to stargaze in his backyard as he had one of the best views.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here…Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Anything. I-need you-I mean we need you strong and healthy again” Tom added a quick fake cough at the end as he had realized that he was starting to slip, he had been thinking about his assistant a lot the past few days and had found himself calling and texting her more than usual, she reciprocated to his mood and energy though. So he knew that he wasn’t bothering her at all.

Her stomach was fluttering in delight and she couldn’t help but smile and stare into space. Something is happening, Tom has been very attentive and kinda needy of my presence the last few days…Maybe he’s starting to feel the same way…Or maybe he’s going through something and is gathering the courage to finally share it with me…

“I’ll be fineeeeee, just don’t forget to tell me who your costars will be on the play. Bye” and with that, [Y/N] quickly hung up the phone before releasing the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She had heard the slip up and forced herself to not read too much in between the lines.

“Anyhow” [Y/N] muttered to herself while getting comfortable under the warm sheets of her bed. She still had three days of peace and quiet and was enjoying them by getting as much sleep as possible and catching up with her reading list. Today she would’ve had a busy day ahead; Tom had 2 talk shows appearances.

She thankfully already had helped him arrange his wardrobe for the appearances through her phone and laptop, the stylist only had to come by and deliver the suits, which would be in an hour, but [Y/N] already had strictly (but kindly) instructed her to do her job and make sure that everything was alright with the clothes.

Tom had gotten a fresh trim the morning and had decided to let his long curls stay the way they were (because [Y/N] had voiced a nice compliment about the way it looked so the actor silently decided to grow it out a little more).

His driver was also on his way as he preferred to be driven to public events. Tom’s fans were known for blocking entries and streets once they’d know he’d be present somewhere. He loved his fans to death, but he knew that driving himself through a sea of frantic people (with his already bad eyesight) could cause a serious accident.

Everything that had to be done, was done. So, [Y/N] was able to relax and focus on getting her health back on track.

She took one final glance at her phone before locking the screen and placing it on her nightstand, feeling tired and sore. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, with her special someone lingering in her mind…

“What are you doing here?” [Y/N] wondered in confusion upon seeing Tom welcome himself into her home, his jacket already removed along with the shoes. He then made his way over to the couch where she comfortably seated, her phone in her hand and looking through her mails. She silently was thankfully for the shower she had taken thirty minutes ago because she looked like her normal self and also smelled good.

“I am here to keep you company on your final days off as I know that you have missed my presence oh so much” the actor added a dramatic sigh while sitting next to his assistant and appreciating her beauty from up close. “Of course did I miss you, I can’t stand to be parted from you for so long, oh my dear Thomas” she reciprocated his dramatic and sarcastic tone, although she was being completely honest.

Three days later

“Then we shall enjoy each other’s company before the hectic and busy world seeks our attention again, M’lady” the actor spoke with a chuckle, the bright smile on his face still very much present. He was wearing a simple pair of blue pants and his famous dark blue sweater, he looked as scrumptious as always.

[Y/N] had to swallow hard as she forced her eyes to not scan him from head to toe, it would make it obvious that she was attracted to him, emotionally and physically. These next few hours certainly would be trick and tempting…

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Tom suggested, placed his arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze for no reason at all (Well…we all know the reason, don’t we?). “Sure, you can pick one out!” [Y/N] spoke with excitement, euphoria pumping through her blood as she now knew that she was addicted to his touch. No one had ever made her feel so comfortable. She was a confident woman but to feel this extra layer of security and comfort just soothed her soul on the daily.

“We can watch whatever you want, darling” Tom mumbled, feeling a rush of contentment himself from purely having her this close to him. [Y/N] took the remote in her hand and opened the Netflix app, she looked through her daily suggestions and the top ten of most popular movies that were currently trending. Tom’s soft fingers were playing with the material of her shirt, reaching the hem of her sleeve and then smoothly drawing random patterns on her soft skin.

“How about Spirited Away? It’s been years since I’ve seen that masterpiece!” [Y/N] happily suggested, “Plus the movie also shows how love can be so strong, even when the two people barely acknowledge or talk about it. It’s all about the actions”. Hearing the short description had the actor instantly curious and so he agreed to watch it, despite never having seen it himself.

Both relaxed against the couch (yes, Tom’s arm still around [Y/N]’s shoulder, now having moved even closer so that their bodies were in constant contact), before the movie was playing on the screen. [Y/N] randomly explained certain scenes that had the actor a little bit confused and once he’d understand the reference or meaning behind it, he couldn’t help but lean in and whisper his thanks into her ear. To say that the tension was thick, sizzling yet light and delicate was an understatement.

[Y/N] slowly opened her eyes, letting out a tired sigh while slowly acknowledging the conscious world again. “Mhm” she mumbled, realizing that she had fallen asleep sometime during the movie. She was about to sit up straight when a strong, but gentle grip around her thick waist pulled her back.

Fuck.

She turned her head to look behind her and saw Tom sleeping peacefully, having lied down behind her at some point. He grumbled softly in his slumber before pulling her warm body closer to him again. [Y/N] felt like she was about to have a heart attack. But she still slowly repositioned herself in her previous position and stared at the TV screen.

She knew that they had overstepped a heavy boundary of their professional relationship. But did she feel bad? Nope. She felt so at ease, it was like his arms were made just for her. The current moment was one she had often dreamed about and to actually have the privilege to experience it was just indescribable.

“[Y/N]….” Tom whispered in his sleep, his voice low and rich with smoothness. He was literally trying to pull her into his body, his hands gently squeezing one of her stomach rolls. She felt his toned chest against her back along with the body heat he was radiating onto her, his head now nuzzling in the crook of her neck. When his soft breaths tickled her sensitive skin, [Y/N] thought that she was about to burst into flames. The acts were so intimate yet tender, everything she had always assumed about him now being true.

Tom Hiddleston was a clingy sleep cuddler.

“Fuck” she whispered again when he let out a content sigh, already having tears brim her eyes as this all felt like dream. The man she had been loving for three years now was finally reciprocating her love.

[Y/N] closed her eyes and enjoyed the amazing feeling of pure love and joy, she even reached her arm out and gently ran her hand through Tom’s soft curls and sighed in pure delight herself. She wished that she could stay like this forever, just the two of them.

“[Y/N]?”

Her eyes fluttered open and she (again) took acknowledgment of her surroundings. She still was lying on her couch, But Tom was now sitting next to her, along with two bags of takeout resting on her coffee table.

“Mhm? I’m awake” [Y/N] mumbled once her brain recognized the sound of Tom’s soft voice calling out for her.

“Are you hungry? I ordered Thai as it’s almost six in the evening and you haven’t eaten anything yet” his gaze was soft and kind. The assistant nodded her head and slowly sat up, silently comprehending that Tom had woken up after she had fallen back asleep again. She felt a pang of disappointment churn in her stomach once she also realized that he was pretending like nothing had happened.

“Thanks Tom, I must have fallen asleep. My bad”

But she also understood and accepted why.

“Nothing to be sorry about, I fell asleep myself and actually had a great rest. The past few days had been very stressful, and I had really needed an afternoon of peace and quiet. So thanks again, [Y/N], for letting me enjoy your company”.

Tom’s appreciation speech actually mended the disappointment she felt, she hadn’t known about the few sorrows and stressed he had had because he hadn’t voiced them to her at all, despite having texted and called her plenty of times throughout the day.

Wow…

“You’re welcome, Tom” was all she was able to respond before reaching for the takeout bags and looking at what deliciousness were awaiting her. She ignored his piercing stare, not knowing why she suddenly was the sole focus of his attention. It was hard doing so because she felt like his eyes were burning holes on the side of her face.

“You’re very beautiful, [Y/N].

She turned to him, a bright smile creeping upon her face as her heart skipped a beat. “Thank you Tom, you are handsome yourself”. He chuckled and finally looked down at his lap, a slight crimson shade appearing on his cheeks as he felt flustered and appreciated.

[Y/N] handed him the second bag of food before removing the items in her own bag.

“That’s amazing! Do you want me to book a table at your usual restaurant?” [Y/N] asked while feeling happy for Tom’s friends, she knew that he’d have a blast with the play and that sole thought left her smiling to herself while the actor continued to share the details of the upcoming play to her, still sitting very close to her and barely being able to keep her eyes off her beautiful face.

“By the way, I have great news”, [Y/N] hummed as in indication that she was listening while continuing to unpack her food. “Charlie and Zawe have been casted as the other two main characters in the play! We’ll be all going to dinner tomorrow!”

Tag list: @jamesbarnesappreciationclubub l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l l @harleycativy l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez l @ilovefanfic86 l @adorablespecialsnowflakes l @brittanyovens l @kanupps06 l @jazmynejack l @thebookwormslytherin l @theunsweetenedtruth l @talannalew l @littlexmissxfandomxlover l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes l @crimsonash330 l @booklover2929 l @aranelgrey l @panda-duuu l @thisismysecrethappyplace l @titty-teetee l @honey-anon l @princess-evans-addict l @hp-hogwartsexpress l @malindacath l @letsdisneythings l @scorpionchild81 l @shado-raven l @alisoncdariel l @plutoneu l @queenoftheworldisdead l @briannab1234l @miyaeadys-blog l @thenamelesscorpse2185 l @hihellogoodbyebruh l @nackrosor l @nerdgurl1985 l @2darkskinbeauty l @bugngiz l @african-melanin-goddess l @barnes-wilson-love l @ktiz90 l @let-the-love-in l @forlornfortitude l @robinredboob l @hopefuloperaangelnerd l @kola95 l @partypoison00 l @alwaysadreamingoptimist l @reniescarlett l @g0thicdream l @mayasopinions l @captaintightpants58 l @leillee l @kayleighsimone

-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston x plus size reader #plus size reader

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heroloverangel · 3 years ago

Text

Ice Cream

Ingenium will always be a great hero.

The parking lot is crowded when you arrive with your husband. It’s a warm day, and the new ice cream shop has a line stretching out the door into the grocery store’s sidewalk next door. You scan the list as you head towards the entrance and debate on whether you want chicken or beef tonight, and you’re distracted by two little girls running across the pavement with each other. The younger one looks about three, laughing wildly right up until she trips on a crack and tumbles to the ground directly in front of you. Her sister looks a bit older and immediately runs back to the crying girl, and you watch Tensei fall back into his role as a hero without a second thought.

“Are you alright?” He leans forward in his chair to look for any injuries. “What’s your name?”

“A-Ami. And she’s Miki.” she stammers through her tears, the bigger girl helping her to her feet and staring curiously at the pipes on his arms.

He smiles at them. “I’m Iida. Do you know where your parents are?” Miki nods at points at the line.

“Daddy said he’d get us ice cream if we were good and waited for him.”

“That’s nice of him. It looks like you scraped your knees, but I bet the ice cream will help.” He looks towards the shop and you can tell he’s trying to pick out their father. “I’m sure if you tell your dad, he’ll get you patched up and back to playing in no time. Can you tell me his name?”

The question is unnecessary as a man jogs towards you with a pair of ice cream cones, calling the girls’ names. “What are you two up to? I hope you’re not bothering these people.”

Miki shakes her head. “We’re not, I promise! Ami fell down and her knees are broke. But look, Daddy! Mr. Iida has funny metal on his arms just like the hero you told us about!” Their father finally turns his head and takes a good look at your husband, putting some facts together. The little girls take the opportunity to pull their treats out of his hands while he’s distracted.

“You’re not Ingenium by any chance, are you?”

Tensei nods. “I was, before I retired.”

He lets out a surprised laugh. “No kidding! I’m sure you don’t remember this, but about six years ago there was a bus crash in the middle of Naruhata. You’re the one who pulled me out and got me to the hospital.” He shakes his hand with enthusiasm. “If it weren’t for you…” He smiles and looks at his daughters, happily eating their ice cream without a thought to Ami’s skinned knees. “...my girls wouldn’t be here.” Ingenium, always such a laid back hero, waves off his praise but the man insists. “No really, I’d love to have a chat if you’ve got the time.”

Tensei glances at you and you gesture for him to go. “Stay a bit and talk. I can handle the produce section on my own.” You give him a pat on the shoulder and head inside. You remember to grab a few last minute items and make sure to stop by the pharmacy section for vitamins before you pay and rejoin his group. They’ve moved into the shade, and the girls are standing on either side of your husband asking questions as fast as their little mouths can move.

“Do your pipes turn on when you sneeze really hard?”

“Can you start a fire with them?”

“Do they rust when you go swimming?”

“Have you ever gone really really fast and hit a wall? I did that once. It hurts.”

You listen to them with a huge grin on your face for a few more minutes before you step in to rescue him. He tells them goodbye, shaking their father’s hand once again and heads for the car with you. Your grin widens when you realize you’re being followed by the delighted shouts of the girls thanking him for being such a great hero. You notice that the smile never leaves his face even once you get home and it warms you heart. He’s always been a little too humble and never did it for the praise, but it’s nice to get a solid reminder of all the good he’s done.

“Good day, huh?” He seems distracted and blinks at you for a moment before nodding. “Are you thinking about how adorable those girls were, too?” Tensei laughs and scratches the back of his neck, his thoughts too obvious.

“Yeah. You know, I’ve been thinking…” His gaze flicks from your face down to your stomach, and you can read his mind. You’ve been together for years now, and for the past few months you’ve been talking more seriously about the idea of kids. He’s made steady progress with his physical therapy, but the doctors have suggested that his injury could make things more difficult and you might need a bit of medical assistance to conceive. It’s a lot to think about, but you keep coming back to it more and more lately.

You stop and run your fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve actually been thinking, too. Will you grab that bag off the table for me?” He moves to hand you the bag but pauses when he looks down at the items inside. Iron supplements? Prenatal vitamins? A pregnancy test?

His eyes go wide as he stares back at you. “You’re pregnant?”

You laugh sheepishly. “Well, we’re about to find out.” The next ten minutes are the longest in your life as he steers you toward the bathroom and you’re forced to wait for the test. You’re not surprised when you see the result, but the sense of pure joy that wells up in you makes you feel like you might burst and you throw your arms around your husband’s shoulders. “It’s positive! Tensei, we’re having a baby!”

His expression mirrors your own and he pulls you in for a tight hug. At the moment, nothing else matters beyond your little growing family. You feel so lucky, knowing that your child has such an amazing hero to look up to.

#hero dadcademia #tensei iida x reader #pregnancy #bnha x reader

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unloved-cadillac · 4 years ago

Note

I'm a simp for reiner 😩 so if you're open to it, could you do reiner and a fem reader doing 7 minutes minutes in heaven? And maybe it goes further later on in the night?

C/n: simp for Reiner? You’re talking to the right person. I couldn’t decide whether to make this in the canon universe or modern au, so chose the Modern Au with 22 year old Reiner ;) Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

———————————————————————

7 Minutes With You Isn’t Enough.(Reiner x Reader Oneshot)

Mmm, party night. The night to unwind from the college stress and to just relax.

Senior year of college had its fair share of ups and downs. Now, after finals and weeks of late night studying and chugging down energy drinks to stay awake to study, it was all finally over.

After your final paper, everyone yelled and laughed at the relief of finishing. You walked out of your exam room and waited your best friend by the stairs. Your phone started buzzing with celebratory messages from your friends and others.

“Oi, Y/n!!” You lift your head up and look at Armin. “We’re finally done, Armie!!!” You ran to him and leaped into his arms to crush him in a bear hug. “Yes! I’m so glad.” He laughs out and sets you back down. “How was it?” He asks and you scoff. “Piece of cake. Yours?” “Same. Hey listen. Let’s go to the Waffle House tonight. I’ve been craving that chocolate waffle for weeks now.” He emphasizes the “weeks” while rubbing his stomach and you chuckle at him. Yeah, the both of you had almost little to no time to spend together so hopefully this break you two would spend everyday together.

You two were walking down the stairs and you bumped into someone on the way and tripped onto them. “Whoa there.” Says the voice that you absolutely adored. His large hands were set on your waist and your hands were on his shoulders. You lifted your head up and looked at your savior. “R-Reiner. Thanks.” You stutter out and straighten yourself out. “No problem. ‘Sup Armin.” He greets Armin and Armin waves. “Hey Reiner. How was your paper?” “Good.” He answers and looks back at you, smirking. “There’s a party happening at Annie’s tonight. Hoping to see you there, Y/n.” Reiner winks and walks past you, making you blush.

“Oh shit.” Armin whispers and catches your dazed out face from trying to smell Reiners cologne. “What happened?” You ask as Armin looks through his phone. “I guess we’re going to a party tonight. Annie just sent me the invite.” He shows you the message and your phone dings as well. You check and smile. “Yeah me too. Hey. Don’t you have a thing for her?” You suddenly ask and Armin stutters. “U-Uhh y-yeah. I’m hoping to ask her out tonight.” He whispers and your eyes widen and jump onto his back. “Yes! Finally!!” You excitedly say and Armin chuckles. “And what about Reiner, Ms Y/n?” Armin asks and you hop off his back and smile. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

~~~~

Later that day, you were in your room getting ready. Armin was sitting on your bed waiting for you. You had a pair of skinny jeans on a tight black shirt on, which showed off your curves perfectly. Your neck was bare and only had a simple pair of earrings with your watch on. “What time is it, Armie?” You ask as you touch up your lipstick. “Time for us to leave. Let’s go.” He says and wakes up from your bed. You chuckle and grab your jacket. “Where’s Annie’s again?” “Uh, a block from here.” Armin says while he checks his phone while you lock up your apartment door.

You and Armin walk to Annie’s house while chatting here and there. Armin was telling you about the “cute” thing Annie did a couple of days ago. “And she sneezed and I swear my heart busted the fastest UwU everrr.” He explains and holds his cheeks making you giggle at his shyness. “Oh Armie.” You exhale a laugh while patting his back. Few minutes later, you both heard loud ass music coming from a house with party lights and dozens of cars in the driveway.

“This is it.” Armin says and walks with you up the driveway.

A lot of people were already there and one of them being Eren. “Y/n! Armin!” He waves and takes a sip of his drink. You smile and hug him and Armin shakes his hand. “Where’s Mikasa?” Armin asks looking around. “Upstairs. She’ll be down in a minute. But let’s go get you both a drink, yeah?” Eren says as he wraps his free arm around your neck. The three of you walk into the house and man, the music was blasting. Alcohol everywhere. It really was the perfect party.

Eren pours you and Armin drinks and hands them to you. “Y/n. You look good. Really good. Been working out?” Eren asks as you sip your drink. “Little bit. But I’ll get back into it now that finals are over. Thanks.” You smile and Armin locks eyes with Annie. She leaves her group of friends and walks over to him. Armin nudges your side, earning your attention with pain. “Ow, asshole. What?” You ask him and look in the direction he was and see Annie. She waves at you and you wave back. “Annie!” You throw your arms around her and hug her while she hugs back. “Thanks for coming.” She tells you and you smile. “Thanks for the invite.” As you were about to pull away, she locks you back in. “Reiner will be here in a couple of minutes.” She whispers and pulls back to see your blushing face. You nod and Annie goes to Armin. “Hi.” She greets him. “Hi.” He responds and she hugs him.

You turn to look at the pair and smile at Armin. Annie whispers something in his ear which made him turn red in a second. She takes his hand and drags him away from you. You wave a goodbye and sip your drink while looking around to see all familiar faces. Ymir and Christa on the couch, Connie and Sasha eating the snacks, and many more. You leaned against the counter when you heard someone scream:

“REINER!!!!!!”

You almost drop your cup at the yelling but look towards the door where a very drunk Colt drags Reiner in the house. “Everyone! Reiner’s here!” He yells out and everyone cheers. Reiner chuckles to himself and looks around, and his eyes land on you. You smirk behind your cup while holding eye contact with the tall man.

Reiner left his friends and stalked his way over to you, making your heart beat fast in your chest. You may look composed on the outside, but on the inside your butterflies surfaced. Reiner stands in front of you and leans forward, and reaches behind you for a cup. His front was almost pressed against yours but his neck was right in front of your face. God he smelled amazing.

He leans back and looks at you. “Hey, Y/n.” He greeted and you flickered your eyes back and forth from his eyes to his lips. “Hi, Reiner.” You breathe out and he smiles at your nervousness. ”We’re finally done with finals, huh?” He says and looks at your lips. “Yeah. Finally.” You whisper. As he leans into you, a shout of both of your names startle you. “Reiner! Y/n! Come on. We’re gonna play some games!” Marcel calls and the both of you pull away. Reiner clears his throat at the awkward tension. “Shall we?” He motions to the lounge and you nod. “Yeah.”

The both of you went into the lounge where a circle of people formed. Luckily, it was everyone that knew. An open seat was next to Armin and you took it. Reiner sat next to Porco who was across from you. “Oh hey.” Armin greets you and you greet back. “Where’s Annie?” You ask. “She’s in the backyard. Some of her other friends wanted to talk to her.” Armin replies as he sips his beer. You nod and steal a glance of Reiner, who was already looking at you.

“Alrighty everybody,” Eren began, “The game that was voted the highest was 7 Minutes in Heaven!” He yelled out causing everyone to make “oohs” and “aahs”. Many looked at each other, analyzing who would kiss who etc. Eren shot down the last of his beer and placed the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Everyone is surely familiar with the rules. So, without further ado, let’s begin. Marcel! You start.” Eren says and sits in his spot next to you.

Marcel spins and it lands on Pieck. Everyone “ooh”ed and cheered for Marcel. He had been crushing on Pieck for months now and finally could make a move. “Alright you two. Go into that closet and make out. We’ll be timing you for 7 minutes so hop to it. Oh and we want to see a hickey on one of you at least.” Eren says, making everyone laugh. Marcel wakes up and takes Piecks hand and leads her to closet where it was locked from the outside by Eren.

Seven minutes passed by fast and the pair came out with Marcel a bit out of breath. “Show it. Show it. Show it.” Everyone begins to chant and Marcel pulls down his collar to show a bright bruise on his neck. Everyone cheered and the girls giggled with Pieck.

“Ok. Who’s next?” Eren asked and looked around. “Me.” Your eyes shoot up to who said it and it was Reiner. He takes the bottle and looks at you. That look he gave you made you burn up. You sipped your drink and waited. Maybe you wanted it to land on you. Scratch that, you did want it to land on you.

“Spin Reiner!” Eren shouts and Reiner spins the empty bottle. It twirls and twirls until it stopped. Right on you.

Reiner smirked to himself while everyone cheered. Armin slapped your back and you smiled. You looked up from your cup and saw Reiner smiling. “Alright, lovebirds. Get in the closet. You know what to do.” Eren winked at you and you woke up and walked to the closet with Reiner right behind you. You both entered the small closet and the door was closed and locked.

Now it was just the two of you.

No music. No other people. No distractions. Just the two of you.

You played with your hands nervously and Reiner saw your tenseness. He took your hands in his and made you look up at him. He was so damn tall. “Y/n. We won’t do anything you don’t want.” He whispers and you shake your head. “No. I want to. I’m just nervous, that’s all.” You chuckle out and Reiner moves his hands around your waist and brings you closer. His left hand cupped your cheek and you lean into his palm. “Can I kiss you?” He asks and you nod. “Say it, Y/n. I need to hear that you want me.” Reiner explains. “I want you, Reiner. Please.” You say softly and bring his lips to yours.

You moved perfectly with each other. Tongues intertwined and moans spilled from both of you. Reiners large hands moved down to your ass, then your thighs and hoisted you up. He pinned you to the closet wall and moved his lips from yours down to your neck. “Aah, Reiner~” you moan and he groans. He nips your neck and bites softly making you gasp. He grinder into you and you pushed your hips down to meet his. He attacked your sweet spot forcefully and continued to draw out those beautiful moans he longed to hear.

Knock Knock “2 more minutes!” You hear Eren’s voice and you groan. But Reiner doesn’t stop. He kisses all around your neck to the other side and attacks there as well. “R-Reiner. Two- fuck- Two minutes.” You gasp out and grip his hair. He doesn’t answer. Just continues to ravage your neck with love bites.

“Time’s up!” Eren says and Reiner pulls away from your neck with a pop! His face flushed as well as yours, he lowers you down and holds you steady. Both of you were panting and the closet door was unlocked. “Meet me outside.” You tell him and walk out. Everyone looked at you and saw your disheveled hair and love bites all around your neck. “Damn Reiner. You don’t play games, huh?” Porco remarks and everyone chuckles. You smile and wave goodbye to everyone, Armin and go to get your jacket.

Reiner followed close behind and walked to get his jacket as well. You walked outside and waited for him. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle and kissed your cheek. You smile and he moves down to the side of your neck. “Mmm Reiner~ I’m a block away from here.” You appealed and he hummed in acknowledgement. “Let’s go then.”

You took his hand in yours and dragged him to your apartment. It took everything in him to not just take them and there on a wall but he behaved. He waited for you for so long so he wasn’t going to let this go to waste. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. After all this time, you finally had him. Months of flirting back and forth, you were both glad you waited until finals finished. Now, you two could pay special attention to one another.

As soon as you unlocked your door, Reiner lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Ah! Oh my god, Reiner!” You laugh out and shut your door behind you. He chuckles and gives your ass a smack then walks to your bedroom. He throws you on your bed and hovers over your body. His hands rub your thighs and move up the side of your stomach, lifting up your shirt.

He leans down and captures your lips in his and you move your hands under his shirt, feeling his chiseled abs. Reiner groans and pulls away and takes off his shirt. He leans back to you and nudges your nose with his, making you giggle.

“7 minutes with you isn’t enough. Can I have you for forever?”

———————————————————————

“I’ll leave the rest up to you. Idk why I’m not comfortable writing smut for Reiner. Maybe I’m still in love with him and I can’t show him my whore side yet. But soon.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

#reiner x reader #reiner braun #attack on titan reiner #snk reiner #shingeki no kyojin reiner #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #reiner fanfic

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blu-archer · 3 years ago

Text

Sharing is Caring?

Just some more AU sickness because why not?

snz based

Sickie: Tae - mild Jimin

Caretaker: Jimin [kind of?]

m/m [squinting at Yoonmin] and mentions of what I’m poorly portraying as ace. I’ve never tried to write about it before so forgive any misrepresentation please..

anyway...

Apart of this little universe; Flower shop and Bakery au

This piece mostly felt like me rambling, but it was kind of fun so I’m posting it.. sorry for any errors

Taehyung sniffled as discretely as possible as he wondered through the isles of the large supermarket, doing his best to avoid people even though he had made sure to grab a face mask before leaving the apartment to avoid spreading his germs. Technically they could be considered Jimin’s germs… but he wasn’t one to blame his platonic soulmate.

After all, they lived together. This outcome was inevitable.

So he hovered awkwardly through the store trying to move as quickly as possible by grabbing immediate necessities rather than the usual browsing of the shelves. And after the desperate sneezes that had surprised him by the canned foods and had kicked his headache into 5th gear, he wanted nothing more than to already be at home and back in bed.

The photographer paused a bit away from the freezer holding the ready-made meals – something that had become a must-have for the pair if they wanted to survive living together – waiting for the few people there to finish before he made his own snatch. He blinked lazily at the rows of boxes that he could just barely make out. He would have to grab a few, they hadn’t done ‘grocery’ shopping for the month and it had come back to bite them. The few supplies he’d gotten days before had dwindled to nothing in a blink of an eye. He’d woken up that morning looking for food so he could take his next dose of medication and had been met with a small portion of days old take out from the noodle place down the street and what was left of the soup Jimin’s boss had dropped off for him after he’d called in sick.

And Tae was getting really tired of soup, despite only being on his second day of feeling like warm death.

So he had taken the courageous, probably mildly stupid, step to go shopping. They needed more tissues anyway, and he didn’t really know anyone in the area that well yet despite having moved a few months ago so it’s not like he could make a plea for help.

Jimin had been thoroughly knocked out in his bed with a mound of extra blankets that hadn’t moved from their place since Yoongi had put them there after bringing the smaller man home from work the day before. So Taehyung had just scribbled a brief note and pinned it onto his door so that Jimin would know where he was if the slim chance of the elder waking up did actually happen.

A gap formed as a couple broke away from the freezer and Tae swiftly slipped in front of it, muffling a cough into his arm before he made a move to slide open the glass top. Taehyung was jolted from his actions as something – a body, definitely a small body – crashed into his legs, immediately reaching out with one hand to steady the child that wobbled upon impact even though his own balance wavered drastically. Thank god for fast reflexes, if he hadn’t dropped his basket and rested his hand on the freezer then he probably would’ve fallen straight on his ass. That would have been almost as embarrassing as the canned food isle incident just minutes before. This day just wasn’t getting better.

He had just barely looked down at the small boy who had almost caused his next disaster when his foggy attention was dragged away to the next rapidly approaching figure.

“Sehjoon!” An exasperated voice snapped before the small boy was pulled from Tae’s weak grasp. “I’m so sorry, he’s wild. Did he-“The man’s eye widened a bit and then he smiled, losing some of the tension in his body. “Its Taehyung, right? Jimin’s new roommate?”

Tae blinked, nodding slowly although he couldn’t really be considered ‘new’ since a few months had already passed, and it wasn’t the first time that he’d shared a space with Jimin. The man looked familiar, and he clearly knew who he was, which meant he was probably one of Jimin’s friends from work. Taehyung tried not to feel too bad about not remembering whose name went with which face, he was often busy with his own work when Jimin would tell him about what happened during his working hours, so he couldn’t be expected to remember too many details. It was a similar situation when he tried to explain to Jimin the different editing terms while trying to perfect whatever photos he had done. He couldn’t count the numbers of times he’d just watched his best friends eyes glaze over with some familiar vague nodding.

“I’m Hoseok, we met a while back when you first moved here.”

The man seemed to ooze happiness as he picked the boy up to rest him on his hip. Taehyung shuffled on his feet. He was a little unsure of what to say next. Usually he didn’t struggle with making conversation, but his head felt like it was filled with cotton, he couldn’t be faulted for this flaw of character right now.

“Sorry,” Hoseok chuckled, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “Jimin speaks about you all the time and even Jungkook and Jin mention you every once it in a while, it kind of feels like I know you.”

“Uh…oh. Yeah. Jimin speaks about you a lot too.” Tae replied, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His voice coming out deeper and with the beginnings of the congestion he’d hoped wouldn’t come so soon in the day. He cleared his throat in hopes that it would help. “The florist, right? With Yoongi?”

It clearly didn’t help.

Hoseok’s smile faltered, turning more sympathetic. As if he had quickly pieced the obvious together.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He shifted the boy on his hip when small hands grappled to be let down. Hoseok dropped his smile for a moment to give a stern look of disapproval that seemed to work like a spell over the boy as he went silent and placid in the mans hold. “I’m sorry about Sehjoon here. My sister asked me to look after him for the day and I think she both underestimates my babysitting capabilities and overestimates her sons behaviour. I was actually sent out of work for a bit because Yoongi needed a break from this level of chaos… Hey, he didn’t hurt you or anything right?”

“Oh, no. No.” Tae gave a croaky laugh that irritated his throat. It already felt rough from the amount of coughing he’d done during the night and it appeared that he was nowhere close to being done with that. Turning away, he coughed deeply into his arm, twisting away despite wearing a mask, and winced at the spark of pain that had shot into him. God, he was so over this cold. “Sorry. He barrelled into me, but he would probably be at more risk of hurting himself than me. Has a hard head though. Definitely able to knock some people out with that.”

That brought a bubble of sudden laughter from the other man that left Tae slightly bemused and yet, it was an odd feeling watching Hoseok laugh. A warmth of sorts spread over Taehyung when the man tossed his head back and seemed to glow as his shoulders shook. It was more contagious than Jimin’s illness and Taehyung couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the man as he began to tease his nephew shamelessly about being a new weapon of destruction. The boy simply whined and curled his head into Hoseok’s neck, apparently not seeing the same humour as his uncle.

“I should get him a leash to be honest.” Hoseok joked, but Tae had a feeling the glint in the mans eyes meant he was deeply considering it.

Taehyung didn’t really know how to reply so he just nodded slowly and turned his attention back to the freezer, recollecting his basket before just grabbing a few different meals at random and tossing them in with the juice and tissues he’d already gotten. Whatever it was he and Jimin would eat it whether they liked it or not. He had been out longer than he wanted to be by now and he wasn’t wasting more time on things that they probably wouldn’t taste much of anyway considering how this cold was progressing.

“Not much of a cook?”

Tae glanced to Hoseok who seemed to be shifting his weight as he looked towards the meals casually.

Sniffing lightly, Taehyung tried to suppress the desire to rub at his nose through the mask. He shrugged, his hand moving up to brush some hair from his eyes. “Never really learned. Jimin can’t either, but this is better than living off of take out.”

“I can see Jin rolling in his figurative grave.” Hoseok chuckled. “If you want I can mention to Jungkook how I ran into you, despite you clearly not feeling well. I can guarantee that you and Jimin will get visited by Yoongi and Jin with at least a months-worth of premade meals to be frozen because they heard from Jungkook that you were both malnourished and possibly dying.”

He blushed at the call out on being sick, but to be fair, he hadn’t thought he’d run into anyone that would actually talk to him or that this store would be so busy during work hours. He also didn’t doubt Jungkook’s ability to exaggerate, Jimin had told him about some previous examples that had at the time probably caused Jin a lot of stress. It mostly seemed innocent but very few could look into Jungkook’s eyes and not believe everything he tells them. Tae had only just started speaking to him more and he already knew that.

“Please don’t. I can’t even bear to look at soup after these past few days and I have a feeling that would be a strong contender of what one would give a sick person.” Against his original will, he rubbed a finger to his nose as it twitched with an itchy irritation. “I need to get home actually; we had no food left so I should try to get back before Jimin wakes up. And I am about ready to sleep for the next week.”

“Oh wow. So you really are in need of pre-made meals filled with some love and care.” Hoseok’s voice dipped into one similar to how he had teased his nephew. “Well, I won’t keep you then. You should get home and rest, but if you want to take me up on sending the s.o.s. message for food delivery, Jimin has my number.”

Taehyung thanked the elder man shakily, and even managed to get a small wave bye from the boy, barely having time to hear the small apology for bumping into him before he abruptly turned away and buried his face into his elbow.

H’EESH..hH’HEGXSHhh..

There was a startled ‘oh’ and then deep chuckles. Taehyung winced as he gave a liquid sniff with a low groan, feeling even more congested than before.

“ ‘cuse ‘be.”

“Bless you,” Hoseok laughed with a hand instinctively holding his nephew closer. He dipped his head in a small bow. “Sorry, it’s not funny. That sounded awful, but I got a fright and now I feel dumb for jumping.”

If he had blushed before, then this was him setting himself alight. That had never happened before, he’d never scared someone with his sneeze. Jimin was never going to let him live that down.

“I’ll leave you be now,” the man grinned. “Go home and get some rest. But when you feel better we should hang out some time. Jimin speaks about you all the time and I just think it would be great to see more of you… like with everyone. Welcome you to the city properly.”

“I…yeah. Okay.” Taehyung brushed his hands through his hair and took a starting step back, trying to hold back any more sniffling. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Feel better soon, Taehyung, and get home safely.”

*******************

HEESHHU..H’HIESHH…snfff.. … Heh..h..hhh..HHeGXTCHh…hnnxgGTSCHew!... nghHEHHSHH!!!

Taehyung panted out hot hitchy breaths as the tissue box was set in front of him as an offering. He laid a hand on the box to take it, his other hand hovered desperately over his face as he geared up for the next sneeze. His teary eyes had barely blinked open before they were forced shut once more, his throat and head pulsed with each sneeze that ripped out of him.

“Ble-e’hh-hh-ss yo-uishhhiew.. H’ingxtshh… hih’itishhew!”

Taehyung grabbed a few tissues and let Jimin keep the box as the elder coughed and crumpled into the seat beside him, before following Tae’s example of blowing his nose tiredly.

After shopping, Taehyung had managed a slow drive back to the apartment with multiple stops to tear open one of the tissue boxes he’d bought. It hadn’t helped much, and he had felt progressively worse as the minutes ticked by until he’d made it into the house, where he had promptly collapsed onto the couch with his tissues – only having to get up again to dump the food he’d bought in the fridge and freezer before sluggishly dragging himself to the couch once more..

When he’d been coaxed awake by Jimin gently shaking his shoulder, he had been met with a dim early afternoon sun and a plate a steamy food that had definitely been nuked in the microwave for longer than necessary. And from there they hadn’t really moved much, other than Jimin having forced some medicine into them and making tea before joining Tae on the couch.

There was some drama playing softly on their tv, but neither of them really had the energy to focus on it properly and Tae could barely hear the dialogue anyway once the congestion in his sinuses began to interfere with his ears. Jimin had dragged in a blanket from his room and draped it over both of them as Tae added to the pile of used tissues that had begun to form on the floor in front of them. Nothing seemed to stop the constant tickle that plagued him, nor his noses inability to do what he wanted. Tae was considering just stuffing his nose with tissues at this point. Since the trip to the supermarket his nose had turned into a mess that was seemingly draining the life out of him. Jimin had assured him that despite what he thought, it would get better, but he was sure that his friend was just trying to be his usual hopeful self. Always ready to reassure and look out for him.

At least they were suffering together. That was an upside. Jimin claimed to be feeling a lot better than the day before and it seemed to be mostly true, he was definitely being more active than Tae wanted to be. Although that could also have just a factor of the smaller man sleeping like the dead for almost 20 hours and Taehyung thinking it was wise to leave the apartment earlier. He was just deeply glad that he wasn’t alone again.

Tae hated being alone. Even when he was well, he’d tried living by himself before and it had eaten at him mentally. It’s a big reason why he had convinced Jimin to find a new apartment that they could share when he switched towns, instead of just finding a cheap single flat somewhere. Thankfully his Soulmate had been searching for something already, so he didn’t feel like too much of an inconvenience. Jimin had always teased him relentlessly for needing people but never wanting relationships, always just content with a friend to cuddle up to or hang out with. Yet watching Jimin and others grow into bonds and commitments always made him doubt. Jimin meant well with his chirps and edgy teasing, but it always made Taehyung worry about his future.

What would he do when Jimin finally moved on in life? It’s not like anyone would want to invest in a person that would never give themselves entirely to a partner... He would never fall into the trap of letting someone take what he didn’t want to give again, yet that was all everyone seemed to want from him. … Maybe he’d start up a cuddle site, or a hug program, he’ll think of a way to get the skin ship he needed without being a bother or a hazard to himself.

“You’re thinking too loud again…” Jimin whined hoarsely and sunk into Tae’s side, rubbing his cheek into the other shoulder as he curled into him. “Your brainwaves are hurting mine.”

“You’d need a brain to have brainwaves, you’ll be fine.” Tae mumbled as he ran a tissue under his nose with a sniff and yelped out a weary laugh when Jimin pinched at his ribs.

“Asshole.” The elder snipped, but the smile in his voice was evident.

It took no prompt for Jimin to snuggle even deeper into Taehyung’s embrace, relishing in the warmth despite the dampness that had begun to seep through Tae’s shirt. It would probably be wise for them both to get in the shower – at the very least to rinse off their sweat and germs – but they were far too comfortable to move. Tae felt as if his body had become moulded into the seat and the heat that was created between himself, Jimin and their blanket; paired with the medication he’d taken, only made him dozier. Even as his mind raced through various what-ifs of the future, his eyes gradually drifted shut up before jerking open with any sound or movement. Soft hands brushed soothingly up his side, edging him closer to sleep with low humming, and just as his eyes closed again there was a sharp knock at the door that caused both of them to groan.

“If we ignore it, they might think we’re not here.” Jimin whispered.

Ah…H’ERSHH! ..

“Never-“

HE’ETCHSHH!!

“… Never mind. Thank you Taetae.”

“Sorry..”

Another softer, more hesitant knock sounded through the apartment as Jimin pushed himself to his feet and handed control of the tissue box to Tae solemnly. He accepted it more desperately than he would have liked, but Jimin wasn’t going to judge him considering he’d been in the same situation just the day before.

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin tried not to shiver against the loss of heat. “I’ll go see who it is then.”

The photographer pushed himself up to sit cross legged instead off slouched down in the seat while Jimin left the room, so he could blow his nose as productively as he possible. Although his nose ached after so much blowing and he had immediately tumbled into a bout of coughing that had left him gasping and spitting into a tissue with a grimace, so he couldn’t really call it all that productive when it ultimately made him feel worse. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a yawn before considering just going to sleep anyway. From the front door he could vaguely make out Jimin’s voice – deeper and scratchier than usual – as he spoke with familiarity.

Hopefully it wasn’t their neighbour. She had been hounding them about tidying up their balcony that, quite frankly, wasn’t that bad. Sure, it had way too many dead and dying plants and the chair out there had definitely seen better days, but if she didn’t like seeing it, she didn’t have to go out of her way to look. It wasn’t like they shared it.

He leaned his head back to rest on the back of the couch and shut his eyes once more, trying to force himself to sink into sleep, yet it was now low grumbling and airy giggles kept him from rest. Irritated, he shifted so that he lay curled up on his side, tossing his heavy limbs around until he’d managed to get the soft, fluffy blanket over his body completely and tucked under his chin. Now if Jimin could get back so that he could at least have someone to cling onto, then he’d be ecstatic.

Muffled coughing grew closer until Taehyung heard Jimin call out to him just loud enough to not disturb his penetrating, consistent headache.

“Look,” Jimin practically collapsed on top of the photographer holding a small bouquet. He slid off quickly when the force of the landing set off Taehyung’s own thicker and hoarser coughs. “Sorry but look what Yoongi brought.”

Ah… so there was a definite hold on the ‘cuddle’ part planned in their day. Once he didn’t think his throat was going to rip to pieces, Taehyung blinked heavily at the various bright flowers that had probably been put together with more thought and precision than he could possibly imagine in that moment. Clearly Yoongi had decided to call in a delivery, he wasn’t really surprised. Jimin’s eyes shone as if he truly hadn’t expected the florist to stop by, and Taehyung didn’t think the elder really cared what he thought about it, he had merely fallen into an instinctive habit. Although, Tae would have preferred not to be assaulted with things that would possibly trigger his sinuses.

He scrunched his nose and pushed away the hand that held the glorified weapons. There were quiet steps and a gentle murmur from behind them that he would have brushed off as him hearing things, if only Jimin didn’t glance up with such a warm, wide smile.

“Beau’iful Chim.” Tae sniffed and rolled so that the blankets rolled higher to hide his face.

His cheeks were heated and Jimin turned his smile to him knowingly – albeit apologetic for letting Yoongi inside when Tae clearly just wanted Soulmate time. Jimin pressed a quick kiss to the small visible section of Tae’s damp forehead before getting to his feet with a stifled cough.

“I’ll put these in water... You really didn’t have to come and check on me, you know.” Jimin said softly as he walked towards their kitchen. “Probably safer to just call.”

“I’m not scared of getting sick, Jimin.” A low voice that could only be Yoongi, reassured as he followed the other. – So more than a delivery then.- “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday. Hobi said he ran into Taehyung earlier… Although from the looks of things he should have probably stayed home, poor guy sounds worse than you did – than you do.”

Jimin hummed, and Taehyung shifted to cover his head entirely beneath the blanket, trying not to listen to the couples conversation. Maybe he should just move somewhere else and let them have some space without having to hide in the kitchen. Of course Yoongi would have to accept the fact that he was entering an area of disease, but he seemed more than willing considering he was already in their home.

Tae gave a sigh and then a deep sniffle. He plucked a fresh tissue to wipe at the tender skin under his nose. It took a moment to work up the energy but eventually he was able to twist so that he practically rolled off of the couch. His knees and hand connecting a lot harder than he’d predicted to the floor, while trying to keep the blanket as steady as possible on his hunched frame. With sluggish motions, he tried to sweep most of the used tissues up with his hands and dumped them into the wastepaper bin kicked under the table, then after achingly persistent hitch started up that had left him feeling frustrated at the lack of relief – he considered the area clean enough before standing unsteadily. Making sure the blanket was wrapped tightly over his shoulders, he grabbed the tissue box to take with him – Jimin could find something else, he felt he needed them more. Then he had almost tripped on the way to his room and had muttered half-hearted curses at the blanket for betraying him and getting caught up in his steps, until finally he was able to collapse onto his bed.

Sure it was cold and probably smelt of sweat but it was at least more comfortable than where he had been lying and it had pillows that he could hug in replacement of Jimin. He buried his face into his arm almost immediately, sneezing harshly twice before he was able to bring a tissue to his nose and smother three more, breaking off into an exhausted, thick cough that left him feeling miserable and wanting nothing more to recollect the bottle of medicine he’d taken earlier and take the rest of it.

God, he really was so over this stupid cold.

#bts sickfic #snzfic #platonic soulmates #established yoonmin #jhope appeared #Tae suffers #im sorry #only a bit tho #alternate universe #photographer taehyung #florist yoongi #florist jhope #friendship?

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glitterrosesnz · 4 years ago

Text

decided that enough was enough, Venti couldn’t just keep showing up in my fics as a Chaotic Caretaker. so. Venti fans, come get yall’s juice-

---

Venti sat at the bar, his head resting on the countertop, seemingly asleep.

For anyone else, this wouldn't really be considered out of the ordinary. Sure, the bard was rather good at holding his liquor, but everyone has their limits, so the other patrons mainly chalked this behavior up to Venti having had one too many.

Diluc, on the other hand, with his inside knowledge of Venti being a god, and the fact that, thus far, the bard had only ordered one glass of wine, found this behavior very out of character.

"...Are you okay?" Diluc asked, quietly, so as to not draw the attention of anyone else. When Venti didn't immediately respond, he picked up the bard's half-drunk glass of wine and lightly nudged him with the bottom of it. Venti finally opened one eye to look at him.

"....'M fine." He mumbled, "Just.... used a bit too much energy today."

"If that's the case, you should go home and rest, rather than continue to sulk around in here." Diluc said, crossing his arms.

"I went to Windrise earlier and rested for a bit." Venti said, sitting up and subtly rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"That's not what I- wait. Do you even have a house?" Diluc asked. Venti gave a tired laugh in response.

"Why do you ask? Are you offering for me to live with you?" He asked, a smirk on his face. Diluc sighed.

"I'll take that as a no, you don't have a house then." He said, "And absolutely not. If you think even for a minute I'd let you freeload at Dawn Winery, then you must be well past drunk."

"Can't let people say I didn't try." Venti said, coughing a little before sighing, rubbing his nose again as he sniffled. Diluc narrowed his eyes, looking the bard up and down again, taking in his... unusually messy and unkempt appearance, suspicious.

"...Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, and Venti gave that tired laugh again-

And then suddenly the bard paused, stiffening as he quickly pressed the back of his hand against his nose. Diluc raised an eyebrow in silent question, but Venti was no longer paying attention to him.

The bard abruptly stood up, muttering a quiet curse and stumbling a little. Quickly, ignoring Diluc's protests, he rushed around the counter, ducking down behind the bar to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Diluc asked, and quickly got his answer as Venti's breath audibly hitched, his head tilting back-

"Heh- H'NGKt-shiew! HihH- H'NTCH-iew!" Venti stifled the two sneezes into his hands, the force of them making his body curl up tighter-

And a pair of feathered wings unfurled from his back, flaring out.

Thankfully, the wings didn't go high enough to be seen over the countertop. However, they did end up knocking over various bottles and glasses, sending the crashing to the floor, leaving shards of glass and puddles of spilled wine on the floor, and drawing the attention of quite a few of the patrons in the bar. Diluc quietly waved their attention away.

"I do hope you plan on cleaning this....." He started, only to trail off as he watched how the god tiredly shuddered as he drew his wings back into himself, and let them fade away. The whole process looked.... draining, to say the least. Diluc offered his hand as he helped Venti stand back up. Even through his glove, he could feel the heat coming off of Venti, and now Diluc was officially worried.

"I apologize for the mess I've made..." Venti said, staring down at the glass and wine on the floor. "Get me a mop, I'll help clean it up."

Diluc found he didn't really care about the mess on the floor.

"You're sick." He said, and Venti didn't even try to deny it.

"...Yes, I suppose I am coming down with something or other." The bard said, still not making eye contact with Diluc. "I'm sorry for being such a bother."

"Oh, stop with the rhyming." Diluc said, and he tightened his hold on Venti's hand, stepping out from behind the bar, dragging the bard along behind him. "I'm taking you to Jean."

There was, surprisingly, no resistance to this notion. As Diluc walked out into the cool night air of Mondstadt, he could feel Venti shiver beside him, but he chose not to comment on it, continuing to walk in the direction of the Knights of Favoinus headquarters. He didn't really like going in there, but for tonight it was necessary.

They'd just about made it halfway there when Venti suddenly stopped, tugging on Diluc's hand, attempting to free himself. Diluc looked at him questioningly, only to see a, now recognizable, look of mild panic on the bard's face, his free hand once again pressed against his nose.

"Really? Again?" Diluc asked, and Venti nodded frantically, not responding verbally, probably holding his breath in an attempt to keep himself from sneezing. Diluc looked around, there weren't many people out and about at this hour, but there were some people standing around, and so he quickly dragged Venti into the first alleyway he saw. He let go of the bard's hand just in time, as Venti was snapped forwards by a sneeze, his wings appearing and flaring out (causing Diluc to jump away to avoid being hit) as the god fell into a small fit of sneezes.

"Hih- H'ISHH-iew! H'Tt-shiew! Heh...hIH- H'ETSh-iew!"

"Bless you." Diluc said, as Venti sniffled miserably, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"You can't bless me, I'm a god, I'm already blessed." Venti said, laughing a little, which only caused him to start coughing. Diluc rolled his eyes as he gently patted the space in between Venti's wings in the hopes of it helping a little.

"You done?" Diluc asked, once Venti had stopped coughing. "Okay. Lets hurry up and get you to Jean."

"Wait." Venti said, his voice cracking a little from how hoarse it'd become. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Wait. We...kinda have a problem."

"What's wrong?"

"I...don't have enough energy to hide my wings." Venti said, quietly. "I've been doing this all day and I-"

"You don't need to explain it." Diluc said, sighing as he shrugged off his coat, before placing it over Venti's shoulders, effectively hiding the snow white wings from sight. "There. That should do until we get to Jean."

Venti reached up to pull the coat tighter around himself, looking almost swamped in it, considering how much shorter than Diluc he was. He clearly appreciated the warmth it brought to him though.

"Diluc, Venti!" Jean exclaimed, standing up from her desk as the two of them finally entered her office. "What are the both of you doing here so late at night?"

"Our little bard here need a..... secretive but warm place to stay the night." Diluc said, closing the door to the office behind him as he walked in.

"Why? What's wrong?" Jean asked, and almost as if on cue-

"Hih'NGKT-shiew!" Venti stifled a sneeze, his wings flaring out, knocking Diluc's coat off of him. Jean startled a little, but quickly recovered.

"Oh." She said, "I see."

"....'M sorry to bother you." Venti said, sniffling, gratefully accepting the tissues Jean proceeded to hand him in response. "I'd usually just stay in Windrise, but Mr. Diluc here decided I'd be better off with you."

"And you will be better off." Diluc said, "Seriously. You'll get better faster if you stay someplace warm."

"The tavern is warm." Venti protested, for the first time that night. "You could've just let me stay in the tavern."

"Absolutely not. Even sick, you probably would've drunken over half of my supplies." Diluc said, "Speaking of which. I still have a mess to clean up, so Jean, I trust I can leave the rest of this to you?"

"Of course." Jean confirmed, "I only had just a bit of paperwork left to do anyways, I've got time. You can go now."

Diluc gave her a nod, and turned to leave, picking up his coat from where it had fallen to the floor as he did so. He paused before opening the door, thinking for a moment, before laying his coat down on a nearby chair, in case Venti needed to use it again, before finally leaving the room. Once he'd left, Jean pulled off one of her gloves, placing the back of her hand against Venti's cheek before he could pull away.

"Hmm. You've got a fever." She said, "I've got some medicine in my desk but.... does medicine even work on you?"

"...It's only healing magic that doesn't work." Venti muttered, "Medicine is fine."

Jean quickly got the medicine out of her desk, setting up the right dosage, before handing it over to Venti. He took it quickly, grimacing in response to the flavor. Jean lightly put her hands on Venti's shoulders, just barely brushing up against his wings as she gently guided him out of the room, Venti picking up Diluc's coat and holding it tight against his chest as they left. Jean led him up the stairs towards one of the makeshift bedrooms, specifically made for people who had to spend the night at the headquarters. Luckily, Jean seemed to be the only one working late tonight, as they encountered no other guards as they walked through the halls.

"J-Jean...." Venti started, breath suddenly hitching, his wings tensing- "You....you might wanna duck...hIH- H'ESHH-iew!"

Jean took his advice, letting go of his shoulders and ducking down just in time to avoid receiving a wing to the face.

"Snf....Sorry..." Venti muttered, tired, as Jean stood back up, leading him the rest of the way to the bedroom.

"It's not your fault." She said, kindly. "You can't exactly control it."

Venti didn't respond, too tired to speak again after the amount of elemental energy he'd used up during the day. He slowly climbed into the bed, curling up around Diluc's coat, holding it like one would hold a stuffed animal or a baby blanket. Jean gave a soft laugh as she pulled the covers over top of him.

"Am I to presume Sir Diluc won't be getting that coat back anytime soon?" She asked, a note of light humor in her voice. The response she received was a light hum, which she took for a yes. She supposed she'd have to find some means of getting Diluc another, identical, coat then...

Jean turned to leave the room.

"Shout if you need something, okay?" She said, received another hum in response, and then quietly shut the door, leaving the god to sleep in peace.

#Gen/shin #snz #snz fic

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100hearteyes · 4 years ago

Photo

Part 2 of Clarke And Lexa Make a Porno, because why the fuck not.

Part 1.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anya's wolfish grin is no good omen. Lexa feels a sense of dread wash over her and tries in vain to assuage her nerves by holding her friend's gaze. Anya wouldn't look this sure if she didn't have some card up her sleeve.

Lexa throws a furtive glance around, checks that her co-workers are still focused on the German porn telenovela. It's only when she's sure that the action on-screen will keep them rooted for a while that she turns back to Anya, trying but failing to meet her eyes.

She overcompensates with another glance around the room and a low hiss. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but am I not too," she licks her lips, gathering the courage, "'vanilla' to do it?"

Anya shrugs like it's a no-brainer; crosses her arms and props her booted feet on Lexa's desk. "That's exactly the point. You're a lesbian Disney princess. Pretty sure if you started singing the whole fucking fauna of Capitola would follow you around."

Lexa levels Anya with a glare and tries to push her feet off the desk, to no avail.

(Seriously, what's it worth being editor if she can't even have her subjects' respect? She wishes this job was less about the headaches and more about the self-indulgent moments of microscopic tyranny.)

The feet might not budge, but Anya will. Lexa is sure of it. She draws herself taller and tucks on her most authoritative scowl. "I won't do it."

Anya plucks an imaginary cigarette from her mouth and throws it away without a care in the world. She reaches behind her and drags forth a heavy wooden box, filled to the brim with—

"My vinyls."

Lexa is in a daze.

She thought she'd lost all her vinyls to time and moving. She mourned each one of them for at least a year, cried many a night away clutching her record player to dear life, lamenting their shared loss.

They had a real connection.

But it turns out her vinyls weren't lost after all, and her tears were for naught. They were safe all along, albeit in different hands, and she'd known nothing of it, like a mother who lets her children wander about without aim nor authority.

How can she ever have kids if she can't even take care of her prized vinyls?

Lexa feels a prick of self-righteous indignation at the betrayal and puffs out her chest. "Why do you have all my vinyls?"

"I think you mean all my vinyls," Anya corrects with a lazy flurry of one hand towards the box.

"You don't even own a record player."

"How the fuck would you know?"

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I come over all the time?"

"I could hide it while you're there."

"And then you'd never find it again, because that's what happens every time you try to hide something from me."

Anya shrugs and watches as Lexa picks one of the vinyls and turns it over in her hands, reading the track list on the back with the reverence one would a millennium-old parchment. Then she looks up at Anya with a stern glare.

"Over half of these were stolen from my house."

Anya shrugs again with infuriating nonchalance and Lexa wishes she had a pencil nearby just so she could snap it in two with one hand. Or stab one of Anya's eyes with it.

"Maybe I just rescued them from the actual malefactor," drawls Anya.

"We both know the real culprit sits across from me and has been wearing the same socks for the past three weeks."

Nailed it.

When she looks at her friend, however, all she sees is that same old resting bitch face that never seems to go away.

"Wow, Lexa," Anya deadpans. "Now you've really hurt my feelings."

Sometimes, Lexa wonders if Anya really has a rock where her heart should be. A supernatural, blood-pumping rock, of course, but a rock nonetheless. Or, maybe, Anya is a psychopath. Maybe the blood money theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. That would explain the brazen lack of empathy for everyone else's feelings, most of all Lexa's. What does it say about Lexa that her one true friend is someone who sneezes literally every time Lexa says 'I love you'?

Not that Lexa says it a lot. Only once or twice every few years.

Just enough to have noticed the pattern.

"Are you really trying to blackmail me with vinyls?"

Anya fakes an affronted gasp, laying a hand on her heart. "Would I ever. Think of it as... an incentive."

Lexa really does love Anya, despite her friend's... unique demeanor. Anya helps her come out of her shell — by taking up all the space and forcing her out of her own metaphorical home — and every once in a while she likes to make sure Anya is aware of her gratitude. Sometimes, though, things get really fucking weird.

Lexa would still do anything for her best friend.

"Let's imagine, hypothetically - very hypothetically," she stresses, although Anya's burgeoning smirk tells Lexa she isn't so easily fooled, "that I agreed. What would happen next?"

Anya takes her feet off Lexa's desk and sits up straighter, perhaps aware of the importance of this moment. This, Lexa decides, will determine her answer.

"Well first, I'd have to get you a costar. Then we'd sign some legally binding shit, find a crew, and make the damn movie. Simple as that."

Anya leans forward, looking into her eyes. In Anya's, she sees honesty and a pressing need to reassure. It takes some of the pressure off her shoulders right away.

"Look, Lexa, you can say no. But your name won't be on anything related to the movie and I promise no one in this shitty town will ever find out you did this."

This is why Anya is Lexa's best friend. And it's why Lexa would do anything for her.

Even star in a porno.

"Okay."

Anya's inner smile must be really, really big, because Lexa knows how hard she tries to tamper its outward expression — and still her lips manage to lift into a grotesque grimace. Coming from Anya, it's the equivalent of a blissful grin.

"Okay?"

Lexa nods and closes her eyes, bracing herself for a bone-crushing hug. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, Anya's resting bitch face is back on.

"What, did you want a fucking hug?"

It's a blessing to have her rude friend back, Lexa guesses, because seeing Anya almost smile is fifty shades of unsettling. So she rolls her eyes and rolls with it.

Her next question demands her full focus, lest she makes an even bigger fool of herself than usual.

Lexa breathes in, makes sure all her co-workers are still otherwise entertained, breathes out. Smooths out a non-existent wrinkle in her pants, wets her lips for courage.

"Anyway," she treads with caution, "do you have someone in mind for the other main role?"

It's fitting that Harper McIntyre's hit song One More Betyreyal (one of her less inspired titles, if Lexa may say so) starts playing in that moment, for the look in Anya's eyes speaks of nothing but danger. Lexa wonders how much planning went into this conversation, so Anya could plan all her gut punches in advance.

"Clarke Griffin."

No. No. Anyone but her.

Clarke Griffin is the new recruit, although Lexa hardly understands how there can be someone new considering the station is broke and they’re already overstaffed — and none of them make nearly enough money for how much they laze around all day.

Clarke came from out of town with a fancy degree and was directly hired as an editor. She voices the early afternoon newscasts and Lexa curses the one-hour period during which she's forced to cohabitate with Clarke every day.

Apparently, Clarke had taken a liking to unnerving her, be it by smirking at her every time she catches Lexa staring or by making all sorts of inappropriate comments — to her ear. Lexa hates how much it affects her, but how can she possibly focus on reporting about Lionel "Real Sight" Foster swallowing his own wooden eye or how Jasper Jordan rescued his own private parts from the jaws of two slats of an unassuming park bench if someone keeps doing everything in their power to distract her?

Lexa has a theory (an iron-clad theory, if she may say so herself), and it's that Clarke is trying to get her fired so she can take her shift. It's the best shift of the day. There is no other possible explanation.

"You know what, I take it back. Now you need to convince two people to star in your porno."

"Oh, there's no need." Anya waves her argument away with staggering nonchalance. "Clarke's already said yes."

Wait, what? "But you told me we'd need to get me a costar."

Anya shrugs and Lexa is now seriously considering revisiting her psychopath theory. "I lied."

"You conniving, lying b—"

"Careful," Anya cuts in with a raised eyebrow. "I am under protection of the Capitola Astrologers Union."

"Of which you are president, treasurer, and the only legal member," Lexa reminds her. "And I think any upstanding judge would love to know how exactly every other name on the list has joined said union posthumously."

"I am an astrologer, Lexa. I can communicate with the dead. It's in my job description."

"It scares me that you're not even aware you're describing an entirely different profession."

Lexa sits back, staring at the ceiling (and the chewing gum Murphy glued there a year ago — he could've been an Olympic jumper if he committed to work the way he does to being an asshole), trying to come to terms with a single, harrowing probability: she's going to star in a porno with Clarke Griffin.

"l don't understand why it has to be Clarke."

Anya leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, expression serious and ready to talk shop. The last time Lexa saw her like this was— actually, Lexa doesn't think she's ever seen Anya like this.

"Look, I've done some market analysis and most girl on girl pairings are a blonde and a brunette." Anya raises both her hands and starts counting off fingers, "Brittana, Petramos, Holstein, Wayhaught, Supercorp, Joanarty, Choni, the inaptly named Shoni, Deanoru, Dana and Alice, Bette and Tina, Catradora, Villaneve, Clexa—"

"What's Clexa?"

"I don't know, some chicks from this fucking terrible CW show."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

"Clexa."

"Dude, I don't even know their fucking names!" Anya exclaims, exasperated. As if she's the victim here. "The only Clexa I ship is you and Blondie. Naked. On my porno. Clarke and Lexa. Clexa. Havin' very hot sexa."

"Smart," Lexa deadpans.

"I know."

"Why can't it be Niylah? She's blonde, too."

Anya's smirk is five hundred shades of gross. "I know you'd love to get up close and personal with Niylah's knick-knacks, but no."

Lexa decides to let the comment fly for the sake of her own sanity.

"Why Clarke, though?"

"Because you two have chemistry, you fucking dimwit."

Lexa snorts. Chemistry. Lexa has never heard of something so absurd. She and Clarke have as much chemistry as Harper McIntyre and any semblance of originality.

Which is to say, none at all.

"She makes very inappropriate comments," she argues instead, knowing full well that pressing on the topic of chemistry will only open way for some trademark crass joke from Anya.

"Yeah," her friend agrees, like it's obvious. "Because she knows you love them."

She most certainly does not.

"I most certainly do not."

"You do. Your freakishly tiny ears go red whenever she flirts with you. Your step falters when she makes one of those comments, for fuck's sake," Anya observes, pointing in Lexa's general direction, before leaving forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you, my friend, are a walking lesbian cliché."

Lexa takes Anya's hand off her shoulder. "Can you please stop insulting my tragically conspicuous homosexuality?"

"Oh please," Anya scoffs. "I'm bisexual, I can say whatever I want."

"If my step actually faltered - which they don't - it would be because her comments are annoying, off-putting, unprofessional, inopportune, and... and inappropriate", she finishes lamely.

"And you fucking love them."

"I don't."

Anya leans back on her chair with an evil smirk, propping her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. Lexa tries to push them off to no avail.

"Legalities aside, it's very simple. Clarke has already said yes. I just recorded you saying yes."

Lexa sputters, "You what--"

"You're both legally bound now." Anya shrugs. "Look at it this way: it will be very educational. You'll finally learn how to make a girl come, and get paid for it. Sort of."

A beat of silence.

"Anya, are you aware that you say something at least vaguely criminal every five sentences? Something that could actually put you in prison?"

Anya clicks her tongue, sinking farther into her chair, and lowers her sunglasses to her eyes.

"I've got friends everywhere, Lex. Let's just say I've dipped more than my fingers in my fair share of pies, if you catch my drift." A second later, she lowers her sunglasses just enough to reveal her eyes. "That means my tongue. My tongue's been in a lot of pies, too."

Lexa doesn't doubt that for a second.

"What I need to know is," Anya adds, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room, "will you dip your fingers in the porn pie?"

Like this conversation hasn't caused enough trauma for thirty lifetimes.

"If I say no, will you still give me back my vinyls?"

"Absolutely fucking not."

Lexa swallows, clenches her jaw, and thinks of all those lonely nights spent in the couch clutching her record player and sharing cookie dough ice cream with it, longing for long-gone times when she'd dance to the mellow voices of the likes Billy Ocean and Ella Fitzgerald.

"My answer is yes."

#that moodboard is way too serious for this lol #clexa #clexa au #clexa fic #clexa fanfiction #clexa fanfic #calmap #my fics #mine

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 4 years ago

Text

A Darcy Day Off

As promised, I present ~6,800 words of a sick, miserable Fitz/willi/am Dar/cy. I’ve been working on this on and off for an embarrassingly long time so I’m glad to finally clear it out of my WIP folder to make room for new things. But honestly, it was a pleasure to write, and I hope some of you take pleasure in reading it as well!

Definitely he first chapter, and honestly the first 2 chapters are mostly exposition, so if you want to skip straight to the sickfic goodness and reduce the word count, head to chapter 3. But I had fun writing (and worked hard on) the banter and conversation in the beginning, so I opted to keep it.

( @chezsnez @empresskaze @groundcontrol21 you all asked so nicely, so I hope this is what you were looking for! )

“Darcy, dear, what’s keeping you? I thought we were to meet in the library for tea,” Elizabeth called. She found him still in his study, hunched over the desk. She danced to his side, planting a kiss atop his head. He leaned against her briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I had more business to attend to today than I’d realized. Just finishing up now.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then his nose, trying to be rid of a tickle that had been infuriating him all day.

“Always at your work. I wonder our estate isn’t the finest run in Britain. And here I used to think people of high class such as yourself worried for nothing but amusing themselves all day.” She gently rubbed his neck where she knew he always got an ache when he wrote. He kissed her hand fondly.

“You are of such a class, too, now, my love. And how do you know it isn’t the finest? I’d be willing to wager a year’s salary this estate could be measured against parliament’s own estates and be proven worthy, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You pour your very soul into all that goes on here, and it’s one of the many things I adore about you. I am proud every day to be the mistress of such an estate. Only I wish you wouldn’t work so hard and take more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Are you accusing me of ignoring you, dearest? Only say the word and I would throw all my responsibilities to the winds and devote myself fully to your entertainment.”

He kept his tone light and playful, teasing her, but looked at her closely even as he did. Had he been neglecting her too much of late? He had had several pressing business matters on his mind these last weeks, and he knew he had been at his desk more than usual. Lizzie had not complained of course, and had been nothing but supportive and helpful, but the last thing he would ever want to do is make her doubt where his priorities lay, namely that she was foremost in his mind and heart, and in all things.

“Not at all, for you well know I’m quite fond of my own company. However, I can't help but worry about you. You put too much responsibility on yourself; you are positively careworn these days. I only wish your more lighthearted side could see the light of day now and again, and not just when we’re alone.”

“I am my truest self when I’m with you.” He kissed her hand again, then rubbed his nose. “I will always struggle being lighthearted while working. The two have never gone hand in hand in my experience; gravity and soberness were expected whilst doing business in my growing years under my father, and others. All the more reason I have need of your influence.”

She kissed his head again. “Very well, I accept the mantle of helping you find levity in your working hours. If only so that the strain you put on yourself will not affect your health. You put on a casual, careless demeanor in public, but I know better. You bear the weight of the world on those broad shoulders of yours, and that is a burden no man is meant to carry, even by his own choice. So come now, and join your wife for tea. The letters can wait another hour or so, surely.

“Indeed they can.” He stood and stretched stiffly. The chill winter wind howled outside and the sound made him shiver, glad for the roaring heat from the fire nearby, and in every room in the house as he moved to escort his wife to the library.

~~~~~~~~~~

The couple spent a pleasant hour or two in their favorite room in the house, chatting warmly at times, and sitting in comfortable silence at others. The relentless wind made Darcy feel sleepy and lazy, and he wanted nothing more than to take his wife’s advice and take the rest of the day to relax. He would have been content to remain here for the rest of the evening with his favorite person and simply read and chat and perhaps nap. But he had two more letters that needed to make the post tomorrow, and if he did not finish them now, he never would. He stood quietly and brushed his lips across his wife’s cheek. She nuzzled back, then watched as he lingered before the library fire longer than necessary, warming his hands and rear.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I’ve developed a slight headache is all, and it makes the task of my remaining letters all the more daunting.”

“I can imagine. I wish you would take a day off sometime soon, so that you may rest for longer than a few hours at a stretch. I believe it would do you wonders. Winter is generally a time for peaceful contemplation, but it’s been a frenzy of activity for you these past months. You are overdue for some leisure, my love.”

“You are right, as usual. Sometime very soon, dearest, I will take a week or two off and we will spend all the leisurely hours together you could wish. Perhaps we’ll even have a romp outside in the snow. Within the next month, once this mess is more or less cleaned up. Would that suit you?”

“It would suit me very fine indeed. While you could never be accused of neglecting me, I have been missing my husband of late, most especially his smile. That has been the most absent part of you.”

“For that I am sorry. I don’t like to bring my business affairs into our life together. My lovely, patient wife. You are too good to me.

“Well and I could say the same of you, so there. Enough of that. Come kiss me again, then go to your work before you fall asleep standing up.”

“As you command.” He was truly in danger of this, as he felt his lids growing heavier all the time, so he forced himself to move away from the pleasant heat, going to her side and kissing her fully this time, savoring her sweet lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Away I go. See you soon, darling.”

Mr. Darcy could not rid himself of the clinging fatigue for the rest of the evening. His remaining letters took longer than usual, and he knew they were not as well done as they ought to be, but at least they were done. When they were finished, he tossed his pen aside eagerly and stretched his stiff neck. Perhaps he should take those leisure days sooner rather than later. He really hadn’t been feeling his best lately, and the wintery weather that had had them in its grasp for weeks certainly wasn’t helping. Also, he missed his wife, though he had just seen her. He missed spending time with her, and not just in stolen hours here and there.

Right now all he wanted was to curl up beside her in bed, and talk of sweet nothings, and perhaps make sweet love. Hopefully that would help shake this irritating headache. Yes, they were long overdue for quality time spent together. He would make arrangements for some time away immediately, hopefully as early as a fortnight from now. The thought immediately made him calmer as he finished up a few small things, then hurried to find her and begin the more pleasant part of the evening.

“Heh-KERRR-CHOOOOO! Heh- heh- KITSHHH’CHOOOO”

A bellowing sneeze startled Elizabeth from her book the next morning, and the even louder one that followed caused her to go investigate it’s source. To her surprise, following the sound of the miserable sniffles led to her husband’s study, where she found him ineffectually wiping his dripping nose with an already-damp handkerchief.

“My dear Mr. Darcy, is that you making all that racket? My heavens, bless you! I don’t know as I’ve ever heard a sneeze so resounding in all my life. Were you holding it in all morning for it to grow to such a volume?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffled sourly. “It was merely a sneeze.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused. “I would beg to argue. You sneeze particularly violently, my dear. Likely because, as I noted, you hold them in until you can’t anymore.”

“Well, since you are evidently the expert,” he muttered as he pressed on with his work, coughing softly.

She rarely saw this severe, prickly side of him these days, and this, more than anything else, concerned her and made her know he shouldn’t be teased at present. He really must be feeling poorly. She moved to his side and pressed against him as she had the day before, rubbing his shoulder. He did not respond, physically or otherwise.

“You are unwell, my love. You should go take some rest. You quite look as if you have gotten the wrong end of this cold of a sudden.”

“I am fine. Don’t worry yourself. I am only in need of some tea and I shall be quite well.”

“I’d be happy to fetch you tea, but I’d be happier to fetch it for you in bed, or at least in your chair in the library. I fear these large windows will do you no favors with the draft.”

“I have many things I need to see to today. I cannot take time to rest. And all my files are here in the study. I haven’t been ill since I was a boy. I’m certainly not going to be ill now.”

Lizzie sighed and shook her head at the foolishness of males. “Have it your way, then. I’ll see you get some tea. Was there anything else you’d like?”

“Just a scone or two. Thank you, dearest.” He finally turned his gaze to her, and she saw true gratitude there, despite the reddened, watery eyes and dripping nose. “And forgive my rudeness when you came in. You startled me, but I should not speak to you like that. Please forgive me.”

“Of course you’re forgiven, and I am sorry I startled you. You know I only worry about you because I love you.”

“As I love you, my Lizzie.” He coughed wetly into his handkerchief. “Now please, if you’d leave me. I really do have much to do, and you are ever my truest distraction. I will see you this evening. And please know, I am doing all this so that we can have our time together very soon.”

“Yes, my dear.” She sighed softly and made her way out, stopping one of the servants to request her husband’s tea and scones. She gave explicit instructions for the type of tea and what was to be in it, things to soothe an aching throat and ward off fever. If he wouldn’t have a care for his own body, she would be forced to do it for him. She only hoped he would see reason sooner than later and take himself off to bed before he caught his death in that drafty study.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, Darcy was endlessly studious and conscientious, not to mention stubborn, and so he stayed in his study, or was running around with different servants and community members all day. He did his best to conduct his business as excellently as ever, despite how very unwell he was beginning to feel.

When their paths would cross later in the day though, she could see he was flagging. His cough had become quite the nuisance, and his nose and lips were raw and chapped. Dark circles began to show under his eyes, vivid against sickly pallor. Every now and again, she heard a massive, wet sneeze disturb the air from wherever he was. She gave him sympathetic smiles and little encouragements whenever she could, but what she truly wanted was to see him to bed and tend to his every need there. The misery on his face made her ache for him. If only he wasn’t so proud. And yes, stubborn.

She was quite relieved when he joined her at their evening meal, wearily announcing he was done working for the day, and she told him such. He was quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the evening, aside from his frequent sniffles and coughs, and the occasional explosive sneeze, which never failed to make her jump, even as they became more and more frequent.

Taking his lead, she also said very little, reading exhaustion in every line of his frame, especially as his sneezes and coughs harshened. If she had been another woman, and he another man (indeed, her parents came to mind), she would have said again that she wished he would take the day off tomorrow. But it was not in her to nag, and if she had he would only have become angry, or withdrawn completely. She had said her part this morning, and she knew he had heard her and remembered. What he did from here was his choice alone.

She watched him unobtrusively as he dozed by the fire that evening, feeling such love in her breast for her dedicated, hardworking husband, but no small amount of worry either. They had been married nearly three years, and she had never once seen him ill. She hoped it was truly only trifling, as he kept insisting it was whenever anyone asked.

They went to bed earlier than usual, her feigning equal tiredness for his sake, so he wouldn’t feel he was being a burden. But indeed, all she wanted of the rest of this day was to lie beside him in bed, perhaps rub his back, and just be near him for whatever he needed. To her delight, that is exactly what happened. He said very little, and asked for nothing, stifling sneezes now and again even as his frequent, chesty coughing fits worsened, but merely lay beside her and let her rub away at his aches and chills as he fell asleep.

Darcy and Eliza were both early risers, and both loved to greet the day while it was still fresh and full of promise. Being the man though, Mr. Darcy was always up and about before his wife, for it took him far less time to dress, and there were several things he liked to see to before breakfast, though he never neglected to kiss her goodbye as he left.

Imagine her surprise then, when the next morning found him still soundly asleep beside her when her maids came in to help her dress at their usual time. The sound of their arrival woke her, but her poor husband hardly stirred. She hurried out of bed, calming the poor, startled ladies in hushed tones, assuring them they had done no wrong. They helped her dress and fix her hair simply and comfortably before Elizabeth shooed them out again, saying she wasn’t sure what they should tell the other staff, as she had no idea what mind her husband would be in when he finally woke.

Lizzie sighed as they left. Now it would be all over the house that he was sick abed, and who knew what other irrepressible rumors. He would hate that. However, at present it was the truth so he would just have to deal with it whenever he woke. In the meantime, she picked up her book and read in the chair by the fire, wanting to be close when he woke.

That turned out to be shortly thereafter. He first began to toss and turn a bit, then he started to cough, then he nearly made her jump out of her chair with one of his tremendous sneezes.

“Heh -KER- CHUUUUHHF!” The noise was thick and miserable-sounding, more than hinting at painfully clogged sinuses and a raw, scratchy throat. While he was mopping the mess from his face with his handkerchief, his lungs decided to take their turn at clearing themselves as well, and he erupted into a series of wet, strenuous coughs.

She made her way to his side during this sad display, gently stroking his tousled hair as he quieted. He groaned softly when he was able and pressed into her embrace, still holding the handkerchief to his nose, eliciting a cluck of sympathy from his wife at his sorry state.

“My poor dear,” she murmured. “Your health is much worse this morning.”

“Mby head is like a lead weight od the pillow,” he croaked. “Fatigue weighs dowd mby limbs dreadfully.”

“Then you will not work today?”

“Mby wise wife advised that I look after mby body more, and today mby body tells mbe I must rest, so rest I shall,” he murmured sleepily. “As long as you’ll keeb mbe company?”

“I would love nothing more. This is perhaps not the leisurely day we had hoped for, but I’ll accept it just the same." She tenderly caressed his cheek, frowning as she felt it. "You are terribly feverish, darling." Yet she hardly needed to feel, for just by looking at his flushed, sweaty face and seeing him shake with chills, the fever made its presence known.

"And yet I'mb chilled to the bone. I had forgotten how beastly udpleasant it is to catch cold," he rasped with a thick sniffle.

"Indeed, it makes one feel for your poor sister all the more. It seems she is laid up with a cold every other week. Now, how does tea appeal to you? And perhaps some food? You hardly touched supper last night."

"Tea would be lovely. Mby abbetite still eludes me however. But, if only to please you, I would try sumb toast and an egg."

Lizzie had servants running for his requests in short order while Darcy tended to his nose, blowing it over and over, soaking through more than one handkerchief. His tray was delivered in record time. Seeing it arrive, Darcy slowly levered himself to a sitting position, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Mby head is throbbi'g," he mumbled.

Elizabeth pressed the cup of tea into his hands, looking sympathetic. "Drink some. It may help your head."

He did as he was bid, drawing his knees to his chest like a boy as he drank while she rubbed his back. However, another tremendous sneeze almost made him spill the whole thing.

“Ah- ah- KITCHSHOOOOO! Ugh…” He sought his handkerchief desperately, and when Elizabeth handed it to him, he pressed it harshly against his streaming nose to stem the flow, groaning as he did. Elizabeth hastily took the teacup from his again, for it seemed in danger of being upended at any moment.

"Bless you! My poor dear, what can I do for you? Besides keeping a stack of handkerchiefs here for your poor nose."

"I would ask you to help mbe dress in a few moments," he said, his voice muffled behind the fabric as he tried to rub away the headache between his eyes. "While I will be as quick as I cad, I must speak to mby steward and give hib sumb idstructions for mby absence."

"Can you not write him instead? I fear for you going out in the cold, lest this settles in your chest."

"Mby head aches too miserably to do a probber job with writing. I fear I would forget somethi'g crucial. Ndo, I'll quickly go dowd and speak to hib, and thed I'll return. Ndo going outside for mbe today, never fear."

She sighed and nodded, knowing he would not be dissuaded. "At least finish your tea and try some egg before you go so you don't collapse on the stairs."

"I'mb far from collapse mby dear, I assure you." His general appearance said otherwise though, as he had been miserably coughing into his handkerchief throughout the whole conversation, and had yet to stop shivering. However, she held her tongue and served him breakfast instead.

Lizzie saw he made an effort to eat as much as he could, and though it was only a few bites, she was slightly placated. She knew he would not relax until he had set what affairs he could in order. So, after his tea was gone, when he rose and began to dress, she assisted him, for she realized the sooner he left, the sooner he would return.

"I'd rather not ri'g for mby valet, as I'd be worried I would sdeeze on hib," muttered Darcy, looking embarrassed as she straightened his jacket while he futilely tried to blow his nose, which only served to make him cough yet again.

"It's no trouble at all, dear. Only please hurry back. I truly worry for that cough."

"I'll be back under your watchful eye as quick as I cad, dearest," he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips as she slipped an extra handkerchief in his pocket. With that, he was gone, his boots thumping down the hall wearily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time dragged as she waited for him. While she knew he could take care of himself and she didn't need to be here the moment he returned, she also knew he would want her to be. Her husband was a strong man, but at times like these, he depended on her, and she was not about to disappoint him. So, while there were plenty of things she could have seen to around the manor herself, she waited in his sitting room with her needlework, keeping the fire high.

Finally she heard him in the hall. She rushed to open the door as he shuffled in, looking spent.

"Darcy dear! I expected you an hour ago!" she said, helping him shed his coat. Suddenly she felt his shoulders hitch under her hands as his breath scissored:

"Ktt-tsshhEEW!" The wet spraying sneeze was his response, only partially stifled by the sodden handkerchief he held. She blessed him worriedly as he again mopped his face.

"I'mb sorry, dearest," he finally managed. "I was stobbed many tibes between mby study and here to answer questions. I cabe as quick as I could."

He fell wearily into the chair nearest the fire with a deep groan and a deeper cough. He bent to try and remove his boots, but his efforts were hampered, as his nose streamed dreadfully if he bent over. He had to keep a hand pressed to his face as he tried to undo the fastenings with the other.

Elizabeth knelt in front of him and gently pushed his hands away, loosening and removing the boots herself as he leaned back in the chair, sniffling wetly.

"Thagk you, mby love," he croaked.

"Here, have some more tea, I've just had Mary bring some. There, now what suits you best? Shall we cover you warmly and sit here by the fire, or would you like me to fetch you some soup? I won't ask if you want to call for Dr. Bishop yet since I know what you'll say, though I have half a mind to."

"There's ndo need for the doctor," replied her husband. "Whad I most want right now is to lie dowd and sleeb sumb few hours yed. Mby mind is sluggish. I cad hardly grasp on a thought except how exhausted I amb."

"Then take my arm and let's get you to bed, poor man. I imagine some more sleep will do wonders for you."

"I don't need help walki'g mby dear, I'm not invalid, only full of cold." Even still, he took her proffered arm as he stood and rested a hand on her shoulder warmly as she led him to the bedroom.

"That may be, but I'll see you there myself just the same to make sure there's no distractions along the way." She kissed his hand and caressed it fondly as they made their way to the bed. She helped him remove all the clothes she had helped him don not long before and replace them with his nightshirt. While he clearly needed to sleep, he also seemed loath to let her out of his sight. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment with her pressed against his side. She scratched his back fondly.

“You should lie down, dear. You’re more asleep than awake.”

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her unexpectedly, burying his face in her abdomen with a weary sigh. Elizabeth was slightly startled, but gladly reciprocated the embrace, burying her face in his hair. Her husband was an affectionate man, but not usually physically so. This gesture from him, while not at all unwelcome, was unexpected.

“I feel terrible,” he groaned, barely audible, leaning most of his weight against her. “Mby body runs amok with mbe.”

“So it seems. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t wish this cold of yours on anyone.”

She held him for a few peaceful moments. Just as she was about to again suggest he lie down, for it seemed he was in danger of falling asleep against her, his back twitched violently and he tried to pull away.

“heh-GIHH’CHOOOO! Hehht-kk’CHOOOOOF!”

Neither had time to react as poor Mr. Darcy sneezed thickly, his face still pressed against his startled wife. She couldn't suppress a little gasp as he pulled away, stammering apologies and wiping his traitorous nose.

She was silent a moment appraising the state of her dress, then an unladylike snort of laughter escaped her, sending her into a little fit of giggles even as she comforted her overwrought husband, pressing him gently back against the pillows.

“It’s all right, my love. Such things happen. ‘Tis only a dress, and I have plenty more. It seems neither of us are coming away from this cold of yours unscathed. But there now, you’re completely spent. You can hardly keep your eyes open, red as they are. Take some more rest, my love.”

“You’re too good to mbe,” he croaked, fighting against his heavy eyelids but already nearly asleep, the handkerchief still in his limp hand on the bed.

She reached out, caressing his face and brushing hair from his brow. “No more of that. Close your eyes and sleep, for how else do you expect to get better?” She clucked her tongue softly again. “You really are painfully warm, poor man. It is most worrisome,” she said, more to herself than him.

“I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, the last word turning into a snore as he finally gave in to the needs of his body.

~~~~~~~~~~

That was to be the last interaction Mr. Darcy would remember for quite some time. He fell into a deep sleep then, and everything that happened over the next few days would be blurred flashes in his mind at best, hazed by illness and fever.

Of course, the same could not be said for Elizabeth. After he fell asleep, she left him and tended to some of her duties around the manor (after changing her gown, naturally). She did not want to hover in the sickroom, both for her sake and his, so she forced herself to stay away for several hours, knowing he would ring if he needed something.

Still, in the late afternoon she returned, unable to stay away any longer. He was exactly as she had left him, snoring softly. He didn’t seem to have moved at all in his sleep, which was most unlike him. She again went to feel his forehead, sensing something amiss. He was much warmer than before. A knot of worry pulsing in her heart, she tried to shake him awake. He opened his eyes and seemed to look at her, but she could tell he wasn’t truly awake, and didn’t respond when she spoke to him, only grunted and coughed, trying to roll over and sleep again.

Without further ado, she sent for Doctor Bishop, pacing the halls outside Darcy’s rooms until he arrived, wringing her hands in worry and opening the door to check on her husband every few minutes, to ensure he got no worse.

The doctor arrived quickly, heading right into the sickroom. He did a thorough examination, listening to Mr. Darcy’s heart and lungs, checking his pulse and 100 other things. Darcy woke briefly a few times, but only managed answers of a word or less before he dozed off again. His large frame looked somehow both bigger and smaller than it should, curled up limply on the bed, with only his breathing as evidence of life. After he was through, the wise doctor scrutinized his patient, deep in thought. Elizabeth remained silent, waiting with baited breath. Finally the doctor turned to her.

“You said he’s been overworking himself and run down lately, yes?”

“Yes, doctor. Business has been troubling him of late.”

“Hm. So it seems. Well, overall his vital signs are normal for a man with a cold. I see nothing overly alarming, excepting the high fever. That is a touch worrisome, but can at times be seen in such cases. No, I don’t fear any illness has befallen him except what you’ve said, a bad cold. I think he’s simply exhausted, and this cold has caught up with him and brought everything down at once. I’ll wager the fever will subside in a day or two, and the rest in the days after that as long as he gets the rest he sorely needs. I shan’t prescribe him anything except what he already has here with you, Mrs. Darcy. Let him sleep as much as he wants, keep him hydrated and don’t cover him too warmly, and I think this will run its course soon enough.”

It was as if great weight fell off her shoulders as he spoke. “Oh, thank you doctor! Indeed, I shall do just as you say, and make sure he does as well.”

“Please do. The stubbornness of the Darcys is well known to me, for my father and his father have been treating this family for generations. I’ll come round to see him every day until I’m satisfied he’s on the mend, if that suits you.”

“Oh, yes please, and thank you kindly. You have my deepest gratitude, sir.”

“My pleasure, madame. Until tomorrow.” He tipped his hat and was gone.

With a huge sigh of relief, Elizabeth collapsed on the chair at her husband’s bedside. After a moment, she found his hand under the quilt and held it, needing to feel his touch, even if in unconsciousness. After a moment, he unexpectedly squeezed it. She looked up to see his eyes were fluttering closed, but his face was angled toward her now. She took a moment to appreciate that fine face, though currently his nose, cheeks, and eyes were matching shades of red against the sickly pallor over the rest of him.

She sighed and softly kissed his hand. “Get well soon, my dear.”

He certainly took his time doing so, or so it seemed to Eliza. Either she or Georgiana were at his side at all times. He slept constantly, barely waking even to drink water. He spoke hardly at all and asked for nothing. He would intermittently shake with chills, or else sweat profusely. He sneezed in thick, messy fits, several at a time, but then would go hours between, until the sensation again overpowered and woke him. He coughed more often, since that it seemed he could do even as he slept.

Yes, he slept, but he was overall restless. Noise in the room roused him. He stirred when he was touched. He stirred when he coughed. He woke when he sneezed. His sleep didn’t seem peaceful, which was perhaps why he never fully woke, because he wasn’t fully resting.

The first night, Elizabeth slept in her own rarely-used bedroom (she much preferred sharing his), wanting him (and herself) to rest as much as possible. The second night though, she was achingly lonely, missing his touch, his voice, and his smile. So, she crawled into her usual place beside him in his bed, pressing herself against him. She found herself cold, as she had been since he was ill from the worry, so his warmth was more than pleasant.

She herself relaxed immediately as soon as she was against him, but more surprisingly, so did he. He didn’t wake and hardly stirred when he felt her, but his breathing quickly deepened and he relaxed more fully as they rested against each other. Basking in the sensation of enjoying one another’s touch, they both slept the whole night that way.

~~~~~~~~~~

More than 48 hours after he first fell asleep, Darcy finally woke up completely. Naturally, it was a sneeze that did it.

“Heh’gihh’CHUUUHFF! AHHGK-CHOOOF! … ow….”

Something in the tone made Lizzie turn. She had been sitting facing the fire with her needlework, but glancing at the bed, she saw her husband sitting up, one hand to his temple, the other wiping his nose, and looking aware of his surroundings for the first time in 2 days. She dashed to his side, feeling his forehead at once.

“Bless you, dear. My, but it’s good to see you awake! Oh, and your fever is much decreased, how wonderful! How do you feel? Is your head hurting you? Here, drink some water, the doctor said you’re likely dehydrated…”

She wanted to prattle on, but she saw he was a bit overwhelmed, so she forced her tongue to be still. She gently grasped his hands, to calm him as well as herself, and kissed them fondly. She then handed him a glass of water, and he drank gratefully as she looked him over. He seemed a bit better, but he continued to look around in a dazed way.”

“Have I been asleeb long?” he finally rasped, his voice totally gone, and still stuffed tight with congestion.

“I would say so. It’s been two days darling.” She did her best to keep the worry and accusation out of her voice. He couldn’t help that he’d been ill.”

“Two days?! Good heavens.” He fell back against the pillows with a groan and a cough. “Ndo wonder I feel so sluggish.”

“Yes, but it seems you needed it. The doctor has been out every day, and he says you were suffering from exhaustion. Your body was taking the rest it sorely needed.”

“So it seebs.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Sumb better, I thingk,” he said with a wet sniffle. “Less fevered. I am still weary, and will sleep another night soundly through, but I hope I’m on the mend now.”

“As do I.” She kissed his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Darcy was indeed on the mend. He was moving about his rooms freely the next day, and 2 days after that, he was allowed by the doctor (and his wife, grudgingly) to resume his duties, though at a reduced basis, for his cough still lingered, along with some fatigue. Yet he was incredibly cheerful to be leaving his rooms, and everywhere he went, he had a spring in his step.

That same day he was freed found Elizabeth curled on the settee in her rarely-used personal sitting room, wrapped in a coverlet and trying to read. However, her dripping nose and throbbing headache prevented her from making much progress in the story.

A barking cough burst out of her against her will, making her drop her book. With a feeble groan, she reached down to retrieve it, holding a handkerchief to her streaming nose. She had known she likely wouldn’t escape catching her husband’s cold, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. However, she was not about to spoil his first day of freedom with her own illness, so she was hiding here to avoid him as long as she could.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard his boots in the hall, and she suppressed another groan. He knocked softly, then peeked in the door, looking happy as well as confused when he saw her.

“Mary said I might find you here, but I thought she must be mistaken. Whatever are you doing? I was hoping to meet you for tea.”

She took a breath to answer, but instead the urge to sneeze snuck up on her. She shoved her elbow against her face, turning away from him to stifle the stubborn urge harshly:

“HXXT’GH! HNNKT! HXXTCH! Guh…” she mumbled at the end, which turned into a painful cough that she hardly had breath for.

Darcy was at her side in a moment, kneeling by her arm and feeling her forehead just as she had his so many times the past few days. Concern and regret crossed his face. “You have a fever, dearest. It seems I’ve shared my cold with you,” he said, stifling a little cough.

“You always were the gentleman, never failing to share with a lady,” she groused weakly.

His low chuckle was warm. “I’m truly sorry. Yet I heard you hardly left the bedchamber while I was ill, so I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Especially since you sneezed on me,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.

“Indeed,” he chuckled again. “I’m sorry for that as well. But now, enough talk. Rest your voice. Come up to bed and I’ll see you get some tea and toast.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to go to bed, did that occur to you? I’ve spent all week in that bedchamber and I’d prefer to not be forced to go back,” she muttered petulantly.

“I can tell you’re feeling unwell, for you’re never so irritable. That more than anything tells me I must see you to bed immediately.” His tone indicated some teasing, but mostly seriousness. Without further ado, he scooped her up in one motion and stood, carrying her toward their bedchamber, a little smile playing around his lips.

“Why you--! I’ve never been thus treated in my entire life. Put me down, you terrible man!” Yet she couldn’t keep from laughing, miserable though she was, which of course turned into a cough. She hadn’t felt so ill in a long time. In fact, the overwhelming urge to sneeze was coming over her again. She struggled weakly to free her arms from where he had them pinned, but it was too late:

“Hhh’rrrrushh’eeeew! Herrr’CHEW! Hihhh’knn’CHOOF!” She sneezed explosively against his chest, covering them both in the spray. His steps paused as he looked down at her, open-mouthed, while she stared back, reddening in embarrassment, but slightly triumphant.

“...bless you, my Lizzie,” Darcy finally said, an odd smile on his face.

“Thank you. I’m terribly sorry!... But what choice did I have, when I can’t move my arms? Now we’re even, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled again as he resumed walking. “And I suppose if you must sneeze on someone, it’s best if it’s me, as I can’t very well catch this cold again. But all the more reason for me to see you to bed. You look a mess. In the loveliest possible way, of course.”

“How charming you are, Mr. Darcy. You have quite a way of flattering a woman.”

He chuckled again, but by this time they had reached his bedchamber. He deposited her on the bed with the utmost gentleness, and proceeded to assist her in changing into more comfortable clothes. She shivered miserably as she changed so that her teeth nearly chattered. Darcy tucked her in warmly and quickly rang for some tea, then began to remove his own boots and coat. She watched him curiously, though with heavy eyes, for she suddenly she found herself exhausted. With pleasure she realized he planned to join her in bed.

He did just that a few moments later, pulling her close against himself and wrapping her in his big, warm arms. She nuzzled in gratefully with a sniffle and a cough. He buried his face in her hair as they settled, coughing as well.

“What are you doing, Darcy dear? I thought you had many things to do today,” she mumbled, already nearing sleep. “You’ve had so many days off yourself. You needn’t take another for me, though it seems we’re quite a mess still.”

“This has become the most important thing I must do today,” he yawned. “You were a saint to look after me this whole week, so now I must return the favor. I’m not likely to let an opportunity pass to spend time with you after these past weeks, for I’ve learned my lesson. And I too am already weary, for this cold hasn’t quite left me. A nap would suit me fine, especially if I can warm you in the process.”

When a servant arrived with tea, no one greeted him, and when he opened the door with the tray, he found it best to simply leave it nearby and duck out again, for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were fast asleep.

#sickfic #Sickness #sicknario #snzfic #snzblr #snzario #everyone is hotter with a fever #especially fitz/william dar/cy

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imagineddworld · 4 years ago

Text

Favorite victim

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: You are Fred’s favorite prank victim, which creates a lot of hatred towards one another. Until a mistletoe proofs you both wrong.

Word count: 2 k (2000)

Author’s note: I am so sorry for being this unactive. Also sorry for the lack of quality. University is taking up all my time and has given me a headache that lasts for a week already. Thanks for understanding. I hope you enjoy this shorter fic.x

You and Fred had a complex friendship, if it even could be considered that. He always seemed to take the piss with you. For some unknown reason you were his favorite pranking victim. It all had started innocent. Hiding your ties, placing your books at the highest shelves that were impossible to reach, and switching your ropes with one of the other houses. Putting potions in your food that made it taste odd, made you sneeze, and made your voice a high pitched squeak. But over time they became more evil. The potions no longer got their innocence. They coloured your hair in plenty vibrant colours, made your nose bleed, and made you cough up feathers. The twins put traps everywhere, so you would trip and get covered in a thick, stinky liquid. In class they made your books explode, messed up your potions so you would end up with a loud explosion to the face and getting covered with whatever concoction was in the cauldron.

It was getting out of hand. Last week they had replaced your soap with one of their own brewed ones. It was supposed to make your head purple, but instead you had started to swell up. Your face felt as if it was about to pop. You angrily approached them during breakfast. “Thanks a lot mate. Good luck explaining to McGonagall why I can’t attend her class”, you threw the soap at them, shaking your head in disappointment. “This hurts a lot”, you said through gritted teeth, before leaving them. You quickly headed over to the hospital wing for the umpteenth time. Later on you found out that you had a bad allergic reaction to one of the oils the twins had put in their soap. Your swelling first got worse, before it vanished. You barely could open your eyes and breathing had became difficult too, but luckily it faded soon enough. Their stupid little prank had resulted in you spending a good few days in the hospital wing. As soon as you were released form your bedrest, you gave the twins a lecture about the dangers of their pranks. Luckily for you they never used that oil ever again. But they managed to cross the line many more times in various other ways. You started to grow more hatred towards the beloved twins. One day they would actually kill you.

Today they had stolen your alarm clock. You were woken up by annoyingly loud ticking noises coming from your closet. Over time it grew louder and more unbearable. As if being late wasn’t bad enough, they also had to steal all your clothes and replace them by those idiotic toys. They didn’t even had any specific shape, just odd metal forms. As if a robot and car got merged together but had melted during the process. After you finally found some clothes, hidden somewhere safe, you stormed out in search for the redheads. They were sat in the common room, happily chatting with some other students. “Weasley!”, you slammed the door shut behind you, angrily stumping your feet on the ground as you made your way over to him. “I swear to Merlin, If i find another of your stupid little - toys- I will personally stick all of them up your throat till you choke to death”. As you were yelling at Fred, you had earned the attention of the whole common room. Even if the constant bickering had become a daily routine, they still waited impatiently for the scene in front of them to unravel into your usual fights. “Wow (Y/n), relax”, Fred showed his famous smirk. He stood up, meeting you halfway of the common room. He towered over your small frame, looking challenging into your eyes. But two could play his game, you didn’t budged as you gave him your darkest, murderous glare. You raised your eyebrow as a signal for him to explain himself, already knowing that only nonsense would be spewing from his mouth. “It was just a joke. Not even a dangerous one-”, the last part of his sentence got cut off by a loud exploding sound coming from the girls sleeping room. Or more specific, your closet. At the same time, the toy in your hand had exploded as well. You let out a scream of shock, while throwing the lightly smoking object to where Fred’s feet were. He jumped as a reflex. His face turned angry for a slight moment, but you could care less. You were beyond furious. The day were he would succeed in killing you, would came sooner than you had thought. “Not dangerous?! Not da-dan- Are you joking me?!”, you stuttered due to your overwhelming emotions, mostly furiousness and hatred. “Well, that’s kind of the point”, he cocked as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t just could have injured someone really badly with his stupid prank. “I still could have been in there”, you said, hitting him on the chest to have more impact on him. “Someone could have gotten hurt, or worse -” Which each word that left your mouth, you hit him a bit harder. But he didn’t moved at all, he just grinned down at you. As a foolish idiot, loving the sight of your angered state. His smug face only made your anger worse. Nothing would ever sink in his brain, he just brushed it off. You wanted to comment on it, but found yourself unable to. You were just going to waste your time, so you decided to storm off to somewhere you wouldn’t need to see his face again. Somewhere you could calm down.

Once you vanished out of the room and the watching crowd returned back to their daily routines, George stepped up to his brother. “Well well, Freddy. You know we are meant to play nice”, he smiled with a hint of a smirk hiding in the corner of his lip. “Shut it. I’ll play nice when she does”, He glowered, looking like a grumpy little child. “Oooh, so you want her to play nice with you”, George teased, as he wiggled his eyebrows at his twin. “Shut up”, Fred responded again, leaving his twin alone. George just smiled and shook his head at the foolishness of his brother.

Luckily for you, you didn’t saw Fred’s face until your study session. You were nearly done with your potions essay, when a huge amount of ink fell out of the sky. Your clothes were soaked by the black liquid. As you looked down to your desk, you saw your essay covered in huge spots. “Noo”, you said a bit too loud, voice lightly cracking from your exhaustion. Your head shot towards the chuckling sound. “You”, you spat out, as if he were a poison in your mouth. You murderously glared at Fred while approaching him. “What have I done”, he smiled innocent. You bit down on your teeth, clenching your jaw. It was hard not to slap him across the face right now. You dug your fingernails into your palm, while deeply breathing in. “Do I really need to explain it?!”, you grumbled through gritted teeth. “Be my guest”, he smiled, beaming with excitement and mischief. His hands rested on his hips with much attitude. “You- Ruined - My- Essay”, with each word you stepped forwards, closing the gap between the two of you. You slapped your essay onto his chest, staining his clothes with the black ink. “I’ve spent days on it. And you know for a fact that Snape won’t care”, you pushed him away from you, making him stumble the slightest bit. “Ruin your own essay for once”, you said in a small voice, as the previous event slowly started to sink in. You were devastated, all your hard work was for nothing. Your eyes started to water a little. You were exhausted, not only from the long nights you had spend on the now ruined essay; but also because of how draining these pranks had gotten. Ever one of them gave you more reasons to hate these beloved twins.

As you looked up from your ink-covered hands, you saw Fred with a dumbfounded look on his face. Only seconds ago, he was beaming with joy. “What?”, you asked harsh, but nowhere near the intensity it usual would have. He gave no response, so you sighed and tried to walk off. But you found yourself unable to do so. A force kept you in place. “What do you want?”, you muttered in a mix of anger and despair. You were too exhausted and too distressed to have a fight. “Just let me go”, you said with a much softer voice. You were still turned away from him, as you were trying to hold in your tears. “I don’t have a hold of you... I thought you had a hold on me”, he said slow, confusion knitting his eyebrows together. “What? Why would I-”, you started, turning your head back in his direction. As you eyes trailed to his face, you caught sight of something green above Fred’s head. You let out a frustrated sight as you realized what it was. Stupid mistletoe and its bright green leaves.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, totally over this whole situation. You desperately tried to free yourself with some spells. But the mistletoe wouldn’t move, neither could any of you. “(Y/n), you know that won’t work. You should know that. You are lots better at charms than me”, Fred said, sounding sincere. A unexpected heat raised to your face. Fred Weasley just had given you a compliment, what a rarity. “But we need a way to get out of here before any teacher catches us out past curfew”. You used the lame excuse. You truly didn’t care if you were out past curfew or even got caught. You just wanted to get away from Fred before he could pick up on your emotions. Not that he would care. Everything just seemed to be a joke to him, surely when it included you. “I know a way”, he responded casually. But you were unimpressed, showing it clearly with your facial expressions. “Trust me, okay?”, he muttered softly, his voice almost coming out as a whisper. His big hand cupped your cheek, leaving a warmth at the place where your skins touched. “Just this once”, you replied, before his sweet lips pressed against yours. His other hand went to the small of your back, pulling your body tighter to his chest. Your hands lightly tugged on the fabric his shirt, staining it even more with the black liquid. Neither of you caring how big of a mess it would be.

The kiss lasted longer than you had expected. You melted in his touch, losing yourself in the heavenly kiss. Your hands found their way to his jaw and the back of his neck, leaving a trail of blackness everywhere you had touched his soft skin. Only when you broke apart to breath, you realized what had happened. Your eyes slowly fluttered open. You were met with a grinning Fred, who now also was covered in the black liquid. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction he wanted. He was not going to get you that easily. “This changes nothing, Weasley”, you suppressed the smile that desperately wanted to curl your lips upwards. You turned away from him, relieved that you finally could move again. You were about to head over to your belongings, when he pulled you back by your arm. “Well, I think it does, (Y/l/n)”, he grinned the biggest smile he had ever had, “Mistletoe only sticks to people who have feelings for each other”. The smug bastard. Of course he would know such a thing. As he pulled you in for a second kiss, you couldn’t help but smile against his lips.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred hp #fred x reader #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #weasley twins #fluff #Fluffy Imagine

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littlekatleaf · 3 years ago

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The Dreams in Which I'm Dying

Well wtf, it's a new fandom for me. Unexpected! I started watching D/imension20 RPGs and fell in love with F/abian Seacaster and G/arthy O'Brien from F/antasy H/igh and P/irates of L/eviathan. This takes place 20 years after the events of the games.

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying Are the best I’ve ever had. ~ Tears for Fears, Mad World

It begins with nightmares - dark, heavy things Fabian doesn’t remember on waking. At least, not the first few nights. He’s left with nothing more than vague shadows and a lingering sense of unease. Everything seems wrong - his apartment simultaneously too big and claustrophobically small. He’s suffused with restlessness. He knows something’s coming, like a squall brewing just beyond the horizon. He might not be able to see the gathering clouds, but feels the barometric pressure plummeting.

At first he attempts to dance out of the way - to dodge and evade - but the dread wraps around him like his own battle sheet, tangling him tight. He tries to ignore the tension singing along his shoulders, the constant twist in his gut. It’s nothing, he tells himself, less than nothing. There’s no time for it to be something. Rumor has it the ship carrying one of the last pirates of the Crimson Claw will reach the mouth of Leviathan in mere days. If he’s going to meet it, he needs to pull together a party. Barely enough time remains to cement plans once he knows the group’s strengths and weaknesses.

As he paces his living room, trying to outrun the apprehension, Fabian’s eye is caught by a piece of red string, like Riz always used in his conspiracy boards. In that instant he longs for them. The Bad Kids. No matter how many years passed since any of them were kids, it’s still at the heart of who they are. (Isn’t it?) They fit together in their roles. Like that movie Kristen made them all watch once - a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess and a criminal. The others had bickered good naturedly over roles that night - specifically who was the basket case. Kristen joked it was Gilear. Ragh said it was her. Fabian didn't need to argue because he knew the truth - Riz was the brain, Gorgug the athlete, Adaine the princess, Fig the criminal, Kristen the saint. Himself the basket case. Even in all the intervening years, he’s never found a group that connects as well as they had, before they all went their separate ways. Even if they hadn’t lost touch, none of the others adventure anymore. In their absence he needs to choose alternatives, like he always does, attempting to fill the holes they left behind - and failing.

He picks up his crystal, turning it over in his hands. The group chat is saved, they are all still members, but no one has used it in years. Maybe he’s wrong; maybe he needs to let them go.

He knows there’s no time for self-indulgence. But he still stalls, the trepidation casting a fog of doubt over every option. He cannot decide on even one person to trust. Perhaps this time he should go alone. He can defeat one single pirate himself. The rest - crew and spoils alike - is irrelevant. The Maelstrom’s Maw will likely bring in the boat and then he can attack. He rubs his forehead against a growing headache and puts the decision off again.

Two nights pass, with only the lightest veil of sleep and even that torn by disquiet. The intervening days feel equally foggy with a mix of exhaustion and dread. Fabian drags himself through the necessary tasks by his fingernails until he’s done everything he can without a crew. A crew on which he still has not managed to settle. In the midst of circling the problem for the five hundredth, or five thousandth, time his crystal flashes an alert. The ship’s been sighted just a few nautical miles off Harroway Bay and will reach Leviathan before dawn. He’s waited too long, he realizes. It will be a solo adventure, then. Nothing else for it.

Fabian knows, almost from the moment he engages, that he’s made a deep mistake attempting the attack this way. Though he comes upon the pirate in the dead of night, alone as planned, he hadn’t considered that the pirate’s shipmates might still be within earshot. His blade only crosses the pirate’s once before he hears heavy boots closing fast.

The pirate thrusts and he manages to parry, but only just. His body feels strange and disconnected, as though he’s a half-beat behind in the dance, perpetually off-step. The pirate presses his advantage; Fabian retreats. Suddenly there’s a flash of light on another drawn sword and several more pirates surround him. At his best he can handle eight, maybe ten. He is not at his best, and light from the streetlamp falls on fifteen.

The pirate grins. “Yer goin’ down, boy.”

“Not a boy anymore.” At least he’ll die in battle, and if he’s very lucky he’ll take this scourge to hell with him. Make his papa proud.

“That remains to be seen,” another says.

The battle is fierce. Swords clash, lunge and dodge, strike-parry-riposte, movements Fabian knows in his sleep, but something is wrong. His body won’t obey. His lungs ache and he can’t catch his breath. Sweat drips into his eye, burning. And then - an opening - the pirate attacking leaves his flank unguarded and Fabian darts in fast - too fast to pull back when he realizes it’s a feint.

I’m fucked, he has time to think, as the pirate whirls. A sharp blow cracks across his elbow, his fingers go numb and his sword falls, clattering to the cobblestone. One of the crew kicks the back of his knees and he stumbles forward and drops. He grabs for his sword, but just as his hand closes around it, the point of the pirate’s sword is at his throat. Should have known it would end this way. Alone. On Leviathan. Fitting for it to be here, tonight - on the anniversary. The way it should have ended if he hadn’t run like a coward, abandoning Alistair to Captain James. Fabian fumbles in his pocket for his crystal, wishing for just enough time to send a last message to the Bad Kids. “Do it,” he says from between gritted teeth.

The pirate barks a laugh, but shakes his head. “Ain’t worth the world o’ hurt that would bring down on me head, boy. Chungledown Bim’s a right devil and yer marked as his. Can’t let ya follow for another go at me, though this has been a delight.”

A brilliant flash of pain blinds him. The crystal slides through his fingers. He falls… and falls… and falls…

through ropes that burn his skin and do nothing to slow his speed and his body hits water that closes over his head like he’s been swallowed whole and still he falls through freezing darkness until the ocean parts and he falls through fire and the flames crackle and whisper - What will you tell the Captain when you meet him in Hell? Have you written your name on the face of the world, Fabian? No, you have written nothing. Nothing to be remembered by. Even your friends have forgotten you. How does it feel to be a failure of a pirate and a failure of a friend? the whisper turns to choking smoke and

Fabian coughs himself awake, lungs aching like he’s been breathing water and smoke, but he still lays where he’d fallen, in some Four Castles back alley. His body’s not been hijacked. Not dropped here by imps. He blinks up at the sky for a long moment, struggling to orient himself. The sky is heavy with clouds, hiding even a sliver of moon. Fat drops of rain pelt down, edged with ice. He blinks the water from his eye and pushes himself to his feet. Once again he staggers through the streets of Leviathan, shivering hard enough to rattle teeth. This time, however, there’s no Cathilda to wrap him in a blanket, no Hangvan to disappear into. No Kristen to slap sense back into him. He wraps his arms around himself, but the rain soaks his shirt and finds no warmth.

Those he passes take no notice of him, perhaps assuming he’s nothing more than another drunken pirate. Even so, he needs to find a place to lay low. Given enough time someone will roll him just to see if he has any coin. Or simply for the fun of it. He’s not even sure, at this moment, that he could defend himself against a single assailant. His head aches where the pirate hit him and his throat is unaccountably raw. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he sneezes. Once, twice, thrice, smothered in the sleeve of his shirt. He always sneezes in threes. Riz teased him mercilessly about it.

“If you’d just sneeze like a normal person, instead of those pinchy things, you’d be done in one, Fabiahn,” Riz would say, drawing his name out like his elvish grandfather did.

“It’s called being polite, The Ball,” he’d reply. “And what do you know about normal?”

“About as much as you.”

They’d laugh together and Fabian’s embarrassment would ease. He would give anything for Riz to be laughing with him now.

Suddenly a door slams open and a wash of warm yellow light spills over the ground in front of him. He glances up. Maybe Kristen sent Cassandra to watch over him, because his meandering path has brought him to the Gold Gardens. The exiting patron brushes past with a muttered curse, but Fabian barely notices. As the doors swing shut, Bob’s voice slips through, full of dream and promise. Fabian checks his pockets and breathes a sigh of relief at the comforting feel of coin.

He stands straighter, raises his chin, allowing the light to fall on his face, scars and eyepatch and all, as the Goliath guard regards him suspiciously. Though it has been some time since he’s been on Leviathan and longer since he’s sought refuge at the Gold Gardens, he trusts the reputation he’s built in the intervening years yet holds. “Good evening. I find myself in need of a room for the night,” he says. “I have payment.”

The other guard, a half-orc he vaguely recognizes from previous visits, turns to him. Her face betrays no reaction to his disheveled state. It’s likely that she’s seen worse. “Ah, Master Seacaster. Garthy O’Brien has made it known there is always room for you here. Please, enter.”

Fabian sketches a small bow. The doors swing wide and the heat that flows out and envelops him is nearly as heavenly as Bob’s voice. But the change in temperature makes his nose run. He sniffs, presses the back of his wrist against the tickling itch, but can’t stop the inevitable. He’s barely inside before he’s sneezing again and wishing for something other than his sleeve to cover with. “H’tchsh! Chh! H’tsh!” He hopes the music and general merriment of the patrons is enough to hide the slight sound, but of course he is noticed.

“Blessings, Fabian, darling. Are you ill?” Garthy touches his shoulder gently and before he can stop himself, Fabian flinches away. His skin feels too tight, even the light pressure too much sensation. They take a step back, one hand raised in a calming gesture.

“I beg your pardon, Garthy,” Fabian says, attempting his usual charming smile. He’s not sure he pulls it off, because a small frown of concern still lingers between their brows. Somehow the expression does nothing to mar their beauty; the proprietor of the Gold Gardens is exquisite as always, the few silver threads in their black dreads the only indicator of years passing. “I’m fine. Just a little chilled from the rain. And you, my friend, are a sight for sore eyes. Eye.” His mouth quirks. “Might there be a room for a traveler seeking shelter from the storm?”

Garthy considers him for a long moment, gaze intent. Fabian resists the urge to look away, to avoid scrutiny. It’ll only make them more suspicious. He concentrates on keeping his expression vaguely flirtatious, his stance loose and easy. At last Garthy gives the smallest nod, allowing him his ruse. “I have told you before, lovey, you are always welcome here. You and yours. Come.” They turn down a hallway and Fabian follows.

Bob’s voice, the rattle of dice, the din of too much conversation fade and Fabian releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The Bad Kids always stayed in a room just off the main parlor, right in the midst of the action. Fig and Gorgug would take over for the house band and practically blow the roof off. Kristen would try to outdrink that biggest pirate she could find, and usually ended up drunk-best-friends with everyone. If Tracker had to pull her out of a fight or two, well, that just kept things interesting. Ragh and Fabian would drink too much mead and take too much snuff and Ragh would challenge the wrong people to wrestling matches and Fabian would beat the wrong people at dice and sometimes fists would be thrown. Good naturedly, of course. Adaine would watch them all over the spine of a book from the Compass Points and shake her head. Sometimes she had to heal one or another of them, but she never seemed to mind. Riz would disappear into the crowd for indeterminate amounts of time, only to suddenly appear at their table with a sharp-toothed grin and clues to whatever mystery they were trying to solve that he’d gleaned from overheard conversations. Fig and Kristen, especially, never wanted the nights to end. Sometime around dawn, though, Kristen and Tracker would peel off, followed by Fig and Ayda. The rest of them shared a room, Fabian, Riz, Gorgug, and Ragh all sprawled on a huge bed while Adaine tranced on a chaise nearby. Somehow Fabian slept better those nights than before or since, even though the room was never peaceful, or silent. Ragh and Gorgug snored. Adaine muttered to herself in her trance. Riz, when he slept, was restless, taking up more room than a three and a half foot tall goblin should. When he didn’t, his pen would scratch across his notebook for hours. None of it ever bothered Fabian.

A door creaks open, startling Fabian out of his thoughts. The room Garthy offers is a small and simply furnished space, just a bed, desk, and fireplace. Fabian crosses the room to a large window and looks out over the edge of the city to the black ocean beyond. It’s still raining, drops pattering against the pane. He should say something to Garthy. Thank them for the room, make a joke about another Leviathan brawl gone badly. He can’t find the words. Any words.

“Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps a warm drink?” Garthy’s voice is quiet, as though they might be intruding.

“No, thank you,” he says. Kippers, Master Fabian? Cathilda’s voice in his head. I don’t deserve kippers. He didn’t. Doesn’t. Twenty men dead. Twenty innocent men. Worst of all, Alistair Ash. Still a child. Dead because he needed to prove that he was a true pirate, heir to his father’s fame. That he is worthy. Instead he left Alistair to the fate that should have been his. He rubs his hand over his eye as though he could rub away the ache. The failure.

Garthy whispers something Fabian doesn’t catch, and flames rise in the hearth, hot and bright, crackling cheerfully. “At least let me take your wet things,” they say. “You’re shaking.”

He hadn’t realized how cold he still feels, despite being out of the wind and rain, until Garthy points it out. He takes a breath to declare, again, that he’s fine, but a chill cascades over him, followed by several sneezes, instantly proving him wrong. “H’ngxt! Fuck. H’Ntch! Ngxt!” He straightens and Garthy offers a handkerchief. Abashed, he takes it, blows his nose. “Pardon me.” Before he can gather himself, he’s overtaken again. At least this time he has a handkerchief to mute the sound. The sneezes shiver through him hard enough to send drops of rain spattering from his hair.

“Bless you, darling.” Garthy draws him closer to the fire. With deft fingers they undress him, peeling sodden clothes from his body, then wrap him in a thick robe. He doesn’t resist, suddenly beyond exhausted. Everything feels like it’s happening at a distance. Or maybe through a pane of glass. “Come, have a lay down. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

Fabian nods, even though he’s certain things will look just the same. He barely slides between the sheets when his eye drifts closed. He feels the bed dip slightly as Garthy sits beside him and, seeking warmth, he curls close. They smell spicy and sweet, like cinnamon and sandalwood and orange blossoms. Garthy curves a hand over his forehead. It’s strangely comforting and he wants to bury his face in Garthy’s hair, but instead he drifts out and out and…

floats in a strange grey emptiness. He can only identify his surroundings by absence. No color. No sound. No touch. He thinks he lifts his hands, or tries to lift his hands, or what should be his hands, but there’s nothing. He tries to look down, what he might assume is down, only to find no body. Nothing. It’s like the Nightmare Forest, but worse because they defeated the Nightmare King. They defeated Kalina. Which means this must be real. This nought. Of course no one reaches out… you don’t exist.You never existed. You are not even memory. You are a nonentity. A nullity. He opens his mouth to argue, but there’s no mouth, no vocal cords, no lungs, no breath. No words. No thoughts. Just deep, endless cold. Bone aching cold, if he had bones.

“...safe…You’re all right. Wake up, Fabian, love.” Garthy’s voice coalesces from the cold, at first sounding sharp as ice breaking. But they know his name, beckon him back into form by shaping the word. “Come on, darling. You’re dreaming.”

“Should’ve left me; felt better there. Nothing hurts when you don’t have a body,” he mumbles, and even though he has vocal cords again, he sounds nothing like himself. He clears his throat, sniffs.

Garthy laughs, low and kind. “Let me help you feel better, here in your body.” They cup his cheek gently, then urge him up and through a door to a bathing chamber.

A large bathtub stands in the center of the room, steam rising in soft curls. It is surrounded with dozens of candles and in their light Garthy glows, irises and tattoos molten gold. Fabian reaches for them, hesitantly. As if touching them might dim their shine. They smile tenderly, allowing him to trace the Zajiri script, the flowers and leaves with one tentative finger. He wonders what the writing might mean. Their skin is soft under Fabian’s own calloused hands. He longs for Garthy to wrap their arms around him, to hold him close until his shivering stops, until he’s finally warm. He doesn’t know how to ask.

Instead he moves back, putting a bit of distance between them. “I’m not w…” he starts to say, but an unexpected set of sneezes interrupts and he only just manages to pull the handkerchief from his robe pocket. “Ht’ngxt! Heh...ihh… Nxgt! H’tchh!”

“Not well?” Garthy suggests, steadying him. “Blessings.”

Heat rises in Fabian’s cheeks and he coughs a laugh. “That either. But no.” He gestures broadly, including the room, the bath, Garthy themself. “Not worth this.”

Garthy tilts their head with a puzzled frown. “Oh, lovey, of course you are.” They press one finger to Fabian’s lips before he can continue arguing. “Shh. It’s all right.” They take Fabian’s elbow, guiding him into the bath.

Fabian sinks into the heat with a deep sigh as his muscles begin to relax. He slides down, submerging himself completely in warm darkness. The water closes over his face; he rests his head on the bottom of the tub, and the only thing he hears is the thump of his own heart in his ears, still beating, beating, beating. At last his breath runs out and he surfaces with a gasp.

Gathy’s pulled a stool up beside the bath and as Fabian wipes water out of his eye, they wet a cloth and begin to wash his back, humming quietly. The soap smells of eucalyptus and peppermint, cool and clean. Fabian shivers once, and only slowly eases into the touch, closing his eye as Garthy washes his hair, gently working his fingers over his scalp. A memory rises, unbidden - himself, in the bath, he can’t be more than five and he’s sobbing. His papa is away, his mama asleep in her room even though it’s not even dark outside and he’s sick and scared. But then Cathilda’s there, as she always is, and she’s cleaning him up and humming a lullaby. Tears rise now, before he can stop them, dripping into the water.

“What’s distressing you, love?” Garthy asks.

It takes him several minutes to gather his thoughts; they feel ephemeral as clouds floating through his mind. “It’s been twenty years, Garthy. Shouldn’t it have faded?” He coughs, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “I still see them, you know. My father’s warlocks.” He presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. Breathe, he tells himself.

Garthy hums a listening noise.

“I shouldn’t have gone alone that night. I just wanted a moment in Crow’s Keep - we’d gone there together, my papa and I. When I was little. It was the one time Mama got angry at him, for bringing me to Leviathan, when he wasn’t supposed to be interacting with pirates. But he’d taken me up to watch the sun rise. He said he’d bring me to the top of the world, that we could touch the clouds. If I was lucky, I might even bring some home in my pockets…

“He gave me cotton candy, told me it was one he’d harvested himself. I’d never imagined clouds tasted so sweet…” he licks his lips, remembering how the candy had melted on his tongue, just like a rain cloud.

“I thought, maybe… somehow… if I spoke to him from the top of the world, he might hear me.” Fabian laughs at himself, coughs on a sob but manages to swallow it back. “Of course, Papa wasn’t listening. He was busy taking over Hell and selling spells to pirates. Always on to a bigger adventure, even in death.

“When the warlocks came, I let myself get swept up. Figuratively, as well as literally. I told them about Papa. About what I’d done… and it wasn’t enough. I killed him and it wasn’t enough.” He takes a ragged breath and Garthy rubs his back in slow circles. “I thought we could take Captain James. I thought I could take Captain James. It would make up for… everything.” He sucks in another breath, on the edge of desperation. He can’t get enough air. When he blinks, he feels Whitclaw’s tentacles on his face, cold fingers gripping him tight, raw hatred pulsing in the air between them.

“It went so fast. So fast. If I didn’t run… if I didn’t… he would have killed me… with the others. I didn’t stop to think, I didn’t even grab Alistair and he was fighting for me. I abandoned him… and I didn’t die, but he did. Because I fucked up.” Fabian sits in silence for several minutes, jaw clenched, struggling to breathe and not cry.

“I thought the guilt would fade,” he finally says, voice rough and not much above a whisper. “I thought the good I’ve done since would make up for it. I thought the adventures I had with the Bad Kids would make up for it. But it hasn’t. It doesn’t. And they’re gone… I thought killing the last of Whitclaw’s men would be penance. But I fucked that up, too.”

The only sound for a long moment is the rain on the roof, thunder rolling in the distance. Then Fabian takes a breath like he’s about to dive into the ocean and turns to face Garthy. “Am I forgivable?”

“Oh my darling Fabian. Of course you are. You are already forgiven.” They lean forward and brush the lightest kiss across his lips. “Yes, dire mistakes were made. And you have repented of those mistakes, and made reparations. You did not follow in your father’s footsteps; you found your own way. You have made a good man of yourself. You help those who are in need. You do not take advantage of anyone. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. Tales of your deeds are not spoken of as widely as Captain Bill Seacaster, but I have heard them nonetheless. Be proud of who you have become, Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And you should know that Alistair Ash lives again.”

A warm breeze whirls through the room and the candles suddenly go out. It’s as though the light has been transmuted into a seed of hope in Fabian, gold as the irises of Garthy’s eyes. Back in bed, Fabian curls into Garthy and they wrap their arms around him, holding tight until his trembling passes.

#snezfic

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lightwithinthedarknessu · 3 years ago

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A Crown to Adorn

Starting off #sokaiweek2021 with a fluffy one-shot!

Wrote a little fluffy one-shot for Day 1 of @sokaiweek Prompt: King and Queen. Childhood memories for #sokai and a cute flower date! A time of healing and reminiscence, adorned with flowers fit for a King and Queen.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32511775

Fanfiction. net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13918369/1/A-Crown-to-Adorn

A Crown to Adorn

*.*.*.*

“Wear a crown of flowers on your head, let its roots reach your heart.” – Kabir

*.*.*.*

The smell of the grass, the warmth of the sun on their faces, and the slight scent of honeysuckle wafting through the canopy above was the perfect complement to an otherwise ordinary day. Ordinary, that word seemed to slip into her mind with a lithe bump, nestling into her heart but leaving behind a tinge of anxiety. Was it good to cherish something even if you knew it wouldn’t last? Those words danced within her mind as warm rays of light kissed her cheeks.

Living in the moment. Cherishing those small moments of reprieve-sometimes Kairi had to keep reminding herself to do that. Whether it be taking in deep breaths of the salty air or cherishing the soft sensation of sand squished between her toes- those small insignificant moments she needed to hold close. The way the wind hit her face as Sora and Riku rushed past her in one of their many races or the sensation of cold droplets hitting her face during one of their many water fights. Those moments, they would rush back at her all at once during those times she was alone, listless, and longing for their company.

Somehow, Kairi knew that today would be one of those many moments she held close to her heart. She took in a deep breath, savoring the crisp air hitting her lungs.

The Kingdom of Corona was as beautiful as Sora had claimed it would be. Filled with flora and fauna, clean air, and warm bathes in sunshine. Even the few heartless around were, she had to admit, cute in their own way. Made her almost sad to pummel them, but once she found herself attacking in unison alongside Sora- every thought she had just melted away. He always seemed to do that, make her feel as if she could do anything, be anything. It sounded silly but- his light made hers stronger somehow. It radiated within her a warmth that felt so comforting she never wanted it to leave.

After clearing the area, they had decided to take a quick swim in the spring nearby and were now sunning themselves like a couple of lizards on the forest floor. They had taken off their shoes and fully let themselves relax for what felt like an eternity. Peaceful, it was so peaceful that Kairi felt she could fall into a sleep here without a care in the world.

“I’m glad you brought me here. It’s so pretty.” Kairi turned to Sora, her eyes welling with shimmering light. After hours of training, Sora had dropped by unannounced, unattended by the other two little half-pints, to whisk her away for a “well-deserved break” as he put it. At the time he had a shy grin on his face, letting her know that really, he had just wanted to see her. Not that she minded. She wanted to see him too.

“I had to! I mean you love flowers and well the beach back home isn’t as green as this. Heck, I hadn’t even seen some of the plants here before. It’s really something- all those worlds we wanted to see- just there’s always something new.” Sora blurted out, his excitement burgeoning behind an uncontrollable grin. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward. “Sorry, I’m getting a bit too excited. I’ve been wanting to show you all these new things for so long. Every time I see something I think, “Kairi and Riku need to see this!”

Kairi giggled. Sora did seem to be holding in boundless energy every time she saw him. “I want to see it all with you. I mean, we always wanted to travel and learn everything we could. Even just seeing this world makes me want to go to all kinds of places with you- and Riku too…” Kairi tucked a stray piece of hair from her face. She felt almost embarrassed to say anything more- to tell him that really, she wanted to just run away with him right now. Leave it all behind. But that would be selfish, wouldn’t it? They had to face Xehanort. Even if that meant risking their lives. Still, that incredible wanderlust creaked within her bones. Even now her heart began to beat faster at the thought of Sora whisking her away to world after world. She could just picture it-brisk walks on stardust touched beaches, huddling close in frigid snow-kissed air, or dancing on the tips of their toes across warm cobblestones-

Everything. Just experience it all-together- hand in hand in a world all their own.

Kairi felt something lightly fall on her head. A light gasp escaped her lips at the sensation. It tickled her eyelashes as she looked up to greet Sora’s impish grin. Her hand reached up to touch the delicate petals of a ring of flowers he had placed on her head. Her eyes widened. “When did you…”

“Oh just while you were humming to yourself earlier. Did I do a good job? I mean I’m not as good at connecting them together as you…but I did have a good teacher.” Sora winked.

Tears pricked the edges of her eyes. When they were children, Kairi often spent her time near the shore picking small wildflowers and clover. One of the few things she remembered about her grandmother was her love of flowers and the way she used to weave together flower crowns. It used to make her feel like she was almost home again, weaving the flowers together, creating something from nothing. It was cathartic. For hours she would lose herself in the action- maybe that was why piecing shells together also soon became second nature. Once, Sora sat down next to her, and watched intently as she connected each stem of clover flower without asking any questions. When she was done, he told her how pretty it was and how “he wanted one too.”

For a few days after school, they would go down to the shore, make flower crowns, and pretend they were a King and Queen of the flower people. Well, the last part was entirely Sora’s idea. When she thought back on it- Kairi wondered if Sora did that to help her feel better about being homesick. She had missed her grandmother so badly back then. Every day she felt so alone. But then…Sora was there. And Riku…and the three of them found new things to do together.

Back then, Kairi hadn’t paid a second thought to the idea that most boys wouldn’t find what she was doing that interesting. Thinking about it now, Sora probably only said he wanted one too so she wouldn’t feel lonely- after all…she wasn’t the fastest runner or could hold her own at the time in a mock sword fight. What she was good at was making things, connecting flowers, shells, and bits of shattered sea glass into stars shapes or crowns. Her room back home was filled with makeshift stars, unfinished and marred imitations of the charm Sora now held close as an oath to her. Her childish fantasies of an unbreakable connection, made real and whole through a brush of their fingers as she passed the charm to him. Her fingertips warmed as she recalled his touch.

Now, with the newly coronated flower crown atop her reddened locks-Kairi felt that same bubbling joy well up inside her.

Kairi couldn’t believe Sora had still remembered that time or well had even retained his “flower-tying skills” as he used to call it. Sora had remembered a time that even she had pushed back deep into the depths of her heart. “I think that you retained some skill.” Kairi puffed out her chest. “But I think I’m still the master. So, I’m going to work my magic! It’s only fair that you have one to match.”

Sora chuckled and placed both hands behind his head. “Well, I guess we’re off flower picking then huh?” His hips swayed from side to side, his legs acting listless as if they hadn’t moved in hours.

Kairi bounced up on her heels, feeling a renewed vigor in her veins. “Yep! Lead the way, King!”

“King?” Sora’s jaw slacked. “Gosh, when you say it like that it only reminds me of “the King.”

Kairi lightly patted Sora on the shoulder. “Now, now.” Kairi chided. “There can be more than one King and Kings of different things. He may be “the King” but you- you’re my Flower King right?” An impish grin filled her cheeks. Sora blinked a few times before averting his eyes. She could swear a tinge of red was on the tips of his ears.

“Geez flower King? Don’t tell Riku, or Donald or Goofy- I’ll never live that down.”

“But I’m the flower Queen- we have to match!” Kairi pointed an accusatory finger at him. Sora jumped back a beat, his deep blue eyes tinged with uncertainty. Soon, his eyes swirled with glimmering sunshine, his smile so subtle she found herself itching to gently brush her fingers across his lips. Her cheeks heated at the thought.

“Okay, I mean if you are I have to be then.” Sora put a hand over his mouth to muffle a laugh. Though clearly uncomfortable, there was a hint of joy in those words. Poking fun at him like this was almost too nostalgic. With ease, she slid her hand into his and gave it a tight squeeze. He recoiled slightly before sheepishly squeezing her hand back. His eyes wouldn’t meet hers, but she knew- he was just a tad shy still.

Hand in hand they traversed the woods searching for violet, azure, and fuchsia hues. Their still bare feet brushing against rough patches of dirt and slick grass, staining their toes a light green as they went. The morning dew, still kissing the tips of their hair, kept them cool against the ever-rising sun. Every flower they came across seemed more beautiful than the rest- they gathered until they were spilling out onto the ground beneath them. Sora sneezed a few times, sending them flying much more than he would have liked. The air filled with laughter as they collected them all again, each time regretting having over-prepared their bounty.

They returned to the clearing in no time at all-and she set about her work. Connecting the flowers together wasn’t hard- but choosing which flowers suited Sora best- well that took some thinking. Baby’s breath, delicate and kind, hydrangeas as blue and calming as the sea, red carnations brandishing the passionate courage in his heart, and yellow calla lilies to represent his happy disposition. When she was done- it was a crown only befitting him. When she held it up against the light, the shadows cast across her face danced- truly she could think of it as her best work yet. Smirking and a bit too proud, Kairi stood up and delicately laid the crown atop her “King’s” head.

“I, Flower Queen Kairi dub thee- Sora- Flower King.” In a grand bow, Kairi placed a hand over her heart, glancing up at him with mischief and mirth.

Sora’s wide toothy grin greeted her. “It’s an honor!” He paused, searching his mind before snapping his fingers in the realization of something important. “Does it look Kingly?”

“I think it suits you, just as mine suits me.” Kairi spun on her heels, dancing as she delicately brushed the petals she adorned. She gave Sora a taunting wink as she thrust out her hand. “I’d say a dance is in order, sire.”

A deep laugh escaped his chest as Sora jumped up to grab her hand and pull her close. Their eyes connected as if a thread between them became taught, sure, and certain that the entire world around them could just melt away into nothing, and it would all be alright. One step, then two, a sway and a swish, he even threw in a twirl or two as they danced to the bubbling brook and twilling birds. The melody in their hearts flowed and swirled at a tempo that pulled her into a sense of weightlessness. The countless times she dreamed of the two of them, blissfully dancing, suddenly made it real.

It was real, him, her, this moment. It was a sensation, a scent, a feeling she wanted to bottle up and keep close- like an herbarium filled with preserved flowers. Bright, opulent, and ever so warm. As their dance slowed, and her heart settled, Kairi leaned her head on Sora’s shoulder, letting herself melt into his rising chest. It was then Kairi knew that home wasn’t ever far anymore. That homesickness had long flitted away like petals in the wind once she let Sora into her heart. Now, every time she thought of their memories, these moments, the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat…Kairi knew somehow she was always closer to home.

Years Before

*.*.*.*

The bluff at the edge of town was filled with clover flowers. Though she had been warned with a stern shake of the mayor’s finger, and a disapproving huff or two from the town elders, Kairi always found herself foraging for flowers here. The wind blowing through her hair, and the misty salt air gently caressing her chubby cheeks made her feel more at home here than anywhere else on the island. In the afternoon quiet, only the rumbling low roar of the waves had been keeping her company. Lightly and carefully, she hummed a melody as she worked, losing herself in knot after knot.

*.*.*.*

“What do you think she’s doing?” Sora muttered in a hushed tone, trying to keep his usually loud voice as quiet as possible. He was huddled on his haunches behind a large hedge, practically wiggling to keep himself from falling over. He and Riku had followed Kairi from a distance like two ducks up the winding hillside. When they had seen her leaving the Mayor’s house she had been stomping and letting out a long-winded sigh or two. Riku had said that she was “probably angry” and that it mostly had to do with her going off alone. Sora, being extremely curious about Kairi ever since she had arrived on the beach, had never not kept watch over her. So, Riku being Riku had suggested they follow her, knowing well that Sora would have found himself trailing after her absentmindedly.

Riku let out a sigh and shook his head. “She’s going to make something again. The last time she came back down from here she had a crown of flowers in her hands. That’s probably what she plans on doing.”

“Hmm, that seems more lonely than fun. She’s all by herself.” Sora pursed his lips, his nose scrunching up. He crossed his arms and readjusted his drooping bum with a light hop. “Seems like it’d be better to do with more people.”

Riku raised a brow, then smirked as he realized something important. “You know, if you want to join her nothing’s stopping you. We can go back to the play island any old time.”

“But it feels like if I go over now, I’d be like- I don’t know- I’d um make her mad…”

“Mad?”

“You always say I talk too much. Kairi seems a bit scared when I do that.” Sora looked down at his fidgeting toes. “Still, I think she’s lonely.”

“She just doesn’t know much about us yet. And well you do talk a lot. My dad says sometimes though that just being near someone without saying anything is enough.” Riku crossed his arms, and nodded, certain his father’s words were true.

“Really Riku?”

“Yeah, Really.” Riku put a hand on Sora’s head and gave his hair a quick ruffle. “Now, no more waiting!” Riku placed both hands on Sora’s back and pushed him forward- not even worried if he would fall over on his face. Usually, he did, and Sora had to brace himself for a fall that didn’t come. Instead, he found himself balancing on one foot and staring into the wide cerulean eyes of a frightened girl.

*.*.*.*

When a rustling bounded behind her Kairi gasped and found herself on her feet, her hands clutched close to her chest. A familiar head of spikes was what first caught her eyes, then the twigs and leaves sticking out every-which-way, followed by the shy grin of a boy caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Geez, Sora! You scared me!” Kairi tucked her hair behind her ear as if she were suddenly aware of her own messy mop.

“Sorry, Kairi! Me and Riku were just…” Sora paused to look behind him. Not a soul was in sight. “Aw man, where’d he go? We were just talking about…ugh never mind.” Sora stood up straight and puffed out his chest as he shook the stray twigs and leaves from his head. Once he was done, he placed both hands behind his head. “So…what-cha doing?”

“Making flower crowns…” Kairi mumbled under her breath, feeling herself carefully enunciate each word. Sora was nice, after all, he was the one who found her on the beach that day. But a part of her felt scared, nervous, and a bit rumbly in her tummy when she talked to him. He was always so bright, and his grin was wider than his face. Kairi didn’t know how to be around him. Kairi turned her back to him and smoothed the ends of her dress.

“Okay.” Sora uttered. He continued to stare at her, unmoved until she decided to sit back down among her work. As she picked more flowers, she began to take more glances over at Sora. He watched her intently, swaying from side to side on the edges of his sandals. He stayed that way for a beat then promptly plopped down next to her. Kairi’s breath hitched in her throat at the sudden invasion in her little bubble. But Sora didn’t say anything, although his face was twisted into an unnatural frown, alerting her he really did want to say something.

Kairi tried her best to get back to her crown, but she fumbled with shaky fingers as she tied the tiny stems together. Her lips moved into a fine line, her teeth biting down into the corners of her cheeks. Again, soon she became lost in the motions, not even noticing Sora get up and go look around. Moments later he dropped back down next to her, this time, with a handful of clovers.

“It’s really pretty.” Sora blurted out. His eyes were wide, expectant.

A shivering jolt went through her back, and Kairi shyly looked back down at her completed crown. He said it was pretty, what she made. A slight hint of pride wafted through her chest. “Thanks…”

“I-I want one too!” Sora’s voice was louder than he intended, for Kairi almost fell back at the sudden noise. She made sure to quickly put on a smile for the boy looked almost as if he would cry if he knew she was scared.

“Okay, I’ll teach you.” Kairi found a new strength in her voice. She was more confident now. A voice inside her heart, but from where she didn’t know, whispered caressing words.

Whenever you feel lonely, look to the flowers. Surround yourself with them, let them take root in your heart. Every moment may seem small, but you can make them bigger and more beautiful. For those moments when you’re alone, the flowers will remind you of me and of those who love you. That light in your heart will continue to bloom and grow, as long as you let it. Adorn your head with a crown of flowers, my dear. Adorn the head of the one you love. Find that light, never lose sight of it.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! This fic was inspired by the prompt King and Queen for SoKai Week 2021. Visiting Sora and Kairi's childhood and what they meant to each other during that time was pure joy. I hope that this little bundle of fluff reminds you of the wonder of picking flowers as a child, and how even the smallest acts of kindness can mean the world to someone else. I tried to add in some of Sora's flowers from his herbarium by super groupies as well as flowers that spoke to his personality. Fun fact: Clover flowers were something that I would gather when I was a child, and luckily they do grow at least in Hawaii at high elevations, so it's possible they could be on the mainland in Destiny Islands!

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#sokaiweek2021 #sokaiweek #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfiction #sokai #sora and kairi #kairi #sora #kingdomheartsfanfiction #KH #kingdomhearts

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

Text

Jeremy's Dangerous Job

Jeremy is working one of his first nights on the shift. When the animatronics break into the office, he starts to defend himself and fight to save his own life.

Sooooo...I thought it was FNAF day because it went spreading through the Discord. And...I found out that FNAF day, is actually August 8th. So I feel dumb! But, I still wanted to upload this one because I liked it and cause I wanna! So, I hope you enjoy anyway!

Jeremy looked at the different rooms on the cameras and listened for any sounds of running or clanging.

Nothing so far.

Jeremy straightened up his hat and checked the windows on either side for any animatronics.

Nothing so far.

Jeremy winded up the music box and sighed as he sat down on the chair, growing bored. As much as it calmed him to see no animatronics getting ‘quirky’ as the phone guy told him, it also made his night a little boring. He decided to let his guard down for a few minutes…

Suddenly, Jeremy’s flashlight malfunctioned for a couple seconds! Jeremy’s anxiety heightened for a second as he quickly stood guard. When the flashlight finally turned on, it revealed that Chica was standing there in front of him...just staring at him with its black eyes. Not wanting to get caught, Jeremy kept an eye on the animatronic. He wasn’t entirely worried about Chica being there, so long as he doesn’t get any closer.

He? She? What gender was Chica?

Jeremy paused to wind up the music box again.

Jeremy was pretty sure Bonnie was a female, thanks to the heavy eyelashes it had. Same for Chica. Not only that, but both Bonnie and Chica had ‘eyeshadow’ on. The only difference between the two, was that Bonnie had red blush on, and Chica had pink blush on. Maybe the blush colors help identify the genders? He didn’t know.

Jeremy soon considered just using ‘it’ as a pronoun instead. They shouldn’t be alive, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Jeremy got out of his thoughts and took a quick flip through a couple cameras:

He winded up the music box up to full before flipping through all the cameras. Bonnie had moved to the party table room, and was now looking at the camera. Wonderful. Not creepy at all. Freddy was nowhere to be seen on the cameras. However, Jeremy wasn't nearly as worried due to Freddy Fazbear not being on any of the cameras near his room. So, he had ‘nothing to worry about!’...for now.

Jeremy put down the monitors and was about to let his guard down again, when a clanging sound quickly filled his ears! He clicked the lights to check the vents, but there was nothing. He pulled out the tablet and checked the vent cameras.

He turned on the flashlight in the right vent: Bonnie was crawling in the right vent.

How did Bonnie get that close?!

He moved to the left vent and turned on the flashlight:

Oh fuck...Chica was crawling in the left vent.

This was NOT good. It was only 3 am. He still had 3 more hours to go!

He checked up on the vents as he looked, checking from both available angles the progress the animatronics had made. Chica and Bonnie seemed to remain still for a bit. So, he took that time to stay on top of the music box. Once that was done, he checked one more time for any progress.

As he checked the vents and the hall, Jeremy’s flashlight malfunctioned again. Damn...that must mean someone’s in the hall. With Bonnie and Chica in the vents, only 1 other animatronic could be in the hall: Freddy.

Jeremy kept an eye on Freddy as he checked the vents for progress. He turned on the right vent light-

BONNIE IS STARING AT HIM.

He tried to reach for the Fazbear head he had, but it was too low!

Suddenly Bonnie jumped at Jeremy, causing him to SCREAM! Jeremy fell out of his chair and scooted away as quickly as he could.

Bonnie kept making animatronic growling noises and stomped its way closer and closer to Jeremy.

“OH FUCK! OH FUCK! GET AWAY! STAY AWAY FROM ME!” Jeremy kicked the animatronic’s leg with the bottom of his foot as hard as he could. But Bonnie barely moved. All Bonnie did was look down at its own leg. It was barely damaged. Not even a scratch mark was on it.

Jeremy scooted another foot back. “St-stay away! I’m warning you!” Jeremy warned, looking around for a weapon of some sort. Suddenly, Jeremy got up and by some miracle, he ran past Bonnie to the desk. He picked up the fan that was there, and unplugged it. “I-I have a…” He looked down at the object. “I have a fan! And I’m not afraid to use it!”

Bonnie tilted his head. “What?”

Jeremy whined a bit. “I- Yeah! A fan! These things are-” Jeremy knocked on the fan and ended up knocking some dust off of it. “Strong.” Jeremy ended his sentence. The dust that fell ended up going into his nose, causing him to bend over and sneeze. “Aaah fuck.”

Suddenly, Freddy walked to the end of the hallway, to the empty door frame. “Hello sir! Welcome to Freddy Faz-”

“AAAAAHH!” Jeremy spun around and hit Freddy right in the face with the fan!

Freddy blinked in surprise as the fan grill stuck onto his nose. “...Fazbear’s Pizza. Are you okay, sir?” Freddy asked.

Jeremy let go of the fan and backed up. “Y-You...can-can TALK?!”

Freddy let out a robotic, yet somewhat realistic chuckle. “We can sing too!” Freddy started singing one of the most popular Fazbear Band’s songs.

Freddy groaned and covered his ears. “I haaate this sooong.” Jeremy complained.

Freddy stopped singing and sent Jeremy a confused look. “Really? Why?”

“Cause they’re so stupid!” Jeremy said back. “The songs bring shame to the entire genre we call rock and roll!”

Chica crawled itself out of the vent and stared at Jeremy. “That’s rude. We sing those songs all the time!”

“I know. They’re overplayed.” Jeremy told them. “I’d rather die than hear that song.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” Freddy asked as he reached out for him.

Jeremy shouted and ran. “AAAH NO WAIT! THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT! I SWEAR!” Jeremy jumped onto the top of the desk and ran down the middle hallway.

“Wow...What a scaredy cat.” Bonnie muttered out loud.

Bonnie laughed. “He probably believes we’re gonna kill them. What a weirdo!” He reacted.

Chica giggled as Freddy rubbed his chin. “Should we go along with it?”

Chica looked at Freddy with excitement in her black eyes. “Yes! That would be so fun! We could make him believe we’re gonna kill him!”

Bonnie smirked. “What should we do when we catch him? Cause if we’re not gonna kill him, we minus well do something.”

Freddy thought for a moment before gasping and squeezing Bonnie’s side. “We could do this thing on him!”

Bonnie looked down and watched as he squeezed. “I...I don’t get it.”

“I’ve seen mothers do it to their kids, in many different spots.” Freddy told them.

Freddy grabbed a cord near the TV, and plugged it into the back of his head. Quickly, a video taken in Freddy’s perspective, showed a kid laughing while his Mom squeezed his sides, before wiggling her fingers on her kids’ socked feet. The kid looked like he was loving it!

“See? It makes them laugh! I don’t know why it does, but we could try it!” Freddy suggested.

“Hmmm...I like it!” Chica replied.

Bonnie looked up at Freddy with curiosity in his eyes. “Okay. And if that doesn’t work?”

“I don’t know.” Freddy responded.

“Let’s go then! He’s already got a big head start!” Chica suggested, climbing up to the hall and running off. Freddy and Bonnie ran after her eagerly.

Jeremy was hiding in the party room, scared to even move. But his fears only escalated as he heard stomping animatronics walking around. “Night guard? Where did you go?” someone asked.

Jeremy widened his eyes and shrunk down more. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here. He’s not here. “Hmmm...I wonder...is he hiding in the party rooms?” someone else asked. It sounded like it might’ve been Bonnie.

Suddenly, a smaller animatronic came hopping over near his hiding spot. Uh oh...That’s not good. The little animatronic appeared to be Balloon boy. It kept hopping around, looking around for him. When it walked right past him, Jeremy let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes with a smile.

But then…

“Hi.”

Jeremy opened his eyes and just about peed his pants: BALLOON BOY WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!

“Haha!” Balloon Boy laughed.

Jeremy kicked Balloon Boy down to the ground and immediately got up. “No no no no no no- OH NO-” Jeremy slid right into the arms of Bonnie.

“I got him! Guys! I got him!” Bonnie cheered.

Chica and Freddy ran up to him with smiles on their faces. “Perfect! Now to get you stuffed.” Freddy declared, rubbing his hands together.

Jeremy shrieked and started wiggling and shouting in fear and paranoia. This was it! He was gonna get stuffed into the suit just like those kids, and he was gonna be crushed to death. As Freddy picked him up, Freddy closed his eyes and started begging and praying to himself. Please don’t let him die. Not now, not in the prime of his life!

Suddenly, Jeremy was knocked out of his thoughts by a swinging feeling. Jeremy opened his eyes and yelped as he saw the world around him was upside down! The man had been completely flipped upside down and was being held by Freddy! His shirt was falling up thanks to this unusual circumstance.

“Look at this! This is a grown child! We’ll have lots of room to work with.” Bonnie declared.

“Hey look!” Chica looked at the flipped up shirt that revealed his belly. “Hey wow! This isn’t his skin. This is a skin cover!” Chica reacted. Suddenly, she poked his bare belly.

“What- aaAAEEK! Hey!” Jeremy yelped.

“What? Are you scaaaaarrred?” Chica teased as she squeezed his belly once.

Jeremy pulled his shift back down to cover up his belly. “NOho! Ihi’m not! Stop that!”

“Wow! You were right! Squeezes DO make kids laugh! And it looks like grown children don’t outgrow it! Talk about lucky!” Chica reacted.

Jeremy kept the shirt overtop of his belly. Despite not being able to see the belly anymore, Chica just continued to poke it. Jeremy guffawed in surprise and shook a little. “Dohon’t dohoho that!” Jeremy ordered, letting his left hand go of his shirt and trying to defend his belly.

In response, Chica grabbed his wrist and held him partly up with it. “Look at this!” Chica started poking and scratching his armpit.

“AAHAHAHA! No, let go!” Jeremy started trying to cover up his armpit next with his free right arm. But as soon as Jeremy had started swinging it, Chica had grabbed his hand and pinned it up with his other hand! “NOO! Chica, let go of me! You too, Freddy!” Jeremy ordered.

“Why?” Freddy asked as Bonnie walked up to Jeremy.

Jeremy tried to contort his body away from the blue robot. “Because I did NOT sign up for thihIHIHIHIS!” Jeremy’s protests were interrupted the moment Bonnie had squeezed his side. “NAHAHAHAHAHOHOHO! GEHEHET OHOHOFFFF!”

“No way! We had plans to kill you! And what better way to guarantee a happy ending, than making you laugh?” Freddy told him.

Jeremy shook his head as Freddy let go of his feet. Jeremy’s lower body swung back and forth from the foot drop and lightly hit Chica’s legs as they swung. As soon as his legs and feet were free, Jeremy started kicking wildly. Next, Freddy started scratching his big fingers on both his armpits.

“OHOHO GEHEHEHEEZ NOHOHOHOHO! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jeremy laughed hysterically. “NOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!”

Freddy paused his scratching. “What was that?”

Jeremy huffed and panted a little. *huff* “I...H-Huh?”

Freddy knelt down and leaned closer. “What did you say?”

Jeremy widened his eyes and hid his face in his own arm. “NO NO NO! DON’T KILL ME! I’M BEGGING YOU!” he quickly protested.

Freddy hung his head and laughed. “You still think we’re gonna kill you?” Freddy asked.

Jeremy slowly opened one of his eyes. “You-...you’re not...gonna…”

“Why would we kill you? We were meant to entertain children and families! Not kill them!” Chica replied.

Jeremy looked at them. “I...I was told they killed children and stuffed people in suits!” Freddy told him. “I...thought...you were gonna...do that to me.”

“Is that why you hit me with the fan?” Freddy asked.

Jeremy nodded. “I...I had to defend myself somehow.”

“And just for that:” Freddy flicked Jeremy’s forehead.

“Ow.” Jeremy muttered.

“That’s for being a dummy.” Freddy responded. Next, Freddy lifted up Jeremy’s shirt and started squeezing and wiggling his fingers wherever he could reach. “And now I’m gonna treat you like the child you are!”

Jeremy squeaked and squeezed his fists shut while he kicked his feet everywhere. “STAHAHAHAP! IHIHIHI’M SAHAHAHARRYHYHYHYHY! THIHIHIS IHIHISN’T FAHAHAHAHAIR!”

“Assuming we’re killing machines isn’t very fair either! And yet you run away like a coward, and insult us for the songs we sing daily! So now you’re gonna have to deal with what you did.” Freddy responded.

He moved his fingers back to Jeremy’s armpits and tickled them a little more deeply. “AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHE AHAHARMPIHIHITS!” He begged.

“Oh? Still complaining? Well, looks like I’m staying here for a while!” Freddy declared.

While Freddy was tickling his armpits for minutes without stopping, Bonnie had grabbed one of his kicking feet and started removing the shoe. “NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAIT BOHOHONNIHIHIHIHIE!” Jeremy begged.

“Wait...what? ‘Wait! I’m dying! I’m dying!’?” Bonnie asked.

“YEHEHEHEHESS! IHIHIHI’M DYHYHYHYIHIHING!” He yelled back.

“I have some unfortunate news for you, night guard:” Bonnie pulled off the sock and started tickling his foot. “I don’t care!”

Jeremy squealed like a balloon losing air and immediately fell into a fit of cackles! “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOHOU’RE KIHIHIHILLIHIHIHING MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Jeremy yelled through his laughs and cackles.

“I know I’m killing you! It’s our ‘goal’!” Freddy responded.

Jeremy ended up stuck in their ticklish grasp for another 20 minutes. Though the tickling seemed almost harsh, it really wasn’t meant to be. Jeremy seemed to have calmed down from his fears. He slowly learned that the animatronics were actually telling the truth: They weren’t gonna kill him. They just wanted to see who was there in the middle of the night and if they were lucky, socialize with them.

But one thing remained unanswered for Jeremy: Were the old animatronics the same way? Were they more social than murderous? Or...did they secretly want him dead?

#background characters #anxiety #fear of death #ticklefic #ler!animatronics #lee!jeremy

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troop-scoop · 4 years ago

Text

Youth II

Chapter Two - Common Interest

Word count: 2.9k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: With the disappearance of Will Byers, you lend a helping hand to try an find the missing 12 year old boy.

A/n: forgive me for posting a second chapter on the same day as the first. I just need to get this one out before I lose my mind.

⟛⟛

You’d spent plenty of time staring off into space with your thoughts racing, you’d done it plenty at school, but this wasn’t right, it didn’t feel right and you hated it. Sure, you had plenty of odd experiences growing up, things you used to think were normal for other people, but apparently, they weren’t. And when you’d realized that, you kept them to yourself. But this wasn’t just something you were seeing, this was real, and you knew it, and everything else paled in comparison to this level of oddness.

Why was it always small towns? When you hear about missing people or cold cases that seem to throw police and detectives for a loop it always took place in small towns, quiet ones that people described as great to raise your kids in, places people settled down in to get away from the big cities.

When you’d been getting things together to leave for the day, you’d briefly heard about a missing kid, but hadn’t heard the name before you were slamming the motel door behind you to get to school, hopping down the walkway to the stairs trying to get your shoes on.

It wasn’t right, you would have known about this. Wouldn’t you? Sure, your dad never really talked much about his home town unless it was fond memories with his childhood friends, your uncles, but this was huge, something that should have at least been mentioned.

You had zoned out of the conversation happening next to you, ignoring every detail about the party Steve was throwing that night. You’d already declined on going to, much to both Steve and Carol’s disappointment. Carol mentioned how she was desperate to have another girl in their friend group, while Steve didn’t have much to say, just saying to come with him to find Nancy Wheeler.

“Oh, God, that’s depressing.”

Steve’s tone wasn’t what you would consider empathetic, it was rather that of someone who didn’t want to see what was happening.

Tommy, Barbara, Nancy, Steve, and Carol all looked to the subject of your staring, their eyes all landing on Jonathan Byers using a thumbtack to put a missing person flyer on the bulletin board near the front office.

“Should we say something?” Nancy questioned.

“I don’t think he speaks.”

“How much you want to bet he killed him?” At that, you turned your head and glared at Tommy, as Steve hit his chest a friendly yet serious “Shut up.” being said before you turned back to look at Jonathan.

Nancy walked towards him, leaving the rest of you to stand and wait. The only real thing you could think about was how when you were 11, you had been with your parents, uncle, aunt and cousins, helping your uncle and aunt pack things to move to a new house, and when you’d been left alone, you’d found a box full of old things and you’d dug through it, curiosity getting the best of you. You’d gotten to an old yearbook, labeled ‘1984-1985.’ and before you could ever flip through half of it, your uncle had snatched it away from you, and without saying a word, he’d grabbed the box and left the room.

“You alright?” Barabara asked you, reaching out to hold your shoulder, it brought the other three’s attention to you as well. You didn’t really know Barbara, but you knew she had good grades, and sometimes tutored students in the library after school.

“Yeah, peachy.” was your response, turning your attention back to the conversation Nancy was having with Jonathan, everything being said completely unknown to all of you with the distance.

The bell rang, and students began to frantically move, like cockroaches when you turned a light on. Scattering as quick as they could, but Barabara kept a hand on your shoulder, and in your peripheral vision you could make out her concerned look. Watching as Nancy came back over to the group of students Barbara took her hand off of your shoulder, everyone turning to walk down the hall once Nancy was there. But you were stalling, taking slow uneasy steps, barely keeping your eyes off of Jonathan, but when you knew that the group of students wouldn’t notice you weren’t with them, you turned back around, to see Jonathan heading for the doors.

“Jonathan!” You called out, jogging after him, seeing him stop just as he reached the metal and glass door. Catching up you placed your hands on your hips, trying to think of what to say. “Where we going?”

“What?” Jonathan questioned, brows furrowed as he looked at you, both his hands on the push bar of the door.

“Where we going? Wanna hear it French? Ou Allons nous?”

“We are not going anywhere. You have to go to. . .” Jonathan looked at the small notebook you held between two fingers, reading the angry red scribble on the front that said ‘Math’ “Mr. Swann’s?”

You breathed out through your nose, dropping your notebook. “Not anymore. Where are we going? This is about your brother, right? I wanna help.”

Jonathan sighed a bit, looking down at the linoleum floor before back up at you. “Why?”

“Common interest.” You told him.

“Our English project doesn’t have anything to do with-”

“This isn’t about Romeo and Juliet, moron. This is about your brother. Listen I just. . . everything about this, makes my stomach churn, I need to see him come back home alive. See? Common interest.”

Jonathan gave an absent-minded nod, the look on his face telling you he knew that feeling. “Indianapolis.” He told you, opening the door and barely stepping out, with you hot on his heels. But he stopped suddenly, turning back to you, holding a finger up. “But you stay out of it, Lonnie isn’t too friendly, and I've seen him angry. If I tell you to go back to the car, you go, understand?”

“You’re not my dad, if I see things start going south, I’m getting both of us out of there.” You told him. “Teamwork makes the dream work, now go before I stomp on your shoes, and there’s no guarantee that I won’t give you a flat tire on the way to the car.”

⟛⟛

Sitting in the passenger seat, you looked to the radio, eyes on the station number as the familiar intro to a song began on the radio. The first time you remembered hearing the song, you were four and had woken up from a nap to the smell of macaroni and cheese, and the sound of your newborn baby brother sneezing in his sleep in the crib on the other side of the room. The music was being played from the living room stereo, loudly. But one thing about being raised by your dads was that you had to adapt to loud music being played. Even Daniel had adapted to it at a few weeks old. You’d gotten out of bed and gotten to the living room, where the stereo was on, and your dad in the kitchen, putting some of the macaroni in one of your bowls and one of his own.

The last time you remembered listening to that song was when your cousins had convinced you to go with them into town, Torrey being the one with the idea, and with her speaker, playing a random playlist. You remembered that she skipped the song halfway through.

Torrey never had a good track record, that was for sure, she was always in trouble, much to your uncle Mike’s dismay. But you and James were always the more reasonable ones out of all of you. But Torrey was the oldest, and as a result, like the older sister, and everyone wanted to be like their cool older sister. So whatever she suggested the lot of you do, you did it.

That always resulted in trouble. The only one who could ever reason with all of you was Uncle Dustin, of course, it had to be the uncle who didn’t have kids. It annoyed Mike, Lucas, and your dad to no end that when with Torrey, they couldn’t get through to any of you.

But, Torrey wasn’t technically your oldest cousin. No, that was Rob. Your uncle’s oldest son. But he was a bit over a decade older than you, so you didn’t really know him all too well. Torrey was almost a decade older, just short two years.

“This the place?” you asked, looking past Jonathan trying to see through the foggy window, rain pouring down onto the pavement outside, and tapping gently on the windows and roof of the car. The fogged-up window told you it was cold out there, and warmer inside.

“Yeah. . .”

“Lonnie’s. . . Who is Lonnie, exactly?” You questioned, unbuckling the seatbelt as Jonathan did the same.

“Our dad,” Jonathan answered, opening his car door and getting out. You reached into the backseat, grabbing your coat as a sudden and startling cool gust of wind hit you, sending goosebumps up your neck and arms. Jumping a bit you looked to the door, seeing that Jonathan had gotten it for you. “Come on.” he rushed you.

You didn’t know if you wanted to go up to the house that the teenage boy was eyeing, you knew that if you’d never heard about Lonnie before, it was for a reason. Likely a good one.

Stepping out of the car, you pulled your jacket on just as Jonathan closed the passenger door for you, heading to the run-down home across the street. You followed shortly after, feeling your ankles begin to get wet as drops of rain-soaked through the canvas material of your shoes.

Standing under the overhang of the front porch you watched as Jonathan looked through the glass of the front door, music from either a television or stereo being hear from outside, over the rain. Jonathan knocked on the door. “Hello?” He shouted.

“Maybe he’s not home?”

Jonathan gave a bitter scoff as he continued to bang on the door insistently before you heard a woman’s voice yell out something indistinct. And before you could process it, the front door was opened.

“Can I help you?” She demanded.

“Yeah, is Lonnie around?” Jonathan asked, his body language giving off just as much attitude as her but his voice remaining calm.

“Yeah, he’s out back. What do you want?”

“To look around.” and with that, Jonathan stepped past her into the house, with you following right behind.

The living area had warm lighting from the lamps, with the absence of an overhead light. And the tv that was small by your standards had M.TV on. It was a mess, with things seemingly tossed around, it felt like the beginning of a hoarder’s home before it got worse and it was filmed for a stupid television show.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Hey!” The woman yelled after the two of you. You were hot on Jonathan’s heels, keeping in mind what he said about his father. You’d rather stick close.

“We’ll be fast, promise!” you told her.

“Hey, Will?” Jonathan questioned, going down the hallway, looking into doorways, calling out his younger brother’s name in a more urgent tone while you gave a longer look into each room.

Jonathan turned around from the last room, shaking his head and looking at you, going to walk back out of the hall. But just as he came to the end, a man slammed Jonathan against the wall, holding the collar of his sherpa jean jacket. You jumped back, just before Jonathan shoved who you were now assuming was Lonnie. “Get off!”

“Damn, you’ve gotten stronger.” The older man gave a shove to Jonathan’s shoulder, looking past the two males you saw the woman from the front door.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?”

Lonnie looked at her, then back at Jonathan and then to you, before doing the opposite. “Jonathan, Cynthia. Cynthia this is Jonathan. My oldest. I don’t know who this little lady is.”

Lonnie shoved Jonathan’s shoulder again before pulling him into a hug. “Get off me, man.” Jonathan pushed him off.

The look on Lonnie’s face was that of pure cluelessness as if he didn’t understand why Jonathan would shove him away like that. But with how Jonathan had briefly spoken about him and how he had just acted, you knew the relationship wasn’t what you’d expect of a father and son.

Lonnie turned his gaze to you, “Who’s she?” He asked, looking to Jonathan again.

“A friend,” you responded. Sure, you and Jonathan weren’t all that close, but in this situation, you were sure he needed one, and even if you weren’t technically ‘friends’ he would know he had someone in his corner. “We’re looking for Will.”

“I already talked to the cops. He’s not here and he never has been.”

“Right, well, I think everyone gets a little nervous when they see and talk to cops, if Will’s here I doubt he would have come out when police were here.”

Lonnie looked as though he was trying to process what you had said. “If it makes you two feel better you can look around.”

“Hm, gladly,” you responded.

Jonathan and you spent a few moments in the rundown house, and once the rain had let up, Jonathan went outside, with you and Lonnie both trailing behind.

“Take a look at this beaut. Should’ve seen it when I got it. Took me a year, but it’s almost done.” Lonnie spoke about the car Jonathan was headed toward, opening the trunk once he reached the back. “Really? Do you want to check up my ass, too? I told you the same thing I told those cops, he’s not here and he never has been.”

“Then why didn’t you call Mom back?”

“I don’t know, I just. . . I assumed she forgot where he was. You know, he was lost or something. That boy was never very good at taking care of himself.”

“This isn’t some joke, all right? There are search parties, reporters. . .”

The way Lonnie was treating the situation made you uncomfortable. He didn’t care. It was clear he didn’t with the new information that Jonathan’s mother had called him, and he never answered or called back, how he lived a two-hour drive away and seemed to be talking about anything else but Will.

“Hopper’s not still chief, is he? Tell your mother she’s gotta get you out of that hellhole. Come out here to the city. People are more real here, you know? And then I could see you more.”

“If you wanted to see them more you wouldn’t have made the choice to live so far away.” You interrupted. You knew full well that had your parents ever split in an ugly way like it seemed Lonnie and Joyce had, neither of your fathers would move so far away that it felt like two different worlds. They’d stay close together so both you and your brother still had both of them. “Sounds like shitty parenting on your part, not her’s.”

Lonnie looked at you and tilted his head. “What? You think I don’t want to see my boys?”

“It’s kinda obvious that you don’t.” You responded, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Has Jonathan let you be around his mother? Because you sound just like her. Speaking of her, does she even know you’re here?” Lonnie turned back to Jonathan. You didn’t even know the answer to that, but Jonathan’s silence was an answer. “Great. So one kid goes missing, the other one runs wild? Some real fine parenting right there. Look, all I’m saying is, maybe I’m not the asshole, all right?”

Though Lonie couldn’t see it, you were glaring at him, but Jonathan could, and he gave you a look before reaching into his shoulder bag, pulling out a poster. A copy of the one he’d put up at school. “In case you forgot what he looks like,” Jonathan grumbled, shoving the poster into Lonnie’s chest as he walked away. Gesturing for you to follow.

The two of you walked around the house instead of through it, with small water droplets coming down once again as you crossed the street to the car.

“He’s a prick.” You mumbled as you passed Jonathan to get to the passenger side. Jonathan stared at you for a second.

“Y/n.”

You had grabbed onto the handle of the car door when he said your name, catching your attention. “Yeah?”

“Why do you care? You’re new in Hawkins, you’ve only been there for a few months, and you care about this more than people who have known me and Will since were kids. You’ve never even seen Will.”

You looked down at the pavement beneath you. The smell of rain invading your nose, calming you down just a bit. “Common interest.” You repeated what you had said before.

He didn’t look convinced with how his face seemed to harden and become far more serious. “Look,” You started, letting go of the handle resting your hands on the roof of the car. “Will’s alive, he has to be. I know he is. If I told you how I know, you’d call me crazy. I care about you, your brother and your mom. Lonnie? Not so much. . . Just. . . trust me, okay?”

Jonathan didn’t say anything or even do anything else in response. He opened the driver’s door and got in his seat, tossing his bag into the back as you did the same, buckling yourself in and looking out the window.

⟛⟛

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#steve x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction

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