#prompt 16 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kybercrystals94 · 6 months

Text

Everyday We’ve Got

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 16|Prompt 16: “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Rating: G

Words: 696

Summary: Hunter wonders what will happen to Omega when they’re gone.

“She’s going to be alone someday.”

Echo’s awareness is ripped out of report he was reading. “What?”

Hunter doesn’t look at him, his eyes fixated on the little girl chasing Wrecker through the tall grass, their laughter floating over the clean, clear air. Hunter’s face is drawn, and he absently kneads his right thumb into the palm of his left hand. “How long do you suppose the Kaminoans planned for clones to live? Naturally, I mean. If we weren’t killed during the war.”

“Honestly, I don’t think the long necks thought that far ahead,” Echo says.

Hunter nods. “Tech said that the average human lives to approximately 75 standard years. But for us that would be halved, since clones age twice as fast. So, if we’re lucky, we might live for 35 standard years.” Hunter clears his throat, but doesn’t say anything else.

“And Omega will still be a young woman,” Echo finishes for him.

Hunter nods again, jaw tightening.

“For what it’s worth,” Echo says, “I don’t think Omega will be ever alone. That kid has got a good head on her shoulders, and an affinity to finding friends in the strangest places.” Echo breathes a laugh, but Hunter only smirks grimly.

“Well, that affinity also gets her into trouble,” Hunter mutters.

Echo chuckles. “She’s still a kid, Sarge. But she’s still got us.” Echo nudges Hunter in the shoulder with a fist. “She’s still got you.”

A shrill, delighted squeal pierces the air, and the two men see Wrecker scooping Omega up and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack. He starts walking up the hill toward the tree Hunter and Echo have been sitting against the past half hour while the two of them played.

Echo continues before the roughhousing duo are in earshot. “Supposing you’re right, and we’ve got 35 years in this galaxy…that means we have a little over twenty years left, right?”

“I suppose.”

“Then I say,” Echo says, keeping his voice low, “that we make the most of everyday we’ve got with her.”

Hunter is looking at him now, the sadness still lingering in his eyes. But there is an edge of hope that wasn’t there before.

That’s the moment Wrecker lumbers up, a giggling Omega still draped over his shoulder.

“Look what I found! A wild Omega,” Wrecker crows, “You know they’re rare in these parts?”

“Put me down!” Omega squeaks out through her breathless laughter.

“Mouthy little thing,” Wrecker goes on, “Can we keep her?”

Hunter cracks a smile. “I don’t know. Tech doesn’t like pets on his ship.”

“Hey!” Omega cries, wiggling around in Wrecker’s grip so she can turn her head to see Hunter.

“I think he’d like this one,” Wrecker says. “She’s pretty smart.”

“And the Marauder could use a mascot,” Echo puts in.

“Guys!” Omega whines good-naturedly.

Wrecker laughs and swings Omega off his shoulder, setting her gently on her feet. She smiles brightly up at all of them, but her focus hones on Hunter. “I like this planet! How long are we going to stay?” she asks.

“Probably only until Tech is done with inventory,” Hunter says.

“Can we stay through the night cycle? We can have a campfire!” Omega bounces on her toes, and she reaches out to grasp Hunter’s hand. “Wrecker told me all about campfires, and they sound like the best thing ever!”

“Yeah, Hunter, can we?” Wrecker asks, sounding, if possible, more hopeful than their sister.

Hunter exchanges a glance with Echo, and Echo grins and shrugs. “It is a nice planet. Might as well make the most of it,” he says.

The Sergeant keeps his gaze for only a moment, a silent acknowledgement, before he looks down at the golden-haired child in their care. “Sure, kid. A campfire sounds like a good plan.”

Omega gasps delightedly. “Thank you, Hunter! This is going to be so much fun!”

Later that night, around a crackling, roaring campfire, Omega falls asleep tucked into Hunter’s side, and Hunter holds her close. “Someday,” he whispers, “I’m gonna go where you can’t follow…but while you’ve got me, little one, I’ll protect you to the ends of the galaxy. I promise.”

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tag List!✨

116 notes · View notes

writing-promptsss · 23 days

Text

Prompt #16 (when she's insecure)

"I'm not as attractive as other women though."

"Girl, darn it. Do you know how many men stared at you while we walked to the café? And you're only wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. Goodness knows what would happen if you were more daring with your clothing choice. I would have to be armed to the teeth to be able to keep them off of you."

@largefluff <3 <3

24 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 11 months

Note

I got a challenge for you with the writing prompts 👀 use 16, 17 AND 18 together. (Steddie, obviously)

16. "Excuse you?"

17. "This is all your fault!"

18. "I shouldn't be in love with you."

You’re choice on who says what 😌 (also doesn’t have to end happy, but we do love our angst w/happy endings)

Ooh I love this!!! I hope you didn’t necessarily mean in order, because, well… you’ll see. 😉

Dustin’s face is red. There are tears streaking down his face. Steve’s heart breaks as he reaches for Dustin and gets pushed away.

“This is all your fault!” Dustin screams, and Steve feels his fractured heart break irreparably.

“What?” He whispers, unable to believe he had heard correctly.

“It’s your fault!” Dustin insists, still crying. “If you hadn’t said what you did, Eddie would still be alive!”

Somehow, Steve’s heart breaks more. “Dustin-”

“No!” Dustin yells, pushing Steve away once more. “Just- just leave me alone!” He turns away, and no amount of pleading makes him turn back.

Steve leaves. Doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s at the cemetery, sitting in front of Eddie’s headstone. His body isn’t here; it’s still in the Upside Down somewhere. Steve will never forgive himself for that. He thinks, distantly, that he’s numb, in shock.

A dull laugh tears its way out of his throat. “He said it’s my fault,” he says. “Dustin, that is.” His throat clicks when he tries to swallow. “Said if I hadn’t said what I did, you’d still be alive. I hope- God, I hope that isn’t true. I don’t know what I’d do if it is. And I know he’s just looking for someone to blame, he’s grieving, I get that, but… it hurt. Y’know? Cause I thought we were past all that… that bullshit. Of thinking I’m still King Steve. Of thinking I’m not good enough, no matter what I do. Of thinking it’s not tearing me apart.” He shakes his head. Vaguely realizes he’s crying. “I just… God, I feel so stupid saying this, but… if there’s any way… just. Give me some sort of sign. Let me move on, at least. Let me be strong for everyone else still grieving you.”

He waits a few minutes, not terribly hopeful, but waxing more disappointed as the time passes. “I’m, uh. I’m choosing to believe there’s nothing you can do, instead of thinking you can’t hear me or something. I’m gonna come back, I swear. I dunno about the kids, but I know you love- um. You loved them. And you’d want to know how they’re doing. So I’ll at least tell you about them.”

Another minute passes as he wrestles his emotions under control, wiping the last errant tears from his eyes. “Same time next week?” He asks, imagining Eddie would grin and wink at him, say something like, “As long as you’re paying!”

With that thought, Steve stands and leaves.

He’s back next week. Says, as soon as he sits down, “Dustin’s not mad at me anymore, so that’s something. I think Claudia probably talked some sense into him. He’s just kinda… listless, now. Will too. I think, uh. I think he was hoping to talk to you. I dunno…” he sighs, tries to organize his thoughts. “I’m safe. That’s first of all. So if you are… it’s fine. Robin showed me a zine she brought back from a trip to Indy. Apparently the handkerchief means something. I didn’t know that until, like, three days ago. And it’s not that Will’s gonna start putting a hanky in one of his back pockets, but… I’ve seen the way he looks at Mike, y’know? And I wish I could help but I’ve got no experience with guys. Robin would be willing, but…” he chuckles. “She’s strictly into boobies. Which is kind of an inside joke, for us. Y’know she came out to me in a Starcourt bathroom while we were high off our asses with Russian truth serum? That’s one of the apocalypses we helped avert. Well, the Russians themselves weren’t the apocalypse. There was… well. It’s a whole thing. Billy Hargrove, remember him? He got mind-controlled. I hit him with a car because he was gonna kill Nance and them. He was fine, it wasn’t really him, y’know? Then he sacrificed himself. I’ve seen Max cry twice in the time that I’ve known her. She didn’t even cry when she sprained her ankle trying to land a flip. But she cried then. God, she was inconsolable. And he sacrificed himself for her. I think, for a while, she wished it had been her, instead of him.” He sighs, stands, smiles wanly at Eddie’s name. “Edmund, huh?”

He imagines Eddie’s smirk. “No relation to the Pevensies,” he’d say with a wink and a bow, “though I, too, came out of a closet.”

So it goes, week after week, month after month. The days get shorter and colder, then longer and warmer.

“Will came to me a few days ago,” he whispers one spring day. “Scared outta his mind. But he did it, and he was so brave, and I told him what I could.” He manages a smirk. “And it turns out we’re not too different after all. I’ve been… thinking, recently. And talking to Robin, and man, that was a trip. Turns out the normal, straight amount of flirting with the guys is zero. I don’t think I’m the only one to blame, though, because thinking back on it, Tommy got really close sometimes, before we fell out, and Billy had that whole… thing going on, which I honestly figured was just California bully, but it turns out no, they probably weren’t straight either. Which. That took me a few days to digest. So I’ve been thinking about it and I think I just… never let myself like guys? But I definitely like both. I just always went with girls ‘cause that’s what was expected, y’know? So that was a lot to process. It’s still a lot to process, honestly. But I’m getting there? Or I think I am. I at least had something to tell Will, so. There’s that.” He chuckles. “Y’know you’re the third person I told? Will was second. Robin was first, though she kinda told me, instead of the other way around. Sometimes I dunno what I’d do without her. Most times, actually, I dunno what I’d do without her.”

He thinks about Eddie’s grin, the tilt of his jaw. “Welcome to the club.” He’d probably bow. It feels like something he’d bow about. “We have nothing for you because America is a capitalist pigsty and we are all naught but its pawns.”

Steve leaves.

The weeks pass. He returns faithfully, like clockwork.

“It’s been a year,” he whispers one day. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to make it. You were supposed to run, goddammit, why didn’t you run?” He bends in half as the tears come, burying his face in his knees. “Damn you,” he hisses. “This is all your fault, y’know that? I don’t even know how, but I’m in love with a dead man. Do you hear me, Eddie Munson? A dead man! I shouldn’t be in love with you!” He sobs for a few minutes, then forces himself upright. “And the worst part is I’m not even mad at you. Not really. I just- God, why can’t you be here? Why didn’t you run?”

Footsteps behind him. He stiffens, but doesn’t move until he hears the voice, vaguely amused. “Excuse you,” he says, and Steve whips around to find Eddie Munson staring back at him. “I did run. Or I tried. Those fuckers are fast, man.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, drying his tears. “Great. Now I’m hallucinating.”

Hallucination-Eddie kneels beside him, wipes tears from Steve’s cheeks. “Could a hallucination touch you?” He whispers.

Steve stares for a minute before the dam breaks and he’s falling into Eddie, sobbing. “I know,” Eddie murmurs. “I know. I’m so sorry. If it’s any consolation, I definitely did die. I just… didn’t stay dead.” He runs a hand over Steve’s back. “And if it’s any consolation, I was able to hear every one-sided conversation. I appreciate the updates on the kids. And, uh.” He swallows. “I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, too.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

#hope this is angst enough for you #honestly?#I hope you cry #that means I did my job right #stranger things #eventual steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #briefly #writing prompts #prompt 16 #prompt 17 #prompt 18 #this was a lot of fun!!!#thank you friend ❤️#starambles

60 notes · View notes

thedarknesssings · 7 months

Text

Prompt 16: What Goes Around

Prompt 16: Jerk - FFXIV Write 2023 Characters: Isolvar Ravendarke and Helios (Loredan Belenos); mentions of Vaelanys @thornsofsunlight Content Warning: Mention of murder and villainy

“Lord Ravendarke.” The greeting came with an amiable enough tone.

The well-dressed Ishgardian in question turned on a heel to peer at the man making his way toward him. A viera with honey blond hair and bright golden eyes approached him. Both men took stock of the other, a once over that set Lord Isolvar Ravendarke at ease and the viera to smiling a touch wider.

“Have we met?” Isolvar inquired, his expression one of cool calm. He shifted his posture just enough to move slightly in front of the man he was standing with, obscuring the stranger's view. The desire to protect his Vaelanys was always overwhelmingly strong.

“Not yet, but I must admit I’ve been dying to meet you. I’ve heard so much about your work.” The viera stuck his hand out. “I’m Loredan Belenos of Thavnair.”

“My work?” Isolvar narrowed his eyes but shook the hand offered to him. He glanced around to give Vaelanys a quick smile. “Excuse me a moment, my dear.”

With Vaelanys’ nod, Isolvar gestured for Loredan to accompany him. The pair strode down the length of the gallery and out onto the terrace. A vast garden once spread out from there but now only boasted snow and ice sculptures for couples to get lost among. They were certainly no couple, but privacy was wanted. His work wasn’t for the feint of heart usually.

Loredan stayed quiet until they reached their crook of the terrace, far enough away from prying ears for both of them to be satisfied. “Oh yes, your work. For example, I hear parties are your specialty here in Ishgard.”

Isolvar huffed a breath out of his nose and shrugged. “I do enjoy a good party.” He turned to place his gloved hands on the cold terrace railing.

“I know.” The viera stepped up next to him and pulled a glove off. He tucked the garment into a pocket and then laid his hand on top of Isolvar’s. “So bloody. Did you really slit a throat at a supper?”

“I may have.” Isolvar peered over at the viera. The man radiated golden light and warmth. So very at odds with the line of questioning. “Lessons are important to teach.”

“Mm, mhmm, they are. I agree.” Loredan tipped his head up, smiling golden eyes peering at Isolvar. “You see, your hubris has led me into a problem. That time at your ball where you allowed a vast majority of Ishgardians to inhale your ink via refining it into a toxic fume was brilliant. I’ll hand that to you, but now I have been charged with undoing what you did, Thorn.”

Isolvar’s spine stiffened, his eyes widening at the information pouring out of the viera. “How in the frozen hells could you know that?”

Loredan dropped his gaze to where his hand still rested on top of Isolvar’s. Tiny lines of black crept across his tanned skin, twisting and growing like vines. Isolvar sucked in a sharp breath and back-peddled with haste away from the other man. He yanked his glove off, checking his marble white skin for telltale marks. The glower he leveled on Loredan was vicious.

“You’re her current Thorn.” He bit the words out as the accusation they were.

“Oh, no no,” Loredan spun on a heel and encroached on Isolvar with a languid pace. “I’m much worse, and I have your dear mother’s bones to return to you if you will just tell me how you did it.”

#ffxiv write 2023 #prompt 16 #ran out of time to write today

14 notes · View notes

perfectpaperbluebirds · 7 months

Text

Sicktember #16

Prompt: Consulting the Internet/Web MD

Fandom/OCs: Bridget Jones’s Diary (Mark and Bridget)

Words: 940

Sicknario inspo: Sneezing and swearing from this post and “good lord” from this post

Author’s comments/background: Not much to say about this one I think. What you see is what you get. Mark and Bridget will always be loves of mine, and it’s always a treat to write them.

CW: Mentions of c*ncer, jokingly. Nothing real.

~~~***~~~

"Okay, so it says here that hard lumps in the neck, or swollen lymph nodes, are a side effect of many respiratory illnesses and are especially common in strep throat." Bridget looked away from the computer screen to study Mark. "Do you think you have strep throat? You said your throat was sore."

Mark Darcy, a sick, miserable lump under the blankets, peered at her with a frown. "It is sore, but only from the postnasal drip I think. And strep throat doesn't come with so much sneezing, that much I know. Keep looking, please."

As if in answer to himself, he took a deep inhale before bursting into a thick sneezing fit, his dozenth of the day:

"Hiihhg'KNXXT! IHHXXTT-CHOO! HIHHXXCHOO! Hahht-CHUUHF!!..."

"Gesundheit. Well the only other cause listed here is lymphoma or metastatic cancer, dear, and I'm not about to start consulting the internet about THEM. I really think it's just because you're ill. I think they're pretty normal."

"You see they're not normal for me, though. I've never had them before– GEHHT-CHOO!!... Good Lord…" he gasped, breathy and irritated

He once again swiped at the mess on his face from the increasingly wet sneezes, though it rather seemed to be a losing battle. Bridget blessed him again and made a sympathetic sound. Rising from the computer chair, she went to perch on the edge of the bed, stroking Mark's tangled curls away from his forehead.

"You'd best keep your distance, darling," he mumbled thickly, gently pushing her hand away. "You're in the hazard zone, and I seem to have no control over my nose presently."

"Well if you haven't noticed, it's my bedspread you're presently sneezing into, so it seems I don't have much choice about being exposed to whatever you've managed to catch. At this point I'll take my chances." Her gentle fingers returned to his forehead and cheeks, then slowly made their way down his neck to the sore lumps that he was so concerned about, right under his jaw. They were soft and moved easily, both signs that, according to the internet, pointed to them being caused by his illness.

She had only just touched the lumps when Mark twitched, gasped, and sneezed directly onto her:

"KehpttEHTCHHOO! EHHGXXTCHOO!!... Oh God I'm so sorry. It's all over you, isn't it?"

Bridget calmly wiped off her arms, which were indeed covered in spray, squirting a liberal amount of antibacterial hand rub from the bottle she had placed nearby and rubbing it all over her exposed skin. As she worked, she spoke:

"Don't fuss, dear, it's alright. As you said, I was in the hazard zone. There, no harm done."

Mark collapsed back against the pillows with a sound somewhere between 'ugh' and 'ick'. "I feel bloody disgusting," he mumbled.

"You sound it, too," Bridget agreed. "Poor thing. I wish there was something I could do for you."

"Well there isn't. I simply have to wallow in misery until this passes. And hope I'm not dying of cancer in the process."

Bridget now seated herself on the bed, scooting up against him and placing his head in her lap. "None of that, now. You don't need to be crabby or frightened. You're going to be just fine. I'll make sure of it."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" Mark asked tiredly.

"Oh coddling you and fussing over you. Manipulating you into submission with sweetness. The classic girlfriend maneuvers."

At last Mark cracked a smile. "I'm eager to see such maneuvers. I'm not sure as I've ever seen them before."

"Well of course you wouldn't remember even if you had. These things are very subtle, you know. The man isn't meant to know he's being manipulated, silly."

She wasn't sure he heard much of what she said, as he suddenly pulled away from her, shifting off her lap to sneeze repeatedly into his arm:

"Gihhh-HESHH'eeeww! Hihh'IHHSH'eeew!! Hhxx'AHKKT-choo! Hggh'nxxgt- CHOOOF!! –Guh! That was… f*cking heh– hehh! HehYEISHHoo! ESSHHuue!!"

If the first volley of sneezes had frustrated him, and they must have to draw a rare curse word out of him, then having to interrupt said cursing with another sneeze maddened him.

"You should leave, Bridget," Mark growled as he tended to his nose. "I don't want you or anyone else around until this has cleared up. I'm a danger to everyone in my current state."

"But if I leave, who will be here to look things up on the internet and convince you you're not dying of cancer?"

Another weak smile from Mark. "Well… no one, I suppose."

"There you are, see? Then it's settled. I simply must stay." She shifted close to him again, brushing the messy hair away from his forehead once more.

Mark sighed at her touch and sank deeper into the pillows, closing his eyes. She sensed him trying to relax, though any change was imperceptible. Even still, his next words surprised her:

"You're horribly stubborn, you know… but I'm glad you're here. Things are much more bearable when you're with me."

Bridget flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. For saying so. I'm always glad to be with you, even and perhaps especially when you're all needy and pathetic. Though I don't think the same can be said for the bedspread."

Mark sheepishly dropped the corner of the blanket he'd been using to scrub at his nose.

Bridget laughed. "Never mind, don't worry about it. It's alright." She grasped his hand, kissing the back of it. "And we'll have you well in no time, never fear."

Mark sighed and closed his eyes again. "Thank you, darling. I very much hope you're right."

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #bri/dget jon/es diary #prompt 16

10 notes · View notes

cadrenebula · 7 months

Text

Prompt #16: Jerk

(Set somewhere after the Calamity. Roughly a yearish.)

Neither of them was in the best of shape as they made their way through the Brume. Leaning on each other for support as they headed for one of the healers Alex had heard of. One that offered healing without many questions. Cheaply at that since he didn't have much funds of his own and doubted that Lance did either despite his family's status. Brume rats rarely could afford healers, especially ones working for an assassin. Lance might be from an upper class family but he was the black sheep of the family and his grandfather kept a tight leash on the family's funds. Which left them little option than to try a Brume healer.

Though it was more so Lance guiding them through from Alex's directions. Alex was a bit too intoxicated to reliably lead them. Not to mention the black eye he was likely to have from the brawl they'd gotten into thanks to his mouth. It was so easy to be a jerk and pick a fight with people at the Forgotten Knight. Especially so after he'd had a couple drinks.

Lance reached out to knock on the healer's door while keeping a steady grip on Alex's arm around his shoulders. Thankfully Alex was able to mostly walk so he didn't have to be carried. But both of them definitely needed some tending after the brawl. Lance's healed wounds from the Vigil were beginning to ache with helping Alex here.

"You, Ysere?" Alex asked with a smug grin despite the beating he'd taken earlier. It was hard to drop the attitude problem that was second nature to him after this many years. "We need a healer."

"Please." Lance added with a sigh and roll of his eyes at his friend.

They let the kind seeming healer woman lead them inside. Alex thought he spied a kid peeking out from a doorway at them. Probably not more than roughly somewhere around ten summers by his guess from what he could see of the girl. Cute little brat anyways, Alex thought.

"Name's Lexy and this is Lanny. Got into a bit of a scuffle at the tavern." Alex let Lance help him sit down before sitting down as well. Ugh. His stomach was starting to feel a bit foul now. Had to have been that last blow.

Alex peered at the kid as she'd approached him. Not shy kid clearly as she began to pepper him with questions. His head was already pounding and his stomach was only beginning to feel worse for it. Somewhere in the middle of her question barrage, he lost the contents of his stomach. All over her nice tunic. Poor kid.

"Shit..." Now he felt more like a jerk. At least his stomach felt mildly better for it.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 16 #Prompt Jerk #About Alexois #About Lancefer #Alex's History #Lance's History #The Knight and The Jackal #Lance and Lilli #Alex and Lilli

9 notes · View notes

promptsbytaurie · 6 months

Text

prompt #16

"But it was on Halloween, your Honor."

#prompt 16 #writing prompt #dialogue prompt

9 notes · View notes

unbloomingmoonflower · 7 months

Text

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt 16: Jerk

Putting one of my older stories here, because it applies for the noun definition of jerk.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The battle against Ranj’it had been difficult; but Thancred ultimately succeeded, though no worse for wear.

He’d been waiting for Shuri to return with Ryne, seeing the younger girl’s hair having changed. It appeared she made her choice.

And he had to make one too. One to make right--to make amends--with the Au Ra who was so furious with him, who now approached him to check the extent of his injuries.

“I’m fine, Shuri,” Thancred muttered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You received far too many blows to the head to be considered fine, idiot.” Shuri huffed and, with a flick of her wrist, she changed into her mage glamour. Urianger approached, clearly ready to heal Thancred instead, but Shuri gave the astrologian a faint smile and a nod of her head and he backed down.

If that wasn’t a sign for Thancred to make amends now, then it would never come again.

“A word in private, Shuri?” he asked, as the Xaela began to tend to Thancred’s wounds. Mismatched irises lifted to his face, brow quirking upward. “About what?” she countered.

“I think you may know.”

Shuri continued to look at him silently before nodding with an exhaled breath. “All right, Thancred,” she allowed, sheathing her staff. “A word in private, then.”

Getting to his feet with a grunt, Thancred walked away from the group, Shuri following. Alphinaud and Alisaie made a motion to follow, concern clear in their eyes; they knew the history between the two. Shuri glanced back at the twin, waving a hand to them and giving them a soft smile. “It’s fine, you two,” she assured. “Just a word with Thancred.”

She had always been so kind like that. Thancred never could have seen Shuri any differently if he tried. She was always smiling, always gentle and kind. She would put everyone else first before her own wellbeing. It was one of the things Thancred loved about her.

His expression hardened at the thought that flitted through his mind. Thancred realized only too late of Shuri’s adoration for him--and it was when he lost her to another. Estinien treated Shuri far better than he ever could, not shying away from the Xaela’s love for him.

Thancred had said cruel things to Shuri in regards to her relationship with the retired Azure Dragoon.

Once there was distance between them and the others, Thancred turned to the Xaela. She was still as delicate as when he first met her in Ul’dah, yet there were subtle changes from the numerous battles she had fought. There was a certain weariness about her that he knew that one day, she would hang up her mantle.

“What did you want to talk about Thancred?” asked Shuri, crossing her arms over her chest, her head canted to the side as she scanned him with those winter eyes. She was pale as the moon and her eyes were the embodiment of winter itself. He could count how many times he’d lost himself in her eyes, even when saying such despicable things.

“I’m sorry.” The words left him, lacking the usual grace in which he had once dazzled her. He, too, was hardened by battles and loss. “It was not right, for me to lash out at you. To insult you and your relationship with Estinien. I...I had no right to feel envious and to hurt you like that.”

As he spoke, Shuri listened, her expression slowly softening as her arms lowered from her chest just slightly. “You think I was hurt by that? Angry surely, but not hurt.”

Thancred’s own eyes widened at her words and Shuri took his silence to continue. “You’ve hurt me once, and only once. When I confessed my feelings for you, you distanced yourself from me. You never gave me an answer until someone else healed my broken heart. You say you have no right to be jealous--and you would be correct. We were never anything more than friends and comrades. You made that very clear.”

So that was how the Xaela saw it. After Minfilia gave herself to be the Word of the Mother, when Shuri confessed her feelings in a flurry of grief, Thancred simply kissed her on her forehead and walked away. He did put distance between them, a gap so vast that Shuri gave up and nursed her broken heart. Thancred was in the lifestream in the duration that Shuri and Estinien became close.

And Shuri gazed at Estinien in the same way she once gazed at him.

“However...you are one of my closest comrades. And as hardheaded as you are...” There was a slight laughter in her voice now, “...well, I am still here. As are you, yes?”

Her words brought a faint smile to Thancred’s lips. Yes, she was right; she had gain far more perception than when he first met her. “Yes. As friends,” he agreed, holding out his hand.

And she took it to seal the past behind them.

#moonie writes #ffxivwrite2023 #prompt 16 #delayed post

7 notes · View notes

oswsfandomchallenge · 6 months

Text

OSWS finale - can you believe it?! It's time (or almost time) for our favourite sports to start into a new season and it's time for OSWS to go back into hiatus until next year. Out we go with a bang and our last prompt!

prompt #16:

❄️ New beginnings ❄️

Big thanks to everyone who participated. It's been an absolute blast 💜

#osws fandom challenge #winter sports #prompt 16 #ski jumping #cross country skiing #ski cross #freestyle skiing #alpine skiing #biathlon #nordic combination #curling #snowboarding #hockey #ice skating #fanfiction #fanart #sports rpf

4 notes · View notes

midcinmancave · 5 months

Text

Story Prompt: "Do you know a way out of here?" Title: Shades (Part 1)

Summary: A little chat about ghosts. Complete Story Source

Fictober Submission #08 Fandom: Midnight Cinderella Featuring: Giles Christophe Warnings: None Rating/Genre: General Audience, Slice of Life Writer: Giles Christophe

#Fictober23 #Midnight Cinderella #fanfiction #16 #Giles Christophe #MidCin #Kingdom of Wysteria #KOW Writer Project #イケメン王宮 #Prompt 16

3 notes · View notes

kay-elle-cee · 2 years

Text

Jilytober prompt 16: "I can never hate you."

Thank you for the prompts, @jilytoberfest!

James barely registers the cool wood of the door as he pushes it open, retreating from the now-too-crowded living room. He hears her footsteps behind him and his heart his racing, looking for an outlet for this frustration that isn't aimed at her.

"James. James! Hey, please wait."

He busies himself with getting a glass of water, avoiding looking at her, trying to figure out what to say in a situation like this.

"Can we talk about this?" Her voice is small, so much smaller than it normally is, and he feels the magnetism draw his eyes to where she stands—auburn hair falling around her shoulders, eyes wide, shocked.

Humor. Humor has to be his defense. If he doesn't have humor he will break.

"Of course." He shrugs, plastering on a grin he knows looks fake, mustering up any ounce of mirth he can find. "It's not everyday you realize your girlfriend hates you." He waits for the joke to land, but Lily's staring at him, seeing through the facade.

"I can never hate you," she breathes, agony carried along the whisper as she steps towards him. "James, I love you."

He makes a noncommittal sound.

"I was just...surprised, is all."

James risks another glance at her and can't control the incredulity and frustration in his voice. "We've talked about it before, Lil. I don't know how me asking you to marry me comes as a surprise."

"In the abstract, James! Not now! Not when we're fighting in a war!" Her voice raises and she makes an effort to lower it, not wanting it to carry to where their friends are gathered in the living room. "Not as an impulse decision."

His laugh is bitter to even his own ears as he reaches into his pocket and brandishes a small velvet box. The sight of it sends Lily stock-still, her eyes flickering from the black box to James and back again.

"It's not an impulse decision." James' eyes stare at the box in his hand as he speaks, the disappointment of tonight washing over him. "Lily, I've thought about this every day since we joined The Order."

He hears her suck a breath in. He feels her move closer to him, feels her gently place a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at her. Sees the unshed tears in her eyes that mirror his own.

"James," she murmurs, placing a kiss to his lips. Her voice is filled with so much that James wants to explode. So much fear, so much want, so much fear of what she wants. She wraps her arms around him and buries her head in the crook of his neck, sighing.

"I'm so afraid to lose you and not make the most of the time we have," he whispers to her, his voice raspy with emotion.

"I am, too," she replies, the lips of her answer dancing against the skin of his neck.

He pockets the box with the ring once again and wraps her tightly in his arms, their heartbeats finding rhythm in each other. This was not how James expected this night to go—far from it. But it wasn't a 'no', and he'll hold on to that fact as tightly as he's holding onto her now, knowing that the two of them are meant to weather this storm together. Knowing that she loves him, and he loves her. Knowing he'll ask again someday.

Other Jilytober drabbles here.

#kelsey writes #jily #jilytober #jilytober2022 #31 prompts #ficlets #drabbles #prompt 16

34 notes · View notes

cookierunevents · 2 years

Text

95 notes · View notes

sterek-and-stuff-events · 10 months

Text

Mead Moons prompt: Revelry

Are fraternity rivals Stiles and Derek one-upping each other with every party they throw, vying for the season’s Most Legendary Rager and falling for each other in the process? Or are they reluctant guests at a mandatory Alpha/Omega jamboree where they bond over drinks and music and how shitty they think the custom is?

Does Fox Stiles persuade the typically reserved Derek to attend a wild shifter event and ends up getting more than he bargained for when the wolf finally cuts loose? Or does Bacchus possess Coach Finstock and the only way to get him to leave is for the all too broody and angst-ridden guys to thoroughly enjoy themselves for once?

Do Stiles and Derek finally get together during an All Pack weekend getaway with no monsters or Hunters or asshole magic trees messing things up and that’s the whole vibe, everyone lives and has a great time? Or do Erica and Lydia have something more intentional in mind when planning a summer celebration sure to get the Alpha to make a move on their resident Spark?

Get in on the fun and create something!

Accepting new and unpublished fic, art, and playlists until July 31st. See here for more info.

#sterek #sterek events #teen wolf events #sterek & stuff events #mead moons #mead moons revelry #prompt 16 #random daily prompt

4 notes · View notes

lire-casander · 1 year

Text

#16 trying to fulfill their wishes

trying to fulfill their wishess original prompt list here

Carlos has learned to remain chill due to his job. It wasn't a surprise when he announced he wanted to become a policeman — maybe to his father it was, given that speech about being too soft — but what had concerned his mother the most had been his inability to control his emotions. He'd never been a calm kid; his Tía Lucy still reminds him of that time he'd broken her favorite vase while attempting to dance the bachata when he was five. Truth is, he knew he needed to prove to someone — his instructors, his father, himself — that he could remain serene and calm.

He's actually mastered it. At least, most of the time.

It isn't the first time this week that he's come back home to find TK crawling on the floor, calling for Lou The Second to come back to his terrarium. Carlos has developed a seventh sense for patience — his sixth being what TK fondly calls his Carlos sense, the one he puts to work whenever there's a case to solve, the one that's saved Katie and Iris — but his patience is running thinner by the second as TK gets on his knees and huffs.

Carlos doesn't like reptiles. He likes animals; dogs, horses, cats if pressed. But reptiles are too much for him. He surprised himself when he stopped by the shop and brought Lou The Second home, but he chalked it up to him wanting to fulfill TK’s desire to expand the family. If Carlos couldn't give his fiancé a kid for now — maybe never — he thought he could at least compromise with a pet. So he chose the obvious one, seeing how excited TK had been when he'd brought Lou The Flesh Eater home from a scene.

"Ty?" he calls out softly when TK gets on his feet. "Has Lou The Second escaped again?"

"We were playing," TK explains, dusting off his jeans and turning to greet Carlos with a kiss on the cheek. "I guess he's too good at hide and seek."

"Especially the hiding part of it," Carlos deadpans.

He drops his bag on the floor, and the sound makes Lou The Second run from his hiding spot under the foyer’s drawer and right onto TK’s leg, causing Carlos to yelp.

"Hey, there you were," TK says lovingly as he grabs Lou The Second and places him on his chest. "Good game, pal. You're good at this too, Carlos."

Carlos nods, rubbing his chest to try to unknot the irrational fear that reptiles always cause in him. "Do you think you'll ever be able to let him stay in his terrarium?"

"But it's fun to play with him! You should try it sometime."

Carlos shakes his head. "I'm going to shower and then I'll start cooking. Please keep Lou The Second close to you. I don't want him to accidentally end up with the lettuces again."

"That he can do, stay away from our food, can't you, baby?" TK says, cooing when Lou The Second looks up at him.

Carlos shakes his head again, walking past his fiancé toward the bathroom. He thinks that maybe he's way in over his head about this, but when he remembers TK’s face lighting up when he saw Lou The Second in the box, Carlos realizes that his own dismay about reptiles can be easily overcome by his love for TK.

And maybe one day he'll be able to fulfill TK’s utmost dream — becoming fathers together.

#lire's 40 to the 40s #prompt 16 #prompt 16: trying to fulfill their wishes #tarlos #tk strand/carlos reyes #carlos reyes/tk strand #lou the second #911ls #911 ls #911 lone star

5 notes · View notes

chocoblep · 7 months

Text

#16: The Art of Extraction

“Can you pass me that screwdriver?” Lydi asked, her hand sticking out from beneath the lift she and her partner were repairing. When no screwdriver found her waiting hand, she flailed it around a bit, as if maybe her partner were holding it out absently and had missed. “Ari?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” the Elezen man murmured, and the screwdriver found its way to her hand. She closed her fingers around its handle and pulled it under the lift with her.

“Everything all right?” she asked as she removed the lower panel to take a look at the hydraulics.

“I–yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, but he sounded down.

Lydi ticked an ear, popping her head out from under the metal platform. “You’re not fine,” she observed. “Arivel?”

“It’s…” The brunette sighed. “It’s Teran.”

“Again?” She sighed, putting down the screwdriver and the handful of screws on the tray nearby. “What did he do now?”

“He… I found him with someone else. They weren’t… they weren’t in bed or anything, but they might as well have been.” Arivel plucked at something invisible on the sleeve of his uniform, his dark eyes fixed on it like it was a lifeline that he was clinging to.

“Well, did you break up with him?” Lydi asked, coming to sit down next to him. She brought a hand up to rest it between his shoulders, rubbing in a comforting circle.

“I… no.”

“Why not?” she asked, and the man’s face turned away.

“What if…” he began, reaching up to shove his glasses back up his nose. “What if he’s the best I could do? What if he’s the only person who’d be interested in me? I don’t… I know it’s disrespectful, but I’d almost rather be cheated on than be alone.”

Lydjana sighed, scrubbing the back of her gloved hand over one cheek to itch it. “Look, Arivel. You’re cute. Like, really cute. Are you only into guys? Do you like girls too? Because I know some people who would be totally into you. You don’t have to put up with his constant shittiness. You’re unhappy more than you’re happy. Do you really want to live like that?”

“You don’t mean that,” he said, waving a hand at her to go back to work.

“Your confidence is down in your feet because you’re letting him put it there,” she replied, standing. She turned, then, and poked him right in the chest, which made him look up at her in surprise. “You need to kick him to the curb. I can point out all the people around here who have been making eyes at you, and introduce you to some friends of mine that I know are good people. Even if you aren’t attracted to them, they’d be good people to befriend.”

“I–” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “You’re right. He doesn’t… deserve my loyalty or my love. I’m just…”

“That’s right,” she said, and moved back over to duck under the lift again. She looked into its exposed guts, and then jammed her hand in there and snagged her fingers on the culprit for this lift’s jam. She pried it free, and then tossed it at Arivel, who fumbled as he caught it. He snorted, a smile finally breaking over his features, and Lydi grinned in response as she ducked out to test the mechanism. Sure enough, the lift began rising, and then descending, as she controlled it.

“I guess someone really didn’t want the boss calling them,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hope they get a new one,” she commented, and then looked at him purposefully.

“Lydi,” he sighed, exasperated. “You are like a dog with a bone.”

“Don’t fuck with my friends,” she said… and then grinned. “Or do, if I set you up with one.”

“Lydi!”

Laughter answered him as Lydi reattached the panel. “You wanna go give that comm to Kellen? It’s his.”

Arivel stilled, his eyes rounding to nearly match the shape of his adorable glasses, and he stared at her. “How do you know?”

“Because I saw him drop it two bells ago when we were on the lift. At the very least, he’s going to need to turn it in.” She grinned at him when he went white as a sheet, and tossed her head toward the commune, where the new subject of their discussion sat at a table with another engineer, eating a sandwich.

“Why can’t you–”

“I just did this whole-ass job by myself,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and staring him down. Grass-green eyes held sullen browns, until finally the Elezen relented and stood.

“Fine,” he said, and walked off toward the commune.

Lydi watched Arivel’s progress as she stowed the tools she’d used to get Kellen’s comm out of the lift’s innards. As he stepped up to the table, he dropped the mangled comm on its surface next to Kellen, which startled him out of his conversation. The moment the seated Highlander looked up at Arivel, his eyes rounded with surprise. Words were exchanged, and Arivel looked to Lydi with a look on his face that totally said go ahead without me, and then sat down next to the bigger man and started talking in earnest.

It hadn’t been an accident when she’d bumped into Kellen this morning on the lift. It hadn’t been an accident when she’d covertly nudged the comm into the hole in the grate on the lift, either. She’d known Arivel hadn’t been happy for a while with his boyfriend, and maybe–just maybe–forcing him to talk to one of the cute guys that had been eyeing him for the last moon would nudge him toward doing something about it.

She picked up the tool case, strolled off toward the lockers, and caught Kellen’s eye over Arivel’s shoulder, tossing him a wink and a grin that had his lips twitching into a smile of gratitude before he returned his full attention to the Elezen at his side and broke off half of his sandwich and held it out in offering.

Her work here was done.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #Lydjana Silvaret #Prompt 16 #Jerk

5 notes · View notes

perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years

Text

Care Package

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #16

Fandom/OCs: the Black Tapes Podcast

Title: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Words: 2394

Inspiration: This snippet from @stealthy-sneezing about getting a cold for Christmas. As always, I blame all Dr. Strand fics on @sickromancer for getting me into this fandom in the first place!

Author’s comments: The prompt I struggled with the most ended up becoming one of my favorite fics. Alex and Richard have such a unique dynamic which I find so fun to write, and I love subverting expectations if you haven’t noticed, so the Christmas care package suited me exactly. Plus, I really like the characterization that I somehow captured here. This is one of the ones I most want to write a follow-up to! We may yet see Alex taking care of a sick Richard in fics ahead.

Alex was never the first one to arrive at Dr. Strand's office, especially first thing in the morning. She wasn't great with Mondays to begin with, and the Monday after a holiday weekend was even worse. She came in at least thirty minutes later than usual, but it seemed most of the Strand Institute employees were of the same mind as her, for she saw almost no one else. The most surprising absence was Richard himself, however. She often teased him that he must sleep at his office for how often he left after her and arrived before her, so she was quite taken aback to find his office dark and cold and empty so late in the morning.

She immediately turned up the heat, as he would have done, and started a pot of coffee. When Richard still hadn't arrived, she sat down in her usual seat and began to work on a few things, unsure what else to do. She glanced over her shoulder every few minutes, expecting to see him come flying in with a muttered excuse about traffic, but it wasn't until after another thirty minutes had passed that he made his appearance. She heard his shoes squeaking on the linoleum long before she saw him, so she turned in expectation, ready to greet him and give him a hard time about punctuality.

He did come flying in as expected, but rather than an irritated excuse, the first sound he made was an irritated sneeze.

"Hihh-! KIIHHHPTTtchhooo!" Wet, spraying, and violent, it was a sneeze that was impossible to ignore, and Alex’s eyes widened in spite of herself. She thought he might sneeze more from the way his nose continued to wrinkle, but he suppressed the urge, likely by sheer force of will, and huffed his way to his desk with only a brusque nod in her general direction.

Alex blinked several times. "Bless you. That was… quite the entrance."

"What have I told you about that phrase?" he asked peevishly, setting down his briefcase with a forceful sniffle.

She didn’t have to ask what phrase he meant. "That the societal expectation to bless someone when they sneeze is promoting an outdated concept rife with medical, social, and religious fallacy that would be better left in the medieval era," she rattled off, having heard that particular rant more times than she could count. "But that was an especially violent sneeze, and I felt it needed some sort of acknowledgement."

That got him to smile a tiny bit, the smirk coming and going so fast that she would have missed it had she blinked. She knew that was the only concession she would get, but she counted it as a win. He settled in at his desk, and it seemed he didn't intend to make any other reply, so she tried again.

"How was your holiday?" she asked.

"Fine," he grunted. There was a pause, and he seemed to realize he had fallen short of an acceptably polite response. "Yours?"

"It was very nice, thank you." With anyone else, she would've gone on talking about the loved ones, the dinner, the presents, but not with him. She knew idle conversation annoyed him. Also, she had a hunch he'd likely had a lonely holiday, and she wasn’t sure he would want to hear about her very traditional, people-filled holiday celebrations. Still, she couldn’t resist one more question. "Did you get anything for Christmas?"

"Ihhh'TIHSSHH! EHSSHHOO!" The sneezes had clearly snuck up on him, and he wiped his nose in bad humor. "Nothing except a cold. The most wonderful time of the year and all." He blew his nose with annoyed finality, clearly not wanting her to pursue the subject of either the cold or the lack of Christmas presents further. However, pursuing sensitive topics was in Alex's nature as a journalist.

"No presents? I know Melissa got you a tie and matching socks!"

The tiny ghost of a smile again. "I suppose you're right. And the box of chocolates Jamie gave to everyone. But nothing else."

"Except a cold."

"Exactly," he sighed, and she thought she detected a hint of self-pity. "It probably happened when I picked up some groceries on Christmas Eve."

The inherent sadness behind this statement struck her immediately, but he seemed unaware of it. He had already returned to his work, swiping at his nose with a tissue and taking a long pull of tea from his thermos as he perused a handful of documents. Alex shook her head and returned to her laptop, but her attention never strayed far from her office mate.

The cold he'd caught from some hapless fellow Christmas Eve shopper was clearly a nasty one. His hand couldn't stray far from the box of tissues at his elbow. If he wasn't sniffing he was coughing, and if he wasn't coughing he was sneezing, which led back to either sniffling or coughing, with plenty of nose blowing thrown in for good measure.

Part of her wondered if he had a fever due to how sick he seemed, but she hoped he would have had the good sense to stay home if he did. Also, she'd seen him when he was running a fever once before, and he had had a distinct appearance of dizziness and lethargy at that time that wasn't present today. She considered asking him to check to be sure, but refrained, mainly due to the fact that she wasn't sure they could even find a thermometer here.

He pointedly didn't mention the state of his health or make any indication of discomfort aside from the necessary, and she sensed his silent plea for her to ignore it as well. She respected his (unspoken) wishes, at least at first, and went about the morning as normally as possible. However, she continued to bless him whenever he let out a particularly heavy sneeze, more to tease him than anything. He accepted this with long-suffering resignation.

His stoic suffering made her want to "poor thing" him all the more, especially as his nose got more raw and red with every passing hour, and his voice was rougher every time he spoke. An idea began to form in her mind, and she worked to keep from smiling so he wouldn't suspect anything.

Lunchtime rolled around, and she saw he was making no move to leave, which wouldn't do at all. She fidgeted a few times and cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Did you bring anything for lunch?" she asked.

"I have a protein bar," he said distractedly. She couldn't help but notice how tired he was looking now, and how lethargically he was moving.

"Ah. Well if you don't mind my saying so, your body might thank you if you had something a little more… substantial. And warm. There's that great soup and sandwich place down the street."

"I don't need anything. I'm finally making progress here and I don't want to pause," he croaked with a thick sniffle, rubbing an eye.

"Yikes, your voice is definitely going, isn't it? Good thing we're not recording the podcast today. The listeners wouldn't understand a word you're saying." She crossed her fingers under the desk, hoping he wouldn't call her bluff.

It seemed to work, though. He glanced up, a small frown creasing his forehead. "Is it really that bad?"

"I mean… It's definitely not great. You sound very contagious."

His frown deepened, and his hand went unconsciously to his (almost certainly sore) throat.

Alex, knowing how sensitive he was about his voice, saw her opening and went in for the close. "Oh, and you're shivering too! You know what, I'm going to get you some soup, regardless of what you say. You need something more than a protein bar."

"No, no, don’t bother. I'll go," he grunted, never one to let anyone do anything for him. He slowly stood and shrugged into his coat, shaking his head as if to clear some dizziness even as he cleared his throat. "Did you want anything?"

"Oh yes! Could you please get me one of their pasta bowls?" She quickly rattled off her order and handed over some cash, then shooed him out the door. Once he was gone, she pulled on her own coat and ran out the door. She had a supply run to make, and she needed to make it back before he did.

~~~

When Dr. Strand returned with their lunch, Alex was sitting where he'd left her, looking busy. However, there was a very conspicuous red-and-green-wrapped package on his desk. He made a face when he saw it, looking accusingly at Alex.

"What's this?" he sniffled, his nose wet with moisture from the chilly outside air.

"A Christmas present, I assume," she said innocently.

"From whom?"

"Is there a name on the tag or a card?"

He looked. "No."

"Then I can't tell you. Guess you'll just have to open it."

Richard rolled his eyes. "I don't need Christmas presents. I don't celebrate Christmas."

"Looks like you got one anyway. Just open it."

With a sigh he set down the takeout containers, slipped off his coat, and began to unwrap the present. He pulled out a new mug, his favorite tea bags, a soft scarf, a new book, two kinds of cold medicine, premium tissues, and a thermometer. There was a smile around his eyes, but he tried to look stern as he turned back to her. "This wasn't necessary."

"I have no idea what you mean. Someone else must've heard you sneezing all day and left that for you." She couldn't keep her lips from twitching up into a smile of her own to betray her, however.

"Someone else who knows the next book I planned to buy and that one of my favorite mugs was broken the other day?" he said wryly, wrinkling his nose and sniffling as if the mention of sneezing made him want to start up again.

She shrugged with another little smile, giving up the ruse. "Well you insisted I not get you anything for Christmas, and I knew you'd complain about getting any kind of care package. So I thought if I gave you a care package for Christmas, the two would cancel out."

He shook his head. "That logic is very flawed. But now that it's happened, I suppose I can't tell you to take it back."

"Nope, you can't. I threw away the receipt so you couldn't even if you wanted to," she said cheerfully. "So please start using some of these things immediately. I wish you would take the rest of the day off so you could use them all, but I imagine you won't. However, my one request is that you please take your temperature now. From the way your eyes look, I think you're starting a fever."

"I think it's more than starting," he said quietly. "But what happens if I am?"

"Then I'll definitely suggest you go home. And keep suggesting it for the rest of the day."

"Then perhaps I should save the trouble for both of us and go home now."

"That might be best," she agreed. She was surprised by a pang of regret as she spoke those words. She hadn't expected him to give in so willingly, and had rather been enjoying the prospect of being able to do some nagging and some "momming". A part of her was sad this didn't seem to be required.

"I might just do that. I'm really not feeling weh– well… Hh'RRSSH!" The stifled sneeze served only to prove his point, and make Alex more concerned. He cut his eyes back to her as he tended to his nose. "Would you still like me to take my temperature before I go?" he rasped.

"Yes please,” she said quickly. “So I know you're okay to drive. And so I know how much I need to worry about you. You’ll say I don't need to worry at all–"

"You don't."

"But I'm going to be concerned regardless, so I'd like to know to what degree."

He didn't reply, but unwrapped the thermometer and placed it under his tongue without further comment. When it beeped, he pulled it out of his mouth and examined the reading expressionlessly.

"101.4," he grunted.

"That's pretty high for just a cold. Is that normal for you?"

"Unfortunately," he said. "I rarely get sick without also getting a fever."

"Then I'm glad you're going home. Hopefully if you rest it'll be over that much sooner. Do you want me to drive you?"

"No. I'm fine. As I said, I'm very used to this. Fevers don't bother me."

"Aside from making you exhausted and dizzy."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Why do you say that?"

"I can see it in your eyes and the way you move."

He gave a small huff of laughter. "Is that so?"

"Never doubt a journalist's perception."

He only shook his head, deigning not to reply once again. However, to her surprise he began to pack up. It seemed he actually intended to leave.

"He really must be feeling poorly," she thought to herself. She packed all of his new items back into the Christmas box as he shrugged back into his coat. She handed him the box and his takeout soup once his gloves were on.

"Thank you for picking up lunch. But I'm glad you'll be able to enjoy yours at home. Take care of yourself. I hope you feel better soon."

"Will do." With his signature brusque nod, he was gone.

He hadn't thanked her for the care package, but she wasn't offended. She hadn't really expected him to. She was almost certain he was going to make use of it, though, and that was enough for her. Anything to encourage him to take care of himself.

After eating her pasta, she too packed up and left, as there wasn't much work for her to do without him. She had already planned the text in her mind that she would send to him soon to make sure he was getting the rest and fluids he needed, and was taking a proper Christmas sick day. The holidays only come once a year, after all. If he had to be sick, he might as well make the most of it.

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 16 #the black tapes podcast #everyone is hotter with a fever #sickfic

25 notes · View notes