#yesterday i had a sore throat and today i had a Very sore throat but then that passed and now im just. stuffy and nose runny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goosita · 4 months

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trying to work when you're sick as young!politician!snow's secretary would be hard, but not for the reason you might think

you've been sniffling since yesterday afternoon, but this morning when you woke up, you felt like you'd been hit by a train. every muscle in your body was sore, your throat hurt, your nose was running and you could tell you had at least a lowgrade fever. you glanced at your alarm clock next to your bed and groaned, seeing that you'd woken up just a little while before it was set to go off anyway.

you thought about calling in sick, but you've never done it before. were you supposed to call....coriolanus? directly? he was your only boss, you worked solely for him. but that thought made you feel even worse than your illness did. you knew that he had a busy day today full of meetings and work calls, and that you needed to be there to help organize his schedule. you couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.

you sucked it up and took the hottest shower you could stand in efforts to clear your sinuses and stop the fever-induced chills wracking your body every few minutes. you knew coriolanus liked for you to look put-together in pretty dresses and heels, but today you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. you dressed in a loose blouse and pair of wide-leg trousers that felt comfortable enough, shoving your feet into flat shoes. good enough.

so now here you are, bundled in your sweater you keep at the office and trying hard to manifest that nobody will notice your red and raw nose or your watery eyes, least of all coriolanus. the wish goes ungranted, prayer unanswered as he strolls in and immediately stops and stares at you.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"oh, um. just a little cold," you answer, voice nasally and much lower in pitch than normal. coriolanus frowns at you and shrugs his coat off, hanging it up and walking straight over to you to press the back of his hand to your forehead.

"you're burning up."

his lips turn down even further, not noticing the way you freeze at his sudden touch. coriolanus has been a lot more...touchy with you lately, but even still, this amount of concern is unexpected. his brows furrow at you, looking at you for a long moment. he carefully brushes your hair out of your face, looking over you and taking note of your outfit and general state. you can tell he notices that you've dressed much more comfortably than you usually would, and that your face is makeup-free and hair left at simply brushed through to undo any tangles.

"up," he tells you, gently lifting you out of your chair by your elbow.

"what?"

"let's get you home," he says gently, rubbing a warm and heavy hand up and down your back. "you're in no shape to be here today. i'll have my driver take you back to your apartment."

you look at him confused, unsure what to say. you're not sure if he's upset that you're sick or if he's more worried for your wellbeing, but it makes you anxious that he's acting so abrupt and unceremonious, almost as if you being sick is putting him on edge.

"coryo...?" you ask quietly. he freezes where he stands, having gone to grab your jacket off the coatrack. you watch as his entire demeanor softens.

"yes, miss y/n?"

you swallow hard, wincing at the pain it causes in your throat. "are...are you upset with me?"

coriolanus' eyebrows draw inward and upward at your question, quickly shaking his head.

"oh, no. no, of course not," he breathes, rushing over to help you slide into your coat. "i'm worried about you is all. i don't want you making yourself sicker by being here today, you're clearly very unwell. it's not your fault you're ill."

he carefully zips up your coat, grabbing his red scarf from the rack as well. before you can protest, he's draping it around your neck and tying it.

"for extra warmth," he explains. "it's freezing out there today."

the scarf is so soft where it's tucked beneath your chin, instantly adding more warmth where you need it. coriolanus gives you a tiny smile, lips closed but small dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

you're led to the car by him, his hand resting between your shoulder blades the entire time. coriolanus opens the car door for you to slide into the back seat, instructing his driver to take you home and make sure you get into your apartment safe and sound. his voice holds so much authority when he speaks to the driver, a deepness and sternness that's never present when he's addressing you.

by the time you reach your apartment and climb the steps up, there are several beautifully packaged boxes waiting for you at your door, as well as a single red, long-stemmed rose. you tilt your head and bring them inside, opening them one by one to find that coriolanus has had soup, bread, and medicine delivered to you. attached to the rose by a red satin ribbon is a note that simply reads:

"get well soon, darling"

#politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x you #coryo x reader #tbosbas #bosbas #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you

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thehusbandoden · 1 month

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MHA Men When You're Sick - Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, and Hawks (separately ofc)

A/n: I've had a pounding head and a sore throat since yesterday lol, so here's a little comfort thing.

General info:

Genre: comfort&fluff \\ wc: 755 \\ female reader \\ posted: 03/27/24

Bakugo Katsuki (313 words)

“You need to take this, brat. It will help you.”

You whine childishly, burying your flushed face in Bakugo’s neck. You’ve had a high fever for days. You were too stubborn to tell Bakugo, not wanting to add anything to his heavy workload. He figured out what was happening the third day in and has kept you on bed rest ever since.

You were currently fully on top of him, curled into his chest, face buried in his neck. The thought of taking medicine filled you with dread, all you wanted was your hubby’s cuddles.

“Baby, you need to take this.” Bakugo let out a long sigh, doing his best to be patient. His attempts were in vain, your whining pushing him to the edge. He gently pushes you off of him, standing up. You let out a whimper from the lack of the comforting contact, looking up at your partner of two years.

You give him a pout, trying to guilt him to get back in bed. He sighs, measuring out the appropriate medicine. “I’ll come back for cuddles once you take this, okay?”

You huff, crossing your arms. You do your very best to stay stubborn, but you grew more and more desperate to get your pillow husband back. You reluctantly open your mouth, allowing the pro hero to spoon feed you your medicine. He watches you strictly, making sure you take every last drop.

Once you do, he relaxes, putting the spoon and bottle down before crawling back into bed. You don’t waste a second, crawling onto him with a giggle. You rub your cheek up against his collarbone and chest, melting into your beloved hubby.

Bakugo let out a dramatic sigh, trying to keep up his tsundere act. He stroked your hair fondly, even as he acted like he didn’t find you cute- which he does, but he won’t ever admit it.

(Bakugo's masterlist)

Shoto (303 words)

(He looks so sweet when he smiles T^T)

The sweet sound of happy squeals and giggles arouses you from your slumber. You groan softly, opening your eyes to see your two-year-old twins crawling on top of you and your husband. You grimace as your head pounds.

You run a hand through the older twin’s hair before shaking Shoto gently. “Baby?” You whisper, he blinks his eyes open, smiling at the sight of you.

“Yes darling?” He whispers, his hand finding yours.

“I really don’t feel well this morning...” Shoto frowns, sitting up to kiss your forehead tenderly. He caresses your hair for a few moments before turning to the twins, his eyes lighting up at the sight of your happy babies.

“Why don’t you rest? I can watch the twins before I go to work? How bad is it, I can call in if I need to.”

You groan, not wanting to burden the man you adored. He worked hard enough already; he didn’t need yet another thing on his shoulders.

Before you can protest, Shoto shoots you a look, silently telling you to just relax for once. Shoto knows better than anyone that you work as hard as he does, though you never take credit for it.

“I-I really need you here today.” You mumble, looking down in embarrassment. You felt foolish for burdening your husband.

“I’ll call in. Let me get these rascals into the living room and I’ll come check up on you again, okay?” He smiles softly at you, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You try to pull away, grimacing.

“You’ll get sick.” You pout.

“And?” He smiles softly, pecking your lips twice before standing up, chasing the twins out of the room, their cackles of joy making your head pound and your heart to swell with pride and joy.

(Sho's masterlist)

Hawks (149 words)

“Babybird!” Hawks screams dramatically, diving full-force into the glass door on your balcony. You frown, quickly opening the door to help him up.

“You said you weren’t feeling good?!” Hawks asked, obviously panicking. He didn’t blink an eye to the pain he had just inflicted on himself.

“I just have a headache baby, it’s not that big of a deal.” You sigh fondly. Hawks takes you in his arms, kissing your forehead and temples.

“Nothing a little cuddling can’t fix...” he grins, pecking your lips and nose before carrying you bridal style towards the couch.

You can’t help but giggle, enjoying the pampering you’re getting. “You’re a goof, my love.” You smile, stroking his jaw.

“I’m your goof.” He smirks, kissing your cheeks and nose.

“That you are, and you always will be.” You grin, leaning up to press a loving kiss to his lips, which he happily reciprocates.

(Hawks masterlist)

~~~~~

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! Your sweet comments literally make my day. <33

Main masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <3

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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updownlately · 5 months

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but i’m scared (of what life without you’s like)

| leah williamson x reader | angst with a dash of hurt/comfort | 1.9k | a/n: got this req in today based of this fic from yesterday. was listening to 'how do i say goodbye' by dean lewis, and well, the stars aligned themselves. i tried to make this short but angsty so someone lmk if i was successful! anyways, happy reading 🫶 read part i. here

~~~

It’s a warm May day yet your blood runs cold.

You know football’s a physical sport, having been on the receiving end of brutal physicality many times.

Pushes, shoves, stud-up tackles, you’ve had your fair share of bruises to show for multiple ninety minutes of running around chasing a little sphere.

Accidents happen, and you were very well aware.

But accidents weren’t supposed to be like this.

Accidents weren’t supposed to be accidents.

Accidents weren’t supposed to involve stretchers immediately rushing to the field.

Nor a silent crowd in a fully sold-out stadium.

Swallowing hard, you helplessly felt your adrenaline kick in, body subconsciously sprinting faster than you’d ever ran before.

Maybe you should’ve checked up on Leah after the blonde had taken the corner to the face. Maybe you should’ve been overbearing. Or looked into her eyes, so that you could’ve noticed the dazed look.

You could’ve stuck around a second longer instead of running back on defence.

You could have, you could have, you could have…but now you couldn’t.

There’s something about seeing an unmoving lump of limbs on the floor, especially of a loved one, chest tightening ever so cruelly, so painfully.

As you come to an abrupt stop beside Leah, you do your best to stay out of the medics' way.

Your hands shake, eyes wide at the blood streaming down the side of her face, the gash above her eye nothing but a waterfall of red.

You don’t realize it when the other girls reach you.

You don’t feel it as Alessia gently wraps her arms around your waist, trying to gently usher you away.

You don’t move an inch though. You can’t.

Your feet are rooted to the spot, eyes fixating on the way Leah’s chest isn’t moving up and down.

She was supposed to be breathing heavily. She had to be.

Sure she had insane fitness, but none of you on the team were yet at the point where seventy minutes of football didn’t feel tiresome- she surely wasn’t.

So why wasn’t her chest moving up and down? Why wasn’t it in the steady rhythm that you loved to listen to when you’d cuddle up to her on late nights after a tiresome day.

Why wasn’t her cheeky smile on her face? The consistent response of her ‘I’m fine’ she would mumble to you each and every time she took a hit or a particularly hard tackle.

Why was she not up yet?

It’s sometime between Lia stepping between you and your view of your girlfriend do you find your voice, panic and realization clear as you call for Leah.

Once.

Twice.

Then another time.

Yet no response.

You feel your own breathing pick up, blood rushing through your ears.

No.

No. No. No. No. NO.

You don’t realize you’ve screamed the words out loud, teammates and opposing players alike sharing grim looks of sympathy as many of them turned away from the sight of the medics.

Doing your best to claw your way out of the striker's tight grasp, you fight Alessia, feet digging into the grass as you try to gain the momentum to be near the English skipper.

Each try though, left you more defeated, the blonde’s grip strong as the ground between you and Leah somehow only increased with each attempt.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

The words rattle in your brain as you see a stretcher in your vision, sounds of sirens ringing faintly, so far away yet so close.

Begging Alessia to let you go, you put all your effort into breaking her hold on you, your hands trying to unlock her linked ones, the striker only pulling you back into her chest in retaliation, gentle murmurs being whispered into your ears.

Tears streaming down your face, heart in your stomach, throat sore from all your screaming, you watch in horror as the sea of medics slowly fade from your view, Leah’s cleats oddly the only thing left on the pitch- no trace of blood, of cleat marks, of the weight of the medical bag- the blonde gone without a trace.

Falling to your knees as Alessia finally let go of you, you curled into yourself, sobs wracking your body as your forehead hit the ground, your hands coming to cover your ears as you tried to block out the shrill noise of the ambulances.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

~~~

It’s the same words ringing in your head that has you jolting awake, you taking a deep inhale when you realize where you are, the familiar walls of your shared bedroom with Leah bringing you immediate comfort that has you slumping back into your pillow.

Feeling wetness on the fabric as you laid down, you realized you’d been crying in your sleep, your cheeks damp, forehead and body covered in a layer of swear as your shirt clung to you.

Fear kicking in as you realized why you were awake at this ungodly hour, you whipped your head to the side, eyes adjusting to the darkness just enough for you to make out your girlfriend’s sprawled out form beside you.

Swallowing hard, the images from earlier haunting your mind, you held your breath as you tried to listen for Leah’s quiet breathing, unable to see her chest rising from the bundle of blankets she was buried beneath.

She was awake, right?

Raising a shaking hand, you contemplated whether you should touch the blonde to soothe your worries.

You didn’t want to bother Leah, well aware of just how long it took her to sleep tonight, the constant pounding in her head frustrating her more than she’d like to admit, only able to get her rest as her body slowly succumbed to the exhaustion of the day.

Yet, with each second that passed, you got flashes of Leah lying face first in the graph, medics around her, the grass stained bright red, taunting you, teasing you as you wondered if you were imagining the breaths you were hearing.

Heart pounding yet again, you wanted to be safe. Sorry didn’t seem like an option.

Sorry wasn’t an option, not when it came to the love of your life.

Holding your breath, you tentatively reached out, hand shaking, moving mere millimetres every few seconds.

You didn’t want to wake her, but you needed to feel that she was alright.

Hand making gentle contact with the nape of the other girl’s neck, you froze as you felt her tense at your touch, muscles taut for a mere second before she relaxed into the feeling.

Waiting a second for her to adapt to your slightly cooler touch, you softly traced the length of her spine, following the bony pattern down to the space between her shoulder blades, hand coming to a rest as your fingers splayed out, trying to maximize the contact you had with her.

Feeling a sob of relief escape you as you felt Leah’s body move in time with her gentle breaths, you brought your other hand to cover your mouth, stifling the sound as you felt your chest wrack with the weight of the tension slowly dissipating.

Doing your best not to move too much as your body shook, you wiped your tears with the hand covering your mouth, not yet ready to let go of your girlfriend, her mere physical presence providing you comfort you couldn’t ever express in words.

Fabric of your sleep shirt tucked into your mouth as you held back shaky pants, you moved to lay on your side, needing to be able to see Leah before you’d feel your heart settle for the night.

You couldn’t lose her. You couldn’t afford to. Not now, and not ever.

Sunshine on your darkest days, the constant light at the end of the tunnel, the woman was your rock through thick and thin.

She was the first person you’d ever truly trusted, and the last you ever would.

She was cocky, over-confident, a cheeky tease, an energetic kid at heart.

She was determined, loving, caring, attentive, respectful, thoughtful.

She was the best thing you had and god did it terrify you that you could’ve lost her yesterday.

A piece of your mind knew her injury wasn’t that serious, the lack of the blonde out-right fainting immediately a good sign, a comforting one really.

Yet, your heart still couldn't believe it, not yet at least.

Letting your hand come to gently brush away the messy strands that had come to cover her face in her sleep, you let your thumb run over her eyebrow as you sighed gratefully.

She was okay.

She was here.

You repeated the words like a mantra in your head, trying to get your racing heard to settle.

Nodding to yourself as you tried to believe the statements, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Leah stir at your ministrations, your hand coming to an abrupt stop as she just barely opened an eye, taking a second to register that it was still late, nearly the middle of the night.

Keeping your voice low as you watched her sleep-laden eyes briefly search yours, you resumed your earlier actions, hoping it would bring the blonde the same level of comfort if brought you.

“Go to sleep, yeah? I’ve got you. You’re safe….”

Feeling Leah sleepily nod at your quiet words, you felt your heart melt as she sluggishly pulled herself towards your body, a blonde mop coming to rest on your chest as she curled around your side, an arm coming to wrap around your waist as she held on tightly.

“Love you…”

The words were muffled, being mumbled into the cotton of the old t-shirt you’d stolen from the defender eons ago, yet you heard them clear as day.

“I love you too…so so so much…”

Your words were hoarse, but in her sleepy state Leah didn’t notice and you couldn't help but be glad.

Placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head, your lips lingering for a second, you inhaled deeply, trying to commit the easing restlessness in your body to memory, the weight of the blonde on your chest bringing you the reassurance you so desperately craved, the pair of you breathing in tandem as sleep overtook her again, content in the solace that your arms around her form brought.

You didn’t want to worry about what life would be like without the blonde, and thankfully, you didn’t have to.

Here, with her on your chest, small breaths puffing against the arms you held her close with, you let your worries fall away, lump in your throat easing rapidly with each second.

She was okay.

She was okay and here in your arms.

She was okay, and so you were okay- and you couldn’t thank the universe enough for either of the two.

And so with sleep beginning to creep up on you, you wiped the last few tears of relief away with the back of your hand, finally truly believing the words.

It would all eventually be okay- all of it- just as long as she was here with you.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #my writing #fic #hurt/comfort #angst #bis #sytibo

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know-its-for-the-better · 1 month

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taking care of a sick schlatt hcs

since the big guy is sick, but still streaming, here are some of the thoughts i’ve been having about what it would be like to take care of him as a partner (being extra parasocial today)

-he would be reluctant in accepting your care at first. a. he doesn’t want to get you sick bc then you will just both be miserable and he would rather take care of you b. he would hate to be the reason you start feeling bad c. he’s super protective over you and doesn’t want to see you sick it would make him sad

-however, after some compromising to make sure you don’t get yourself sick with his cold, he lets you begin to baby him

-in the morning, you wake up in the guest room, so the two of you don’t share too much of the same air (as much as it kills you to not be near him)but you go and make him breakfast before he wakes up

-as much as he bitches about not liking the taste of honey, you make him a special warm drink you think he will like containing whiskey, lemon, cinnamon, and just enough honey to help him, but not enough for him to notice. (a hot toddy, also known as the south’s cough syrup) this should help with his sore throat even though his morning voice combined with his sick voice and rasp makes him very hard not to kiss. it’s very sexy.

-once you know he’s awake you bring him his breakfast in bed with a smile on your face and a kiss on the napkin in your red lipstick that he loves so much. the two of you were usually very affectionate and the necessary distance has you losing it a little bit.

-once he’s awake he’s already back to work bc “the grind doesn’t stop baby” he says. but you are popping in every hour to make sure he doesn’t need any medicine, tissues, or water

-throughout his work day you are bringing him mandatory visits from jambo and [redacted] for snuggles that you can’t give him. you say “this cuddle is from me except it’s jambo bc you refuse to give me your sickness”

-you had the great idea of using the throat numbing spray(chloraseptic) you’d bought for other reasons… for it’s actual intended use. grabbing it from the bedside drawer you bring it to his office. “woah toots i appreciate you wanting to make me feel better, but i think that breaks our agreement on not getting you sick” he says. “nice try but i was thinking more about its medicinal use. open up and say ah.” you tell him as you spray it down his throat. “feel any better?” you ask. “no wonder you like this stuff so much! i can’t feel a thing and plus it tastes like cherries!” he says as he pokes at you

this next part is so long it is literally a one shot oops but i had the idea and ran with it! and it fits the theme!

-you tell him if he refers to blowing his nose as “blowing a load” on stream again there will be hell to pay. ofc he doesn’t care and does it anyway and you make him pay for it later on in the bedroom

end note: hello!! hope you enjoyed!! most of this is inspired by stuff he’s said on stream today and yesterday and the little interaction i had with him on todays stream (still freaking the fuck out over it btw. if you haven’t seen the clip i posted it on here. not to brag but i made the mf cackle)

#jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt x reader #schlatt hcs #schlatt headcanons #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt #schlatt fluff

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clockwayswrites · 3 months

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“I’m going to assume there’s not actually any data I need to look at,” Phantom said with a little fanged smirk. He leaned against the table, putting the lovely lines of his body on display.

Dick chuckled. “You got me. I just wanted to check in that you were doing okay. We got a little, ah, intense yesterday.”

“Isn’t that sweet of you, bluebird,” Phantom said. His smile softened some. “Who knew that your mother henning would continue over to your fuck buddies.”

Fuck buddies, as if this was something Dick was out doing with just anyone. He pushed aside the bitter taste at being seen that way. It’s not like Phantom was implying Dick was fucking other people right then… just that this was Dick’s usual M.O.

He didn’t know how to tell Phantom that it wasn’t, not without stepping too far over that line again.

“Hey, what can I say,” Dick said, putting on his best smile. “It’s only fun for me if it’s fun for everyone.”

Phantom tilted his head curiously. “That’s not the same as it’s only fun if no one gets hurt.”

“Never said it was.” Though wasn’t that a thought what with the spark of interest in Phantom’s eyes.

“Huh. Well, I’m sore, sure, but in a good way. You don’t have to worry about me, though you still get a firm down boy. I am not up for a round two—”

“Nine.”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “—today.”

“Okay, but,” Dick stepped forward, bracing his arms on the table so that he was bracketing Phantom. “I could blow you.”

As close as they were, Dick could see Phantom’s eyes dilate at the suggestion.

“Thought that might interest you.”

“What can I say, I’m very aware how pretty of a mouth you have,” Phantom said, that fanged smirk back gracing his own lovely mouth.

Dick couldn’t help but reach up and run his thumb over one of the fangs. He was very aware that if he pressed just a little harder that the pointed tooth would slice into his finger. “I think you have me beat on the pretty mouth.”

Phantom laughed and god if it wasn’t always a pretty sound. “Well, next time you’re willing to be… a little hurt I’ll let you enjoy that.”

Dick swallowed.

“But you’ve already made me an offer.”

“I have.”

“Better get to it before we’re missed then.”

Dick had no issue falling easily to his knees at Phantom’s feet.

It was a quick effort— they both knew that they didn’t have too long before someone came looking for them— but it didn’t really need to be. Phantom still seemed to be riding a bit of a high from last night and Dick certainly had no issues treating Phantom to all the skill he had.

He obediently let the rough hand in his hair tilt his head up enough so that he could meet Phantom’s green eyes as the other came down his throat.

“Such a pretty mouth,” Phantom practically purred.

And damn if that didn’t feel like the highest of praise right then.

#dp x dc #death defying #dick is discovering new kinks #other parts in the tag ->#masked

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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year

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Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

Cinderella wakes to birdsong.

It brings her to tears. She tangles her fingers in the soft bedcovers, pulling them up and over her face. Her tears blur the gentle light seeping through the fabric so that she feels like she might still be dreaming. Her body is pleasantly sore from dancing, but not hurting like it does after a day of chores. Her hair smells of the gentle oils Helga patiently brushed into it rather than fireplace soot. The gnawing loneliness that’s accompanied her for so many years is wonderfully quiet, soothed by the long evening spent in the arms of her friend.

The Prince.

Cinderella huffs a laugh, disbelieving, and pulls the sheets away from her face. Her room is pleasantly cool, the air brisk though the windows aren’t open. She breathes in deeply. Her friend is the Prince. Her impossible, magic-wielding friend who saved her life and listened to her worries and always made her laugh is the prince.

And he’s a hell of a dancer too.

Even the memory of their dances thrills her. Cinderella jumps out of bed , unable to bear the sudden surge of energy coursing through her, and braces for the shock of cold stone against her bare feet. It never comes. Instead, the floor hums with the sort of warmth she’s begun to associate with magic. Cinderella laughs and sways to the window, humming portions of the previous night’s songs under her breath.

The people! The music! The colors! Her memory is a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful she’s ever seen in her entire life. At the center of it all is her friend and his gentle smile, his hand outstretched for hers.

Cinderella eases the window open. She’d been too nervous to take a proper look outside yesterday, but today is a different story. For all the elation she feels, there’s also something settled inside of her. A sort of contentment that sits at the bottom of her stomach where it won’t be easily swayed. So she opens the window without worrying if she’s allowed to do so and takes in a lungful of fresh morning air.

“The late Queen’s gardens,” Helga says from the doorway. Cinderella turns to find Helga with a breakfast tray balanced on one hand and a letter held in the other. Helga’s eyes sparkle. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

They are. Cinderella was listening to the birds and not looking at the garden, but she knows it’s true. The greenery is lush and well-maintained, the flowers blooming big and beautiful along a carefully swept path. She can hear water from beyond a row of hedges. A fountain?

“Everything is beautiful,” Cinderella says. The Prince’s green eyes against the night sky comes to mind and Cinderella’s heart flips. She clears her throat. “The grounds. The castle. It’s all very beautiful.”

Helga hums and closes the door with her foot. “Would you like to sit by the window then?”

“Yes,” Cinderella says. The idea of eating the croissant and eggs Helga brought while listening to the birds and watching the flowers gently sway in the breeze is so wonderful that Cinderella doesn’t see the problem right away. She frowns and looks around the bedroom. Besides the bed and the vanity, there’s not much more furniture in the room. “I can help you with some chairs…?”

Helga laughs and waves the hand holding the letter. “Don’t be silly, dear. It will only take a moment.”

Cinderella has to bite her tongue to keep from yelping when Helga lets go of the tray suddenly. It doesn’t fall. Instead the food hangs in the air as if set on an invisible table. Helga whips out her wand and flicks it at the stone near the window.

A chair and a small garden table rise from the floor, melting in reverse. The table is set with a series of dainty forks and a crystal glass. After a moment’s thought, Helga waves her wand again and a bottle of orange juice appears.

“Wow,” Cinderella says.

Helga is frowning. “Yes, well, it will do. Somehow, I always conjure garden furniture even when I had the loveliest tea table in mind…” She busies herself setting up the breakfast tray. “Come now, sit, sit, sit. Before everything gets cold.”

Cinderella doesn’t move. She’s never noticed it before because of the low lighting at night, but Helga’s magic looks a little like her friend’s magic. There aren’t as many colors and it’s very faint, but when the sunlight catches it just right, the air shines. As she watches, the shine sinks into the floor until the chair and table look as mundane as can be. Cinderella is fascinated. “How does that work?”

“How does what work?” Helga asks absently. She holds the orange juice up to the light, squinting at it. “I swear I meant to conjure peach juice…”

“The conjuring magic,” Cinderella says. She waves her hand to the table and chair. “That looked different than the floating magic you do.”

That gets Helga’s attention. Her gaze snaps from the orange juice to Cinderella. “Looked?”

“The magic came up from the stone,” Cinderella explains. She waves her hands in a vague approximation of it. “Then, when you finished, it went back.”

Helga doesn’t answer right away. She stares at Cinderella very hard, her gaze piercing, as if trying to see if Cinderella is being serious or not. She chews her cheek and finally says, “You’ve seen a lot of magic?”

Deny it. It’s not a voice, not really. It’s an ancient instinct and Cinderella works very hard to make sure that none of it shows on her face. Carefully, Cinderella shrugs. “No. But my friend uses a lot around me. Sometimes I can guess where it is.”

Slowly Helga’s shoulders relax. “…from exposure makes sense,” she murmurs under her breath. Then, louder, “You shouldn’t look at magic, dear. It can hurt your eyes.”

It doesn’t hurt. Cinderella smiles. “I’ll try not to.”

Satisfied, Helga says, “To answer your question, it looked different because that wasn’t a spell. I don’t have magic, remember?” She twirls her wand. “I use this to direct what my Lord lends me. What I did just then was—well. This castle is very old, yes? It’s got magic of its own that I can ask for help from time to time.”

“The castle did this?” Cinderella asks. She studies the table and chair with renewed interest. They look solid and well-made and the food seems edible. She thinks about the way the magic rose from the ground. “I wonder…”

“Pardon?”

But Cinderella is already extending her hand. The single chair next to the window looks lonely. It would be so wonderful if there was another chair for Helga to sit and have breakfast with her… “If you would?” she asks the castle.

Where the magic curled and bent to Helga’s will, it explodes under Cinderella’s. Another chair springs into existence faster than Cinderella expected. The table extends another foot with a pop! and a second bottle of orange juice appears next to a second glass.

“Oh my,” Cinderella says. She flexes her hand. The magic twines around her fingers before slipping back into the stone floor. She grins. “How wonderful!”

Helga blinks very quickly. “Yes…yes, wonderful.” She studies Cinderella, almost speaks, and then seems to reconsider. Finally, she says, “I take it the second chair is an invitation?”

“Yes,” Cinderella says. Perhaps she should have asked Helga before she acted, but she didn’t feel as if she needed to. Like Helga said, the castle was right there to help. “I would enjoy the company.”

They settle at the little table, Helga pouring juice and serving the breakfast pastries she brought. Cinderella’s feet are warm from the magic sitting so close to the surface of the stone and her heart is warm when, unthinking, Helga spreads jam over a croissant for Cinderella.

“Oh,” Helga says when she notices. She’d been staring into space as she prepared Cinderella’s breakfast and, now, jolts back to herself. There’s a light flush on her cheeks when she says, “Excuse me, my mind was elsewhere. Do you like strawberry jam? I can go to the kitchens for fresh pastries—”

“It’s perfect,” Cinderella assures. She remembers her mother’s hands around a crystal jar of jam, a whisper of just a little before dinner. She takes a bite of her croissant and feels a thrill at the sweetness of the jam. Just like she remembers. “Delicious.”

“An invitation came for you at dawn,” Helga says after a few moments of silent eating. Her eyes sparkle as she draws the envelope out from her skirts and holds it so the sunlight reflects off the golden seal. “I wonder who it could be from?”

The second invitation. The Prince told her it was coming, but Cinderella’s heart flips when she sees it anyway. She takes the envelope from Helga as if it were made of butterfly wings and opens it carefully. The faint smell of oranges drifts from the card inside.

The Baron’s Daughter is hereby cordially invited to the Castle on this day for a continuation of festivities…

Then, at the bottom, her friend has written I’ll pick you up in his own handwriting.

Cinderella strokes the letters of her friend’s writing. Each one is elegantly shaped and perfectly placed. She can imagine him as a boy sitting politely during his lessons, quill clutched tightly in hand, and brow furrowed as he practiced each letter.

“What was he like?” Cinderella asks.

“Pardon?”

“I want to know how the Prince was as a boy,” Cinderella says. When the silence stretches, she looks up from her invitation to see unease on Helga’s face. “Helga?”

“That’s…difficult for me to say,” Helga says.

“Were you not with him as a child? I assumed from the way you spoke…”

“No, I was,” Helga says. She tucks her hands under the table and looks out the window. The sunlight falls across the older woman’s face, highlighting the way the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth deepen when she frowns. “The Prince now and the Prince then are two very separate people. I don’t want to scare you away with stories of a person who no longer exists.”

Cinderella waits for Helga to say more. When the silence again goes on for too long, she prompts, “What do you think would scare me away?”

Again, Helga hesitates. There seems to be a war going on behind her pale eyes. Cinderella thinks that she must be twisting her apron under the table.

“He wasn’t kind,” Helga says at last. She busies herself wiping a stray smear of butter from the table. “Anything more, you’d need to ask him.”

Helga means to end the conversation there. Cinderella could let it end – should let it end – but the words echo. He wasn’t kind.

Cinderella’s first thought is good. She’s glad that her friend wasn’t kind. Cinderella has lived her entire life being kind and she’s seen what rewards are at the end of that road. Good that her friend knew better than to let others extract kindness from him like blood, good he didn’t sleep next to an empty hearth praying for the ones who put him there to return kindness with affection, good that he protected himself in a way Cinderella never could.

Cinderella’s second thought is why? Why did Helga sound apologetic? Did she think Cinderella would think less of him?

“When I was a little girl,” Cinderella finds herself saying, “I spent many hours in the garden.” She looks out the window and sees a different garden than the former Queen’s. She sees roses and sprigs of lavender as far as the eye can see. Her mother’s garden. “My mother had quite the green thumb. The things she could grow! I was so young then and didn’t have much reference, but it seemed as if every flower bloomed bigger and every bush grew fuller under her touch.”

“That’s quite the gift,” Helga says.

Cinderella hums. She loved her mother best in the garden. When her mother waited for her father by the window, she seemed colder and more distant. In the garden, her mother smiled. “It was. If we lived anywhere else, we would have had butterflies all year round. But being where the estate is, we only had a few weeks in spring and a little in fall when the butterflies would pass through the garden on their way to the Capital.”

“I didn’t realize you come from so far west,” Helga says.

Cinderella nods. “Near the mountains.” She finds her gaze being pulled toward the west as she talks. How far away is her home? At least a week’s ride by carriage. “I always waited for the butterflies to visit. One day, when I was very young, I woke up to see they’d come during the night. I raced outside to see them up close. There weren’t many of them yet, just a few, and I had the good luck to spot one resting on the ground.” Cinderella’s lip curls. “Only it wasn’t resting any longer. It had the misfortune to land on an anthill. The ants were hungry, I suppose. They were tearing the butterfly apart piece by piece.”

Even now she remembers the sick horror that filled her at the sight. The vicious hold the ants had on the blue wings, pinning the poor thing to the ground. The way the butterfly’s antennae waved in panic. The smell of the ants as they poured from their mound to feast.

“How awful,” Helga says. She’s watching Cinderella carefully, her hands still in her lap. “What happened then?”

“Nature,” Cinderella says. She feels as if her mouth is not her own when she says, “There’s nothing awful about nature. The ants needed food after the harsh winter and the butterfly was unlucky. It wasn’t the ants’ fault that they killed the butterfly. It was simply nature.” Cinderella breathes in through her nose and stiffens like a woman freed from a trance. “That’s what my mother said when she caught me killing the ants.”

A sense memory: her shiny black shoes coming down on the damp, red dirt as she collapsed the ant hill. The flecks of mud that splattered her ankles when she crushed their exoskeletons under her heel. Her mother’s hand hot on her shoulder. The percussive force of her mother’s shout ringing in her ears.

“She told me that I needed to try and understand the ants,” Cinderella continues. Her feet aren’t cold and muddy now. They’re warm from the magic coating them, tucked neatly under her chair. “She understood I was upset about the butterfly, but being upset was no excuse for the violence I responded with. I shouldn’t have punished the ants for what was in their nature to do.”

“A wise woman.”

Cinderella smiles with closed lips. The sun is well and truly risen now and its harsh rays feel hot against Cinderella’s cheek and collarbones. “A kind woman.”

“Ah,” Helga says, understanding.

Cinderella wonders what it is Helga’s understood. “Hm?”

Helga weighs each word carefully. “If I may offer my two cents, my lady?” When Cinderella nods, she says, “Your mother was right that it was in the ants’ nature to kill.”

Why is she disappointed in Helga’s response? Cinderella sips her juice to hide her frown. “That’s true.”

“However,” Helga says, “nature does not protect one from another’s nature. Yes, it was in the ants’ nature to eat the butterfly. But perhaps it is in your nature to kill ants for tormenting butterflies.”

Cinderella sets down her juice and gives Helga her full attention.

“Considering that,” Helga says lightly, “was it so wrong to kill them for hurting something that meant so much to you?”

Oh. Cinderella swallows, desperately willing away the ache in her throat. Her lip trembles. Helga is looking at her with such deep understanding that Cinderella feels shaken to her core.

All these years and she understands now why her mother’s words bothered her so much. Her mother always seemed to think Cinderella should behave as if nothing affected her, not her mother’s absence, not her father absence, and not the violence of the ants against the butterfly. Helga is saying the opposite. Of course, Cinderella acted that way. Of course! Like the ants, Cinderella also had a nature. Cinderella, like the ants, also had a right to act the way she did.

A knot she didn’t know existed unravels in her chest. Cinderella doesn’t need to sit quietly when an injustice is being done to her or others. She doesn’t need to make excuses for the aggressor or understand their motives. She can act. She can defend. She can protect herself.

(It was never about the ants at all.)

Cinderella clears her throat. “Yes.” Thank you. She can’t bring herself to say the words. “I’d like to wear the blue dress tonight.”

“We had to rush getting ready last night,” Helga says. She reaches across the table to place her hand on top of Cinderella’s. It’s cooler than the sunlight but warms Cinderella all the same. “Why don’t we take out time getting ready, hm?”

“I’d like that,” Cinderella says.

--------

Thanks for reading!

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#long post #my writing #Cinderella fan fiction #cinderella retelling

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justlemmeadoreyou · 5 months

Text

windfall | (mechanic!harry part2)

summary: part 2 to this

word count: 2k

warnings: cursing

masterlist | ask box(requests are open!)

As you walked away from the garage, frustration and annoyance built up within you. Harry's indifferent and grumpy attitude was not making this situation any easier. You considered finding another garage, but deep down, you knew that might not be a feasible option given the state of your car.

You didn’t even want to go to work today. Sleeping curled up in the backseat of the car had made your body sore, especially your back. But leaving work would mean staying at the garage all day, listening to scolds from Harry, and you didn’t want that either.

So, you decided to go to work.

Walking to the nearest bus stop, you managed to get a bus that dropped you off near your office, but you still would have to walk half a mile.

Great.

You reached the office after about an hour, completely disheveled and tired. You had gotten a bit sweaty too, that failed the purpose of taking a shower, and you were already in the need of another.

Walking in, the receptionist as well as the other few looked at you judgmentally, but you successfully managed to ignore them, too tired to start a conversation and explain your circumstances.

Walking to your worn-out leather chair, you threw your bag on the table, and slumped down on the chair. You looked at your computer, and then at the pile of files you had on your table, as well as the reports you had to finish working on, to get signed by Jake, your boss. You pouted; it was so much work for just one person. The worn-out chair creaked as you shifted, contemplating how to tackle the mountain of tasks in front of you.

Turning on the computer, you got up from your chair, and decided to go for a coffee run.

Turning the coffee machine on, and placing your cup below, you stared at the liquid pouring down as it gradually filled the cup. After a few moments, another person entered the room, and you looked over your shoulder.

Thankfully, it was your friend, Mia.

Mia was one of the very few girls in the office who worked at the same position as you, and you two had grown really close over the past 6 months, when she had driven you home one night from the bar, you had been really wasted and she was he only one sober. She had made you drink water, take a Tylenol, and tucked you in. She was so caring.

She walked with a smile up to you, proceeding to retrieve her own cup. She then came and stood next to you, while the machine was still filling up your cup.

“Morning.”

“Morning. You look tired. What happened?” she asked. You sighed and frowned, as all of the things that had happened in just the last 24 hours came rushing back, making you want to cry so bad.

“Yeah, I took the bus, and walked like, half a mile to reach here”

“Oh god. What about your car?”

“It totaled. And my apartment too, it’s gone. My landlord kicked me out.”

“Jesus, that’s awful. So you slept in your car?”

“Mhm” you removed your cup, and replaced it with hers. Taking a sip, you closed your eyes as it cascaded down your throat. You hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and the coffee gave you some energy to finish some of your work, till the afternoon at least.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” she frowned too, feeling sorry for you.

“It’s alright. Should have seen that coming. I mean, I spent so much money on the concert tickets last month, I almost went broke. I couldn’t even pay rent, and it was due since so many months”

“Still. That’s so bad. If you want, you can stay at mine for a few days. My roommate has gone for a trip and I think she’ll come back next week”

Your eyes brightened. She was such a gem. You immediately put your cup down, and hugged her.

“Thank you so much. So so much”

Rest of the day went by great. You were able to submit 5 reports, and completed most of the files and cleared them off your desk. You had finally managed to find a place to live, at least for the next few days, and you were sure you could figure something out till then.

Walking back to the garage, you had a cute smile on your face. The prospect of having a place to stay for the next few days infused you with a sense of relief, and not having to see Harry everyday was an added advantage.

Reaching the garage, you spotted your car and walked to it. There was someone down below, working on it. You decided to sit by for a bit, to find Harry and tell him about the new conditions. Surely, he will be glad to see less of you throughout the week.

You knocked the hood of the car, hoping the person below would listen.

He came sliding out, but he wasn’t Harry.

And he was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, with brunette hair. He was wearing a tank-top, the shirt tied around his waist. There was a bit of grease here and there, but you didn’t mind.

“Yeah?”

You blinked and shook your head, bringing your eyes back up to his face.

“Uh-yeah. I was just-I came to ask that-Oh-this-this is my car. I wanted to ask, is there any progress?” you stumbled a bit around your words, but managed to blurt out at least an understandable sentence.

“Oh, yeah. I checked the engine and it was…well, in a bad condition. I will have to replace the air filters, check the exhaust and combustion, and the fuel too. Will have to replace the battery too”

He got up, cleaning his hands on a stray cloth.

“Oh. It’s not totaled yet, is it?”

“No, lord no. It’ll be much lower than that. How much did you buy this for?”

“About 35,000 dollars”

“Nope, this will be about 600 dollars.”

“Oh, thank god. I met, Harry? In the morning. And he scared me so bad. I felt that it was gone”

“No, he just likes to give hard time to everyone. I’m Niall, by the way” he extended his hand for a handshake, and you gladly did.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. And he really scared me so much.”

“Yeah, he just does that so people use their cars better. Or at least live in fear till the repair is done. “

You shook your head, and remembered that you had to pack up your stuff, since Mia, and the moving truck was going to be here soon.

“That’s so bad. Is he around?”

“Yeah, he’s in the back. I’ll call him.”

“Sure”

He went in and came back after a while, and Harry still had his nose scrunched up, and shoulders slumped, hands crossed in the front.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh-I wanted to tell you that-my friend, she offered me her apartment for a while, so for a week, I will be living with her. So I’ll take my stuff away and you can take my number, call me if it’s done.”

“Cool. But I don’t do calls. You’ll have to be come and check yourself”

“Don’t be a dick” Niall interrupted, “I can take your number. I’ll call you if it’s done early”

You smiled, and gave him your number. He promised to call you, and reassured you that he’ll do his best work on it. It made you feel a bit relaxed, and at ease. At least, everyone was not as rude as Harry. Soon, Mia came with her car and a truck, so you could move your stuff from your old apartment as soon as possible. There wasn’t much: a couch, two almirahs, your bed which had been dissembled, the mattress a TV, a refrigerator, an oven, kitchen utensils and an induction. Some other small appliances too, like the iron, straightener, etc, but that could fit in your bag.

After everything was loaded and your car was empty, you gave the keys to Niall, and picked up your bag, walking to Mia’s car and keeping it in the backseat. You went around and sat in the front, as she drove away to her place, the truck following behind.

The night was dark as Mia's car cruised through the quiet streets. You sat in the front seat, staring out of the window as the city lights blurred and headlights blinked. The stress of your car and the situation of next week, when her roommate would be back, still lingered on your shoulders. But, you were glad to have found a temporary refuge at her place.

Upon reaching Mia's place, you stepped out of the car. The air inside was cozy and inviting. Mia led the way, and you followed suit, hauling your heavy back awkwardly.

After moving your stuff to a corner, you both slumped down on the couch. The day had been tiring, but the welcoming aroma of her home made you feel at ease.

With Mia's help, you settled into the spare room she had graciously offered. It wasn't much, but it was a haven compared to the uncertainty of your car. You thanked Mia again, overwhelmed by her kindness, and assured her that you would find a more permanent solution soon.

The night unfolded with shared laughter, stories, and a home-cooked meal. Mia was a great cook, and you hadn’t tasted her food in so many months. You talked and laughed, and having dinner with a friend was so comforting. As the clock ticked away, fatigue set in, and you found solace in the softness of the spare bed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking you from a restful sleep. You opened your bag and took out your toiletries, and laid out the clothes for the day. Brushing your teeth, freshening up and taking a bath, you felt so much better than you did yesterday.

As you sat on the dining table drinking coffee with Mia, your phone buzzed.

It was an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Niall

Your heartbeat increased in your chest. The gorgeous brunette had messaged you?!

You put the cup down, taking the phone down. Opening his chat, you quickly typed out a reply:

Hi, good morning, Niall :)

You didn’t respond to texts from unknown mechanics with a good morning message and a smile usually, but he was different. He treated you with so much kindness, and to be honest, you had a little crush on him.

His response was quick,

Morning, love. How you been? Sleep well?

Your heart fluttered at the endearment in his message. It was unexpected, especially considering your recent interactions with mechanics, particularly the grumpy Harry. Niall's tone was a stark contrast, and you couldn't help but smile at the screen.

Yeah, slept better knowing my car is in good hands. Thanks again for your help. And you?

you replied, genuinely interested in how his night had been.

Niall's response was swift,

Glad to hear that! I slept like a log, thanks. You off to work? Yeah. You? Already there. Was working on your car just before I texted Oh. Well…good luck, I guess??? Lol. Yeah, it's all in a day's work. Don't worry; I've got it covered. Your car will be up and running smoothly in no time. Thanks, Niall. I appreciate it. No worries, love. Call me if you need anything. Sure, thanks

You closed your phone, throwing it inside your bag, you walked out to the door with a huge smile on your face.

a/n: i tried writing it better!hoip

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mywritingonlyfans · 10 months

Text

Nurturing Love // Alex Turner X Reader! Fluff!

prompt: taking care of alex while he's with laryngitis, spending time together, there's one marriage proposal and cute talks and reader watching glasto with the other gfs.

words: 4,5K. (please give it a try, it's not smut but isn't bad ;')

You were aware that Alex was tired. And you thought you were going to meet him because of that, but when Matthew jokingly said it was as if Alex got sick from not being close to you, you couldn't help but worry. You knew immediately that your early arrival was due to Alex's state and stubbornness. And then, when he called you on the phone, asking if you were already nearby, you noticed his faltering and high-pitched voice, which went unnoticed by you due to the excitement of returning to his arms again.

"I liked the jacket." He ran his hand over the dark green fabric of the Neca 09, pulling you towards him by the collar. You smiled softly and satisfied to see him, even though he had noticeable dark circles, and you knew you would call his attention for not taking better care of himself.

"Your clothes bring me a special comfort when you're not around, it works well." You kissed his neck, entwining your fingers in the nape of his hair as he hugged you tightly against his body, causing your toes to momentarily leave the ground. You felt like medicine to him, just the feeling of having your warm body close to his already made him feel more energized.

"I'm glad to hear that. I like it when I wear them again and they smell like you." He smiled sincerely, one of those smiles with joyful lines at the corners of his gentle eyes and timidly showing his teeth. You blushed as if it were one of the first times, and he tightened his grip around your waist in contentment. Expressing feelings verbally was more than just words; it was like you found a more meaningful way to say you missed each other.

When you went to kiss him, he caressed your head and kissed your nose. You laughed in denial, "You have a sore throat, don't you? Neither you nor Matthew are good at hiding things." His cheeks turned a rosy blush. He’d question you on that, but it wasn't as if he didn't understand that you could read him very well; he was the same way with you.

"In my defense, it started yesterday, it's not that bad yet." You looked at him suspiciously, and he simply took your bags to the hotel room along with his things.

"And it doesn't hurt?" You sounded skeptical. Alex didn't answer, but from the dry coughs he had already given, you didn't need any answers.

"You don't need to worry, pumpkin. I'm fine." You nodded, watching him lazily snuggle into the bed and cover his eyes due to the brightness. He was trying, that you couldn't deny. You held the hotel phone in your hand, dialing for room service, and soon Alex's attention was on you as you twirled the phone cord around your fingers, ordering lemon and honey tea, soup, and requesting a humidifier. You avoided looking at him, hating to feel like his boss, something that Alex wouldn't deny if you asked him about it. He was certain he would do whatever you wanted, no matter the circumstances.

"Have you eaten today?" You asked softly, and Alex shook his head, still smiling lightly because he liked having you there for him.

"Do the guys know you're not feeling well?" When he denied it once again, he could sense your discomfort matching his own. He didn't need to say that he felt bad about it; they would have another show soon, in fact, in a few hours, and in a few days it would be Glastonbury. It was inevitable, and knowing Alex, you knew his mind was a mess, and in a way, he felt guilty.

"I appreciate you being ‘ere." He made a grabbing motion with his hands, like a child longing for comfort. You joined him, but not before turning off the lights, hoping he could rest for a while. "We'll figure this out, Al. It's not your fault." He nodded, nestling against your chest as your fingers found their way back into his hair, and his arms embraced your waist. "I can still sing, everything’ll be alright," his voice trembled, and you held him closer to you. Not wanting to argue, you simply kissed his cheek, praying it wouldn't worsen as it was still in the early stages, and hoping he would feel better soon.

…

He managed to sleep a little, but unfortunately, it didn't improve his condition. In fact, it left him in more pain than before, and now his throat felt scratchy.

"Alexander, babe?" you whispered, helping him sit up. He murmured softly, "Yes, pumpkin," with difficulty, and watched your worried eyes as you tucked him in with the blankets.

"Promise me you won't strain your voice if you feel it'll cost you too much?" You sounded cautious, knowing it wasn't about you, even though you cared deeply. Besides, you couldn't fathom how detrimental it would be for them to cancel a show, but you still wanted Alex to prioritize his well-being.

"I'm fine, I swear," he smiled, rubbing his hand against his throat. It was clear he was far from fine; you would find it surprising if he even had a voice the next day.

"Promise me, Alex?" You looked at him more seriously, holding the warm cup of tea in your hands, and he nodded. Taking his first sip, feeling the warmth soothing his scratchy throat, he let out a satisfied sigh.

You smiled, settling next to him under the covers. It was strange for Alex to think that he wouldn't have thought of asking for tea, yet it was your first instinct, and it was helping.

"I promise."

"Good," you murmured. It was as if his emotional state reflected onto you, and it was true. You wouldn't be able to feel at your best if he wasn't feeling at his.

Once he finished the tea, he picked up the bowl of soup. He wasn't hungry, but seeing your eyes lacking their usual spark, even if just a little bit, saddened him. So he tried.

"We can share; you probably aren't very hungry." He chuckled, wrinkling his nose as he looked at the spoon.

"Al, I don't think your case is contagious, and even if it were, it wouldn't make a difference. Besides, if you make me stay here for an entire week without kissing you, I'll kill you."

He laughed, looking at you with adoration. He tilted his head slightly, and you followed him. It was slow and gentle, with your noses touching and both of you smiling between kisses like fools. You had missed it so much.

"It must be terrible not being able to kiss me, I agree," you rolled your eyes, his ears were cold but still blushing, while the apple of his cheeks burned with a smile.

He took a spoonful into his mouth, feeling comforted, though he couldn't tell if it was because of you or the soup.

"You know, I had a dream about you. I think I was longing for you so much that I couldn't get you out of my mind, even while sleeping," he said simply, as if it were a routine thing.

"And what was it about?" you asked curiously as he passed you the spoon, and the sweet taste of pumpkin warmed you from the inside.

"I don't remember much, just that it was peaceful, like a big bright house, and you were sleeping on my chest while I whispered something. We were definitely older, but what I remember vividly is the feeling of being safe and happy," his face was still flushed, and it wasn't just from the slight fever he had acquired.

You stayed quiet for a moment, unable to contain a silly smile. "Does that happen often?" His adorable blush was evident in his voice. He was aware that he had just mentioned a future where you were in it, didn't he?

"I’d say so, pumpkin. I think ‘bout it quite a lot,” he replied. And then you both allowed yourselves to be enveloped by silence until the soup was finished, and he made a joke about it being as tasty and sweet as you. It sounded just like Alex, cheeky yet undeniably adorable.

…

The boys had understood, of course, and now it wasn't just you worried about Alex's health. That brought you some relief. They were ready for soundcheck, and although you were restless and watching from a distance, you couldn't stop thinking about how tumultuous his mind must be. "He'll be fine," James reassured, gently patting your back.

The first few notes came out hoarse from his mouth, and as sexy as it might have seemed, it was impossible not to notice that he wasn't well. Every now and then, he would scratch his throat, and Matthew finished the song. "Doesn't pushing himself make it worse?" James looked at you sadly. "Yes, but he doesn't want to hear us. He thinks canceling at the last minute will be bad. He needs rest. You should talk to him; he would listen to you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Me?" James laughed and nodded. "He knows he needs to rest; he's just stubborn. We know he listens to you. He might be fine now, but if he loses his voice, it'll be much worse." And you knew he was right, even though you hated having to be the voice of reason with Alex. You crossed your arms. "You shouldn't have made him sing so many consecutive days. What did you expect?"

Your eyebrows were furrowed, and James seemed pleased with that. "That's the girl we need right now, and don't worry, we won't repeat this mistake." Nonetheless, the show went on, and it was good. If it weren't for the news the next day about the cancellation due to his laryngitis, no one would have even known. However, having watched the show was painful for you, and it brought tears to your eyes. "Mardy Bum" had to be finished by the audience, Matthew covering some parts, and the frequent breaks to catch his breath and drink water. Knowing that his throat must have been hurting like never before made you want to run away with him from there. You had never longed for the end of one of their shows like that.

…

Upon arriving at the hotel room, you helped Alex undress, carefully removing the coat you had wrapped around him after the show. You insisted he take a shower before lying down, even though his body protested. Once you both changed into more comfortable clothes, you assisted him in putting on clean and warm ones. You settled on his lap and gently dried his hair, causing him to close his eyes in serene relief at your touch. You couldn't help but wonder if he was being a bit needy because you were taking care of him, or if he was truly feeling unwell. Either way, you were determined to be there for him.

The night passed quickly, with the two of you cuddled up and intertwined. You lay on your back while he rested his head on your chest, the sound of his rhythmic breathing bringing you comfort as your fingers wandered through his hair, just the way he liked it. The next day was designated solely for his rest, whether he wanted it or not. You woke up early and headed down to the hotel's store to gather some treats that could make his day better. On your way, you ran into Amanda, who had arrived recently to be at the Glastonbury with you as well. She greeted you warmly, comforting you by assuring that Alex would be fine. You couldn't hide the influence Alex had on you, and it was impossible for you to feel okay when he wasn't, not only because he was unwell, but also because you knew he was struggling with the thought of it all. "I think I'll head back. I want to be there when he wakes up," you told Amanda, who held your hand in hers and nodded. Her eyes seemed curious about your intertwined fingers, but you didn't pay much attention as your mind was too overwhelmed to question it. Later, when Kate reacted in a similar way upon seeing you, you accepted that it must be something between them.

Upon returning to the room, Alex was still asleep, and you cautiously snuggled up to him in bed, trying not to wake him. Yet, he slowly opened his eyes, allowing you to nestle against him. He was feeling better, although not necessarily energetic. There was no way he could push himself to perform that night if necessary. He expressed gratitude for having you there for him, knowing that you understood him well enough to know what was best for him when he was being difficult. "I'm proud of you, the show last night was amazing, Al," you said, stroking his chest and planting kisses on his damp cheeks. You understood his self-imposed pressure, but you wanted him to realize that there was nothing wrong with what was happening—unexpected setbacks were bound to occur. He hugged you tighter, and you showered him with more kisses on his face and head. "Would you like me to get you some tea? Or maybe we could catch some sunshine?" you cautiously suggested, thinking of something that could distract him. "No need, right ‘ere is just fine," he replied, rubbing his face against your chest and closing his eyes again. His voice was still hoarse, and he remained as needy as the day before. Fortunately, you had prepared movies to pass the day, and in a way, it comforted both of you. You missed spending time together, and although this wasn't the ideal way for it to happen, you cherished the moments you had. Moreover, Alex was certain that he wouldn't be able to bear being there if it weren't for you. Without you, that room would feel completely unfamiliar and unwelcoming, but with you there, he felt a bit at home, which made him feel safe. It was a beautiful thing that out of all the people in the world, you were his safe harbor.

"I should quit smokin’," he stated, rubbing his face against your chest and closing his eyes again. You looked at him, a bit puzzled. Although you would support him if that's what he wanted, you didn't expect him to bring it up. "Yeah?" you responded, as if he was just voicing an impulsive thought. "Yeah, I think, I mean, you don't smoke. It wouldn't be harmful to you in the near future, right?" He asked as if it was a simple mathematical equation. At any moment he brought up the possibility of a future with you, you felt a bit foolish. It meant a lot to you, and it was lovely to know that it meant something to him too.

"Well, you know, I met you knowing that you smoke. I don't expect that from you, and I don't think it's a concern. Although I appreciate the thought, Al," you smiled, a bit unsure of what to say, but your voice made your silly smile sound loud. He chuckled, noticing it. "Don't you want me to quit smoking?" "I didn't say that, and if you want to, I'll be here to help, but I think there are better reasons and I’m not one of them, at least I shouldn't be one," you replied. He seemed to ponder for a moment, and the comfortable silence enveloped you as your bodies remained intertwined.

"I've been strangely thinkin’ ‘bout how if we were to have children, I wouldn't want to be the person who influences them. And it wouldn't be interesting to be smokin’ ‘round you during that whole process," his voice held something, but it was clear he chose his words carefully. You didn't know what to say, but the atmosphere was purely cozy, and the way you snuggled into his arms was already an answer in itself. “You know, Alex, it's funny how even when you're sick, you're thinking ‘bout shovin’ a baby inside me," he laughed, a nasally sound that filled your chest. "And you love that."

…

Alex already felt at his best. He woke up feeling determined, did what he had in mind to do, and was excited about the evening show. Still, he remembered that he had promised you he would rest after that night. He had brushed his teeth and showered, clearly trying to mask his anxiety. Nevertheless, he kept his attention on you because he wanted to see you waking up, not wanting to miss your expression when you noticed him. As soon as your eyes opened, your sigh of frustration at not having Alex's body there with you was perceptible. He laughed in response, then knelt in front of you, smiling as he saw you groan and wrap yourself in his arms.

"What's wrong?" he arched his eyebrows, holding your face close to his. You seemed to be having difficulty breathing. Until then, you hadn't noticed anything different about yourself apart from the discomfort in your muscles. "I'm afraid you caught something infectious," you laughed, your throat begging for water, even though you knew it wouldn't help. "No way, pumpkin. I told you that," you quickly interrupted him, lightly kissing him until your weak body nestled against his chest. "It's okay. I can get sick. You're the one who has to perform for millions of people and can't, Mr. Turner."

Alex laughed, lifting your spirits. He squeezed you, feeling his own sweaty hands in anticipation. "But I don't want you to get sick, my girl, especially ‘cause of me." He caressed your back, noticing how sleepy you were. He didn't mind if you took the day to stay there, although he preferred to have you there with him during soundcheck and the festival. "It was for a good cause, Al." He laughed, but he didn't seem satisfied at all to see you unwell.

As soon as your dry cough filled the room and your eyes became watery, Alex pulled out a bottle of water for you. And then things happened too quickly for his liking. As soon as it touched your lips, you had already noticed. Your eyes traveled to your fingers, and at the same speed, the silliest smile of all had already settled on his face, his hands still on your waist. He took the water from you, and your eyes went to him, who was still kneeling in front of the bed. Your thumb traced the ring that had been placed on your ring finger during the night, as if it might not be real. He licked his lips, feeling a bit shy. It wasn't as if he didn't know your answer, but it was an important moment, and even with all the unforeseen events that made it messy, he wanted it to be memorably pleasant.

Before he could even ask, you had already thrown yourself into his arms, repeating incessantly that yes, you would. He began laughing like never before, and without a doubt, it would be something etched in his mind, your eyes shining brightly and your face all lit up in response. "I didn't even ask," his cute, nasal voice sounded, making it even sweeter. You held onto his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his as you looked at him excitedly. "Sure, ask so I can answer yes." He laughed more and had to wipe away some stubborn tears with his fingers. "Okay," he swallowed hard, holding you tighter, and you were already nodding your head in agreement. "Will you marry me, my girl?" The flood of "yeses" and the sensation of your body pressed against his made him regain consciousness. It was better than he could have imagined, even though in his plans, that week was supposed to be filled with outings and little surprises. But since you didn't seem to mind. And also, it didn't really matter to him as long as you were comfortable and happy, that was enough for him. The moment stayed in your minds throughout the day. While Alex cleverly convinced you to rest at least while he was doing soundcheck so that you would be feeling better for the show at night, knowing that you wouldn't give up on both, he told you how Kate had helped him choose the ring. It made you feel a little guilty for not paying as much attention to the ring itself while you were realizing what was happening. But that was something he found extremely cute to watch. He said that he had personally engraved his surname on the ring and told he wanted you to do the same with his one. All of this was followed by his sweet and timid voice, and his usual rosy nose that made you want to burst with joy.

You felt happy, but unfortunately, you couldn't deny that your body was killing you, and you needed to rest to make sure you would at least be fit enough to attend Glastonbury later. Alex felt relieved that you agreed, saving his and James' numbers in speed dial and ensuring that he would FaceTime you so that someone could hold the phone and make sure you didn't miss anything. You laughed but cherished every minute of it, and even so, he allowed himself to be delayed for a few more seconds, holding you tightly and making sure you ate just as you had done for him.

And he didn't fail to ask Amanda and Kate to stop by and check on you during that time, which led to a great conversation about the ring and future plans. It was pleasant to be surrounded by them and see how happy they were for you, even though they were stuck in a hotel room with you, no alcohol, just warm soup and tea being shared among you to help you feel better soon.

…

Alex had included your favorite songs in the setlist, and something told you it wasn't accidental. You weren't feeling your best, but you were well enough to be there. Besides, the girls would keep an eye on you to make sure nothing happened. "Alex told me to keep you by the side of the stage and not let you leave, don't be stubborn," James said as soon as he saw you, his tone playful. "Or what, Ford?" He didn't even dare to answer, and this time it was the girls who laughed. You enjoyed the feeling of being among the crowd or in front of the stage in the area reserved for photographers. However, Alex hated that. He always tried to get you away from there. He was afraid that something might happen, and you understood. Most of the time, not always, you gave in and did as he wished, staying close to him.

And on that night, you agreed with him for your own good. He was worried about you enough. If you were exposed to the cold air or felt weak among so many people, it would be terrible for you (as well as for him). Besides, if you knew, he might even stop the show and not continue until he made sure you heard him. You wouldn't doubt that. "James warned me," you chuckled mischievously. They were about to go on stage. He held your cold hand in his, and you could feel the ring against his soft skin. He kissed your also cold nose with a gentle smile and took off his blazer to put it over your layers of coat and scarf. "I know you don't like it, but at least this time, please, pumpkin." You agreed, both knowing that this would happen again in several upcoming shows. "I'll be right here in your line of sight, fiancée." He seemed satisfied with the small victory, finding it cute even though he felt bad that your voice strained from a sore throat. He kissed you. "I won't let you down, okay? I promise?" He spoke softly, his tone laden with vulnerability, and it took you a moment to understand what he meant. "Alex, I know you won't. I said yes for a reason." You hugged him, then cupped his face in your hands. He was emotional, and you found it painfully adorable. Sometimes, you forgot that someone like him also had room for insecurities. "I couldn't be more certain about that, babe. I promise you." He nodded, holding you tightly. Jamie tapped him on the shoulder to let him know they needed to go, and there was a brief moment when all of them slapped your back as if you were best mates, expressing their happiness about it. This transitioned from Alex's worried expression to joyful ones as he saw you blushing with anxiety over not knowing how to react. It was always like this, and they understood you and your way of being. You returned the blazer to him, but he refused. "You're going to sing without it?" you asked incredulously. "It's just for one day, it's fine," he replied as if it were nothing. You thought about insisting, but the truth was that the blazer was warm, and his scent was making you feel good, like a remedy of its own. So, you let yourself hold onto the fabric.

Watching him perform live was always cathartic. This time was no different. The girls joined you, and they didn't hold back from screaming along. You even forced yourself to do the same as much as you could and as far as it was possible. It was all so beautiful. Alex would glance at you now and then, wearing a pure and gentle smile that made you unable to believe your luck. Ah, and it was as if he was never sick, although his voice still sounded slightly stronger than usual, but that was even better. You wondered why you hadn't cried until now, but from the middle to the end, during your most favorite lyrics, as well as those you knew were Alex's favorites, like "Perfect Sense" itself, he started repeating your name amidst the lyrics, and that made you completely melt. Kate had filmed it, and you were eager to see Alex's mother's reaction when she watched the videos. The way Alex looked at you with each note and moment filled your heart in an inexplicable way. He made you understand that there were no limitations to how happy someone could feel. There was always room for a little more of that feeling, and having the certainty in his gaze and actions that it was mutual made you even more his. You could never have enough of him. Every moment spent with Alex felt like a treasure, and you cherished every second.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon@indierockgirrl@bloo-wisteria@bellaturner@cosmoschaotic@nikisfwn@andrews-lovr

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner fluff #alex turner x y/n #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner imagine

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bloomingflowersthings · 1 year

Note

Okay so here's my request!

Natasha was on a mission, and the guy she was fighting has mind control powers. Before the villain dies, he searches through Nats mind to see what she loves most, and ofc its R. He mind controls Nat to be unkind and mean to R for one full day. Nat is still herself inside, and is hearing herself say mean things and do mean things to R, and R is so confused and sad, and Nat feels so horrible and guilty. Maybe to make it sadder R is sick with a cold or something 😭 The next morning R is prepared for mean words but Nat apologizes over and over and explains. Insert fluffy happy ending 🤭 thanks for your time!

Sick of your attitude- part one

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x sick! reader

Author’s note:This ask spent sooo many time in my askbox!! As soon as I read this idea, I had the whole story planned in my head but I couldn’t get the words out :’) hope you like it!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Dealing with Hydra facilities was never a easy task, but this mission had just been absurd. Natasha had to gather some intel from an abandoned laboratory, but she didn’t expect to encounter an enhanced scientist still working there. The man looked inoffensive, but he had mind controlling powers, so the widow had a really hard time fighting against him. She managed to defeat him, but before dying, he casted a mind controlling spell that would make the redhead be mean to the person who she loved the most for one full day. Unfortunately that person was you.

While piloting the quinjet, Natasha could only think about finally getting home, so she could see you.

ugh, she’s gonna be so needy…

Wait, what? no, she missed you and she wanted to cuddle you all day! where did this came from?

“I must be tired.” Nat mumbled to herself, trying to make sense of her thoughts.

Sighing to herself, she put the jet in autopilot, so she could maybe relax a little.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You could hear some persistent knocking on your door, however, your fever riddled body couldn’t move and your hazy state didn’t allow you to call for help.

Yesterday you woke up feeling weird, but you pushed through it, since Nat was the piles of paperwork wouldn’t get done by themselves.

That was a very poor decision, you ended up the day laying down on the couch with a raging fever. At least Wanda tried to help you the best that she could, given the fact that you had always been stubborn about showing weakness in front of people.

“Y/N? can I come in?” Wanda asked. She woke up with the news that Natasha was coming home today, so she went to your room to check on how you’re doing and to cheer you up with the good news.

“Hmm.” You whimpered, as much as you wanted to tell her to come in, your sore throat only allowed to weakly hum.

Hearing your quiet whimpers and loud thoughts, the witch entered the room.

It was dark, your curtains were drawn and the TV was the only source of light and background noise. You were right in the middle of the bed, buried under layers of blankets, but somehow still shivering. Your chest made a wheezing sound whenever you breathed and you just looked miserable.

“Poor thing, I came over to see if you were feeling any better but I already know the answer.” She cooed, sitting crisscrossed besides you on the bed.

“hheh'tsh! Hu’tshhiew!” You sneezed on the crook of your arm, coughing slightly afterwards. The action was enough for Wanda to notice how congested you sounded.

“I really don’t like the sound of that.” Wanda said, bringing her hand to your forehead, frowning at the heat emanating from you.

You just nodded, whimpering when chills came over you.

“Do you know who’s coming home today?” She asked, running her hands through your hair.

“Nat’s coming home?” You asked suddenly, the action sending you in a fit of coughs.

“Shh… breathe, yes she’s on her way back now. What about you take a shower so we can get some medicine on you? I can make you some breakfast.”

“Thank you so much Wands, but I really don’t want to be a bother, I’m fine, really” You said, trying to untangle yourself from the blankets.

“You could never be a bother silly, and you know how much I love to cook, now go ahead and I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” Wanda said, making her way to the door.

You took your time getting out of bed and stretching your heavy limbs. It felt like you had been hit by Mjölnir

You took a warm shower, washing and untangling your hair. You wanted to look at least presentable for your girlfriend and were hoping that it would help you feel more refreshed.

Shivering as you got dressed, you cringed at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you were clean but the paleness was obvious on your skin and it made contrast with your flushed cheeks, there were bags under your eyes and you just looked sick.

You slipped one of Nat’s hoodies and made your way to the compound kitchen.

“Hey! are you feeling any better?” Wanda asked, fixing herself some coffee.

“Yep, breakfast is looking good! thank you Wands.” In reality you weren’t feeling better at all, but you didn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it, so you were trying to follow your routine normally.

“Don’t mention it!”

You both sat down in a comfortable silence and ate your breakfast. Until Wanda got up to train.

“Just take it easy, ok?”

“I will, thank you for everything.” You answered.

You decided to sit down on the couch and watch some netflix until Nat arrived.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stepping out of the quinjet, Natasha was relieved to finally be home. However she didn’t failed to notice that you weren’t waiting for her.

As she entered the compound, Wanda greeted her.

“Welcome back Nat, are you ready for another mission?” She asked jokingly.

“Don’t even joke about it, I’m exhausted.” She chuckled.

“That’s fair, you deserve some rest.”

“Have you seen Y/N?”

“She’s in the living room, she’s not feeling well since yesterday.” Wanda said.

“Don’t pay any attention, it’s probably all just dramatics.” Natasha stated bluntly, mentally kicking herself. What was wrong with her?

Wanda looked shocked. He never saw the widow being cold towards you. Even when you two were fighting, she would still be kind to you. However she decided not to push it, she could feel Nat’s mind going loud and dense, however her thoughts were muffled, almost if they were blocked.

“Okay then… go to sleep Nat, you need it.” He said, giving her a side hug.

She was too perplexed to say anything, so she just made her way to the elevator.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Miss Y/N, Miss Romanoff just entered the compound, you asked me to alert you when she was back.” FRIDAY said, pulling you out of your light slumber.

You rushed to the door to greet her just as she entered the living room, and hugged her tightly.

“Hi love, I missed you” You said, not failing to notice that she wasn’t hugging you back. stepping out of her embrace, she looked coldly at you.

“You look like shit, Y/N.” Nat stated, walking towards the couch.

“Umm… yeah, that’s because I’m a little sick, but don’t worry, Wan-“

“Can you just shut up for a second? I just got home from a rough mission and you’re complaining about being sick.” She snapped, her heart aching with every insult she made towards you.

“Sorry, I know you’re tired Natty, I’m gonna be quiet.” You stammered, holding back tears.

Seeing how miserable you were made Natasha’s heart sink. You were sick and missing her and she was being a little bitch to you. But no matter how hard the widow tried, whenever she opened her mouth she’d say horrible things. So she decided to just sit with you in silence.

She tried to lay her head on your shoulder but you pulled away from her with a heartbroken look. “Don’t touch me.”

Nat went white at your request, realizing how much she was hurting you, she couldn’t understand what was going on. However, the anger that wasn’t her’s wanted to make itself known, and the redhead spoke up again:

“Do you really need to be a dramatic bitch? This is the last thing I want to be doing in my time and you know it.”

The look in your eyes turned from sadness to bitterness, prompting you to stand up for yourself.

“Look Nat, if I’m bothering you that much I guess I’ll just leave!” You managed to say before choking in a round of painful sounding coughs.

“Oh please, look at you! You can’t even take care of yourself! it’s ridiculous.”

You glared at her like you never did before while standing up:

“You know what, Romanoff? I don’t need you to nurse me, Im perfectly fine!! Actually, I was better when you weren’t home.”

You said as you exited the room, leaving Natasha heartbroken by her own attitudes.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You’d spent the rest of the afternoon in one of the compound’s guest bedrooms, mostly crying. You were all emotional and most definitely running a fever, you just wanted to run away from everything but the exhaustion in your body wouldn’t let you.

Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by FRIDAYS voice:

“Miss L/N, I must remind that you have a meeting in half an hour, however you seem to be in distress. Do you need any help?”

“No thanks, I’ll be alright.”

As much as you wanted to ditch the meeting, it had been scheduled a week ago, and you didn’t wanted Nat to think that you were being dramatic, so you dragged yourself out of bed to try and look presentable.

Of course crying gave you puffy eyes and aggravated the redness around your nose, and the flush on your fevered cheeks had darkened. Not having time (or energy) to put on makeup, you decided to just wash your face and quickly braiding your hair. You got changed in a T-shirt, a thick hoodie and some joggers, Hoping that it would end soon ao you could go back in your PJs.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You got to the meeting room right in time, but everyone was already there. The team noticed your lack of enthusiasm and decided not to push it, especially when you sat the farthest away from your girlfriend.

Natasha had a worried look on her face, you looked much worse than before and it was her fault. As much as she wanted to hold you and nurse you back to health, she knew that you were still hurt by her previous actions, so she gave you space.

As everybody settled down, Steve started the meeting. Everything was going fairly smoothly, just with some sneezes interrupting you, but your breath got caught in your throat, and it send you in an awful coughing fit. Wanda was sitting besides you and started rubbing your back, while the rest of the avengers glanced worryingly at you.

As much as Natasha tried to hold back her tongue, the words slipped out of her mouth:

“Would you stop it? I know you’re faking it.”

The conference room went silent and everyone looked shocked, until Steve sternly:

“Natasha, respect is essential if we’re working as a team. Tell Y/N you’re sorry or just leave the meeting.”

You went tense with the glare the redhead sent to you, even though she looked annoyed by the situation (in reality, she was annoyed with herself), there was an apologetic look in her eyes.

She wanted to apologize. But the mental block was too strong, so instead of risking saying anything else, she got up and left.

“M’ sorry guys…” You said, feeling bad for causing all of this.

“You don’t need to apologize for feeling unwell, but perhaps you should go to bed and sleep off this bug.” Steve said.

So you got up and made your way to the guest room, shivering the whole way there.

You grabbed more blankets and buried yourself under them, wanting to sleep your problems away.

#angst #whump #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #sickfic #natasha romanoff #sick reader

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chestcongestion · 2 months

Text

Demon-to-Demon Ch.1/5 : Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion, some mess

Word count: 3,763

I have no self control and wanted to smack a bunch of my favorite characters with the sick stick at once, so here's chapter 1 of my self-indulgent large-scale contagion fic, enjoy!

@onetrickponi Since I promised I'd tag when it was finished ^^

Alastor knew good and well that the day’s meeting would be trouble when he heard the audible strain in Ms. Carmine’s voice when she pointedly cleared her throat to get the other overlords’ attention.

There was a grating, almost painful-sounding quality to it that made Alastor’s ears twitch, it reminded him of the hoarse undertones one would normally hear from a seasoned smoker.

The group of chattering overlords fell silent, turning their gaze toward Carmilla and awaiting the start of the meeting.

“I just-” Carmilla paused, shutting her eyes and clearing her throat a second time, “-just wanted to apologize in advance for my voice. I’ve been fighting a sore throat since yesterday.”

“You’re losing,” Velvette laughed from the opposite end of the table, rotating in her office chair and scrolling through her phone, her smug smile showing off her pearly white fangs, fangs made brighter when contrasted against her shimmering black lipstick.

“I am aware, but thank you for that keen, mature observation, Velvette,” Carmilla spat back, swallowing and trying not to wince before blowing a tendril of her hair out of her face.

“You’re very welcome,” Velvette replied, twirling a strand of her hair around her index finger.

Alastor flashed Rosie a knowing look with lowered eyelids, before redirecting his attention to Carmilla.

“We are meeting today to discuss the recent ‘smog’ problem, there appears to be a red mist lingering in the air in the Doomsday district, and it is approaching the district borders,” Carmilla announced, “Zillia?”

“Uhm… nobody seems bothered by it, to be honest, but I can’t figure out where the hell it came from, it just appeared, and it isn’t goin’ away either,” Zillia explained, “Nobody’s complained about having trouble breathin’... or seein’ really, it’s just kinda weird.”

“So there’s just a blanket of red mist hangin’ in the air, but it isn’t causing any trouble?” Rosie inquired, raising an eyebrow, “Nothin’ at all?”

“Nope! It even smells nice,” Zillia replied, resting her head in her palm.

“It does, I was visiting the district the other day and its fragrance is oddly pleasant…like freshly-picked flowers,” Carmilla said with a wistful sigh, wincing through another dry swallow only to smile when Odette handed her a glass of water, which she eagerly finished in three gulps.

“So we’re here to talk about a non-problem?” Velvette asked, not even bothering to look up from her phone.

“ ‘Twould be a wise decision for thou to refrain from such idle chatter whilst the adults are speaking,” Zestial hissed from his seat, staring at Velvette with unblinking eyes.

Velvette complied, returning Zestial’s jab with a raised middle finger and a well-researched bite to the thumb.

Zestial held back a gasp, “Insolent girl,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Dusty fuckhead,”

“Senseless wretch…”

“Spindly geezer,”

“Overgrown infant!”

“Senile shitstain!”

Zestial and Velvette’s escalating squabble quickly died down, both turning to glance at Carmilla, who had two of her large fingers pinching the theoretical bridge of her nose, an area that had quickly flushed an irritated pink. She sniffled twice, before holding both hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to silence a hoarse, rough-sounding cough.

A minute passed, and Carmilla fought every bone in her body to keep from flushing with embarrassment.

“Carmilla?” Zestial inquired, only to receive an anxious glance in return.

Velvette snickered, sliding a travel-sized package of tissues across the table and leaning back in her chair, “Have at it, old bird, sounds like you need one.”

“Th-thank you,” Carmilla replied, her consonants sounding noticeably muffled as she picked a tissue from the package and held it up to her face, noisily blowing her “nose” until she had to pause to take a deep breath, “Excuse me…”

Alastor’s ear twitched, and he nervously drummed his fingertips against the table, shooting Rosie another knowing look, practically blinking at her in morse code.

“What’s eatin’ you?” Rosie whispered, “Quit battin’ your eyelashes at me and spill.”

“We should leave,” Alastor whispered back through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Rosie inquired, only to be interrupted by Carmilla loudly blowing her nose a second time, soaking another tissue and closing with a loud honk, which made Rosie giggle.

“Unless you want that to be you, I suggest we make our exit,” Alastor whispered, his eyes looking desperate and frightful in spite of his wide grin.

“Oh hush, don’t be so dramatic,” Rosie argued, playfully tugging at one of Alastor’s ears.

“Uch… Clara, what else were we supposed to discuss? I’ve lost my train of thought,” Carmilla asked, the center of her face and the underside of her eyes looking pinkish-red and puffy from the irritation.

“There’s nothing else on the agenda, Mom,” Clara said in a hushed voice, showing her mother the empty clipboard.

“Oh for the love of-” Carmilla groaned, massaging her temples with her large fingers, “This is…ih… i-ih…”

Alastor’s stomach dropped, he knew that sound, that sound may as well be the click of a pin being yanked from a grenade, the beeping of a volatile time bomb, the-

“Ih’ktshhhiew! Ih’tshhew! Ih’ktschiew! IH’KSHHHUH!”

A dense cloud of infectious droplets sprayed into the open air through a wide gap in Carmilla’s fingers, stretching across the entire table, if not the room.

Alastor’s mind flashed with images of ailing neighbors and frazzled doctors, of boarded-up storefronts and oxygen-starved soldiers lying on tarps in the grass. It was a rough two years… a rough three, frankly.

“Alastor, snap out of it,” Rosie whispered, gently tapping on the back of Alastor’s head.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied, trying and failing to tune out Carmilla’s sniffling in the background as he thought about scrubbing himself down with lye and dunking himself in a tub of boiling water.

“Ih’tschhhiew! Hnk’tchew!... My apologies, I just- Ih’ktschhiew!- I didn’t think this would happen,” Carmilla said, her voice hoarse and exhausted as she wiped the watery underside of her eyes with her thumb.

“Gesundheit! Don’t sweat it, sweetie, but I think you should get some rest,” Rosie said, managing a knowing smile at Carmilla, who weakly smiled back.

“I think so too… meeting adjourned- Hi-iih…HIH’TSCHHIEW!- ‘Scuse me…” Carmilla announced, loudly blowing her nose as she turned to exit the room with her daughters.

Alastor hurriedly gestured at the door, begging Rosie to follow him, not wanting to breathe in the poisoned air of the meeting room for a second longer.

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming, calm down,” Rosie chuckled, grabbing hold of her umbrella and following Alastor outside, “Goodness, a few sneezes and you turn into a maniac!”

“Apologies, when you spend a year working as a volunteer ambulance driver in 1919, you learn not to be quite so relaxed when there’s germ-riddled moisture all over your face,” Alastor rambled, feeling a chill run up his spine at the damp fur on his ears, “E u ch!”

Rosie rolled her eyes, “Go home and wash your ears, silly, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said with a nonchalant grin, twirling her umbrella in her hand as she headed back to Cannibal Town.

Alastor sighed, vanishing into his shadow and resigning himself to heading back home. He needed to take a bath in some turpentine and light his clothes on fire, knock back a few bottles of rubbing alcohol, anything to keep whatever Carmilla sprayed across the meeting room out of his body.

Hours later, Husk jumped out of his skin when his “keeper” appeared out of his own shadowy mist in front of the bar, grumbling to himself with an iron grip on his microphone.

“You’re just too fuckin’ good to walk anywhere, huh? Poofin’ out of the shadows is just too easy… whadda you want?” Husk asked, cleaning a beer mug while he awaited Alastor’s response.

“I need a shot of whatever you use to clean off the counter,”

Husk blinked.

“I’m sorry… what? Not that you can’t handle your liquor… but I don’t think I’d trust you with anything’ harder than a couple whiskey neats,”

“Hand me the bottle,” Alastor muttered through clenched teeth, twisting the safety nozzle of the spray bottle of disinfectant that Husk kept behind the bar. He spritzed both of his eyes before liberally spraying the back of his throat, knocking back the residue with a harsh swallow before sliding the spray bottle back in Husk’s direction.

“... The hell is wrong with you?” Husk asked.

“Absolutely nothing, nothing I’d concern myself with telling you, anyways,” Alastor replied with narrowed eyelids.

“Well then… suppose I’ll have to keep lemon disinfectant around for the next time you’re feelin’ adventurous,”

Husk’s little comment and the laughter that followed irritated Alastor, and the radio demon considered beaning the cat in the back of the head with his microphone, only to be wrenched out of his thoughts by a sudden itch in his sinuses, forcing him to raise the back of his hand under his nose.

‘Come on Alastor, you’re better than this, fight it, fight it, fight it-’

“Hnk! Hnk’tshh! Hhk’tshh!”

Husk’s ear twitched, and his face stretched into a knowing smile as he zeroed his focus on Alastor’s nose, “You know-”

“Shush,”

“I don’t think I’ve ever-”

“Quiet.”

“Ever-”

“Husk,” Alastor hissed, preparing his arm to reach for Husk’s throat, only to be stopped in his tracks by his itchy nose, “H-hihh…Huhh…h-huh..”

“Heard you sneeze,” Husk whispered, knowing that he’d caught Alastor off guard, “Until now, anyways.”

“Hu’hktschoo! Huh’ptshhhoo! Hnk’TSCHOO!... Huh….HUH’PTSchhiEWWW!”

Husk grinned as he watched Alastor blearily pat around on his person for a pristine red handkerchief that was tucked into his front pocket, pulling it out and pinching it around his nostrils before letting out a dense, gurgling blow.

“I take it that is what the disinfectant was supposed to prevent,” Husk laughed, “Whatever it is you managed to catch, it sounds nasty…shit.”

“I could kill you with my bare hands,” Alastor hissed, pantomiming the act of strangling Husk, only to be caught unawares by another itch, “HNK’TSsschHIEWW! Hnk’Tschhiiew!”

“I’m aware, but maybe put it off a few days, I’d rather not have snot on my corpse’s face,” Husk teased.

“You are a mbiserable drunkard, and I hate you- Snff!- I really do,” Alastor replied, blowing his nose a second time and struggling not to scowl at how damp his handkerchief was beginning to feel underneath his fingers. “Right back atcha,” Husk said, poking Alastor’s nose with a sly grin, watching his boss’s nose twitch helplessly. “Nghh…Gh-hhuh…H-Huhh- HNK’TSCHOO! H-uh’tzZZShhOO! Huh’ktSCHEW! H-huh’TSCHOO! Hnk’TschhhiEW!” Alastor sneezed, only able to hold his hands loosely in front of his face, paralyzed by the fit.

Husk winced, wiping off his face and wiping down the bar counter, “Fuckin’ hell, remind me to drink the rest of that disinfectant when I’m done cleanin’ this up, might be too late for you but I like breathin’ through my nose,” he grumbled.

“Snff-snff! Uch… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this… slimy or disorganized in mby entire life- Snfff!” Alastor said, blowing his nose again and trying not to think about how loose and wet it sounded, “I have no idea where all of it is even coming from.”

“Well, make yourself scarce, I’m not trying to find out,” Husk replied, pausing and turning to the front door of the hotel upon hearing it swing open, “Welcome back, Princess.”

“Hii, I’m so excited for some quality bonding time now that Cherri is staying with us! I haven’t been able to just relax and watch a movie in years,” Charlie said with a smile as Vaggie snuck behind her to head upstairs, “Is Angel back yet?”

“Nah, he’s still at work, but he said he’d try and make it here in time,” Husk stated, checking his phone to see if Angel had texted him anything new, “How’d the recruitment effort go?”

“Uhm, better! Some people seemed interested and actually kept the pamphlets I gave them, but a lot of people said they didn’t wanna touch my hand or get too close because they weren’t feeling well… which was surprisingly considerate for a huge group of sinners,” Charlie explained, rambling as she leaned against the back of the sofa in the parlor, “Half the people I spoke to either mentioned they thought they were sick or they looked sick… I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many sick people in one day.”

“Really?” Husk asked with a knowing smirk, “Somethin’ must be going around…”

“I guess so, yeah,” Charlie replied, “Alastor! How was the overlord meeting?”

“Oh it was alright- snff- a bit shorter than expected. Don’t think I came away with anything of note,” Alastor responded, holding his damp handkerchief behind his back and wrestling with the urge to rub his nose. It was so itchy.

“I can think of something… ” Husk muttered playfully, seemingly unbothered when Alastor whipped his head around to stare daggers at him.

“Has everyone thought about what movie they’re gonna suggest for movie night tonight?” Charlie asked, grinning and bouncing on her heels, “Because I have, and I’m so excited!”

“Ooo! I did! I did! I’m so excited, I haven’t been able to see it since I was alive!” Nifty exclaimed, dropping from the ceiling onto Alastor’s shoulders, clutching a feather duster. She was so preoccupied with thinking about which movie she’d picked, she didn’t notice her feather duster brushing against Alastor’s nose.

“HUH’PTSHOO! Huh’ptschiew! Hhn’ktshew! HHN’KTSHIIEW! Huh’PTSHHIEW!.... Oh mby goodness…snf-snf!...Ndiffty…” Alastor groaned, wetly blowing his nose and trying to avoid Charlie’s concerned gaze, “Don’t look at mbe like that.”

“Sorry- not looking, not looking,” Charlie replied sheepishly, averting her gaze from Alastor by staring at the carpet, “That just sounded… uhm… a teeny tiny bit-”

“Gross!” Vaggie called from upstairs, “The word she’s looking for is ‘gross’!”

Husk flopped onto his back behind the bar, struggling to contain his laughter.

“I was going to say ‘wet’... but I guess that works too,” Charlie said, shooting Alastor a nervous glance, “You feeling okay?”

Alastor narrows his eyelids, his grin still stretched across his face in spite of his angry eyebrows and puffy, miserable-looking eyelids to match his irritated and streaming nose, “Would you believe mbe if I said yes?” he asked knowingly.

“Not really, no, you sound awful,” Charlie admitted, quietly gesturing for Alastor to lean down, reaching out a hand and pressing her palm to the Radio Demon’s forehead when he reluctantly complied, “You feel warm, too. You probably just caught whatever’s going around, don’t worry!”

“I’ll try mby best not to,” Alastor replied, blowing his nose again and wincing at how wet the fabric was getting, “Snff-snff! Pardon me…”

Charlie looked at the sniffling overlord with concern, before getting back her typical kind smile, “You should take a hot shower and change into something more comfortable if you’re sick! By the time all of us get ready, Angel and Cherri will probably be back, and we can pick the movie for tonight!”

Alastor considered arguing, considered vanishing into a puff of shadowy smoke and reappearing in Cannibal Town to crash with Rosie, considered sprinting out the door and going into hiding… but he’d been found out, and all of the sneezing he’d been doing was definitely catching up to him, he was exhausted.

“Alright, I’ll be back down,” Alastor said with a nod, vanishing upstairs, but not before catching a sharp “Hnk-Tchoo!” with his handkerchief.

“I’m gonna go get ready, too,” Charlie said, turning to Husk, “You coming?”

“Nah, Angel just texted me on his break, I’m gonna ask him how the shoot’s going for a little while, I’ll catch up,” Husk replied, leaning against the bar counter and tapping slowly at his phone, shooting Angel a message and waiting patiently for a reply.

[Don’t forget about tonight… almost done filming?]

On the opposite side of Pentagram City, Angel stared at his phone, attempting to think of a response, only to peek over at his boss from the other side of the cameras.

Valentino was working through a plot hole that Travis left in the script- while lecturing Travis about it- and it was taking longer than expected. While they spoke, Valentino was also busy moisturizing and straightening Velvette’s hair to get her ready for an auction she was heading to that night.

Velvette typically had her assistants help with her hair, but she wandered downstairs to the porn studio because she had a headache and the vibrant lighting in her studio was making things worse.

Angel stared at the pair of overlords in silence while he tugged his underwear back on and tidied up his fluff with a hairbrush.

“Y’know what? Fuck it, nobody’s gonna notice the inconsistency anyways, if they’re watching porn for the plot, they’re doing it wrong,” Valentino conceded, rolling his eyes at Travis and taking a deep drag from his cigarette, smiling at the hit of nicotine before blowing out a large heart-shaped plume of smoke, his smile fading when he heard Velvette start to cough from her position in front of his legs, “Oh shit, sorry pequeñita, I forgot you hate the smell of these.”

Valentino took a second puff, blowing his next plume of smoke at the ceiling, only to stop upon hearing Velvette’s cough again: a persistent, hacking cough that forced Velvette to draw deep breaths in between bursts. Ashing his cigarette, Valentino used one of his hands to pat Velvette on the back.

“Fuck, Vel, you good?” Valentino asked, his attempts to help dislodge what he assumed was just something stuck in his colleague’s windpipe getting more intense.

“S-stop it,” Velvette wheezed, tucking her head into her knees and letting out a heavy barking cough that made her entire body vibrate, but seemed to alleviate the ticklish feeling in her throat, “Fuck…”

“That was a rough ass cough,” Valentino said, running his fingers through Velvette’s freshly-straightened locks and wincing at the searing heat he felt upon touching the side of her head, “-Shit, Vel, why didn’t you tell me I burned you?”

“You-” Velvette clenched her teeth to smother another coughing fit, “- you didn’t burn me…” she replied.

“You sure? It feels so hot right here, I just thought…wait a second…” Valentino paused, pulling off one of his gloves and pressing his bare palm against Velvette’s forehead, “Yeah… tienes fiebre, I think the auction is gonna have to wait for another time… how do you feel?”

“My head hurts, my throat hurts, I’m tired, and every time I breathe I feel like I need to cough,” Velvette complained, leaning back against Valentino’s legs, “This is horseshit…Hh’tshh! Hhn’tshh! Hnk’tshh!”

Valentino frowned, running his fingers through Velvette’s hair, “Okay people, that’s a wrap for tonight, see you tomorrow!” he announced, clapping to dismiss the film staff and the actors before gathering Velvette in his arms and turning on his heel to leave the studio, “Let’s get you something hot to drink and some comfy clothes, hm?”

“Put mbe down… Hnk’tshh!... I’b a grown woman,” Velvette hissed, pushing away from Valentino’s chest, only to lean against his shoulder after only a few seconds of protest, “Actually, nevermind…snff!... I’b too tired to walk. Fuck it.”

“Mmmhm, that’s why I picked you up,” Valentino teased as he walked, eventually vanishing down the hall and leaving Angel in the studio alone.

“Hell yes,” Angel cheered, hurrying to put on the rest of his clothes and texting Husk that he’d be home earlier than expected.

A couple of hours later, the group was gathered together on the sofa in the parlor, all cozied up in their pajamas.

Charlie and Vaggie reclined against one another, Angel stretched out across Husk’s lap, Niffty was seated in front of the sofa on the carpet, Cherri was sat in the armchair on the right side of the sofa, and Alastor was reclined in the armchair on the left.

“So, who gets to pick tonight’s movie?” Angel asked, petting Husk between his ears, listening to his partner’s satisfied purring.

“We drew straws, and Niffty won, so we’re watching…” Charlie began, turning to Niffty to wait for her selection.

“Singin’ in the Rain!” Niffty cheered, clapping her hands quietly, “It’s one of the last films I saw before I died!”

Charlie nodded, pressing play on the chunky CRT television in the parlor, and leaning against Vaggie as the film began to play.

Alastor blew his nose into his handkerchief, glaring at the wet fabric and conjuring himself a dry one out of thin air, moving to put it away before feeling a familiar building itch.

“Hnk’TSHH-iew! HNK’TShhiew! HNK’Tshh-iew! HNK’Zzzt!”

Charlie peeked over from her spot on the sofa, mouthing ‘Bless you’ at Alastor before returning her attention to the movie.

Alastor returned the gesture with a quiet nod, straining to avoid rolling his eyes at the idea of letting himself be so… vulnerable around these people. The Radio Demon silently thanked his lucky stars that Lucifer was on a brief whirlwind tour through the rest of Hell to get back in touch with the other sins, meaning that he wouldn’t be around to bear witness to Alastor’s embarrassing misery.

“HNK’Tshh! Hh’kzzhht! Hh’Kshoo!”

Alastor shivered, leaning back in his armchair and attempting to focus on the movie to take his mind off of the throbbing sensation in the back of his throat, or the incessant tickle in his sinuses. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why he suddenly felt so cold.

Lost in his thoughts, Alastor barely noticed it when something warm and soft was draped over his shoulders, and a bundle of warmth gathered in his lap. Upon regaining focus, Alastor noticed that someone had draped a blanket over him, leaving his arms free, and that KeeKee was curled up in his lap, purring softly.

Resigned to his fate, Alastor simply began stroking KeeKee’s back, the soft static in the background of the film and the cat’s blissful purring beginning to make him drowsy.

“Ooo! This is my favorite part! Alastor, look, this is the actor I said you looked like when we met!” Niffty whispered, eagerly tugging on Alastor’s pant leg to get his attention, only to be met with silence, “Alastor?”

Niffty looked up only to see Alastor relaxed and fast asleep, his back pressed against the armchair and his usual grin reduced to a soft, toothless smile. Congestion rumbled in his sinuses as he snored, his nose twitching every so often to fight the constant tickle threatening to disturb his slumber by making him sneeze.

“I’ll show him later,” Niffty whispered, hugging Alastor’s ankles and going back to watching the movie, “Maybe he’ll feel better tomorrow…”

#snz #snz fic #snz kink #illness kink #ha/zb/in ho/tel #gingey.rtf

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purenullity · 2 months

Text

puppy play time <3

Yesterday, I took myself on a puppy walk in which it was so windy that I got to bite the wind! However, it ended up being much longer than I expected it to be. I just kept walking and got tired around 5 miles, without realizing that I had to walk 5 miles back. I ended up with blisters on my feet and face burnt. I’m oh so sore today!!!

Since my body was weak, Sir was very gentle with me. He had somewhere to go so we had to either finish up at a certain time or wait until he got back. Even though he was desperate enough to say,

“I wanna fuck you now”.

When he told me that, butterflies flooded my stomach. My puppycunt was already achy and wet, but he made me suck his cock in which I ended up soaked and dripping. He always tastes so good on my tongue, and I made sure to slobber all over him like a good boy.

I was already being so loud, so he had me put my bone gag on and fucked me oh so deep. When I came around his cock, he had me taste my own cum by licking him again. As I was cleaning him up with my tongue, he begged to taste me, telling me how he wanted his tongue inside me and wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. I talked Sir through his orgasm telling him how I wanted to feel his cum warm my throat, how much I love him and how all my holes are his to use whenever and however he wants. And as always,

“of course I’m your puppy slut” *^*

@droolypupboy <3

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

SATURN — modern!steve has a crush on librarian!reader so he keeps checking out books that he never reads just to talk to them and reader eventually calls him out on it

this is short and probably not exactly how you imagined it being but I tried!! however it’s such a good concept that I may or may not make a full length fic out of it. don’t @ me on that though … hope u like this gf!

summary: modern!steve has a crush on you, the library receptionist. fluff, pining steve, very short lol

gn!reader 600 words

You were pretty sure you were losing your marbles when you saw him for the fourth time that same week.

There he was again, looking very immersed in the books on the shelf of the History section, and standing out like a sore thumb. The only people who ever spent this long in the History section were men over 50. This boy, this tall, brunette, glasses-wearing boy, who you’d now seen every day for the past 3 days, was definitely not over 50.

You stared at him, squinted, tilted your head, tried to figure out whether you were seeing things or not. You wouldn’t be surprised — you were the type of person to be up in your head more often than not. Hence the library receptionist job.

Too late, you realised mystery boy was looking right back at you. Your face got hot fast. Your head snapped back to your computer, typing nonsense into the keyboard.

It was only when he cleared his throat that you realised he was standing right in front of your desk.

You looked up. He looked exceptionally handsome today, his long brown hair tucked behind his ears, a pair of round glasses sitting on his perfect freckled nose. Not that he hadn’t looked pretty every time you saw him, but today his grin was blinding. You swallowed.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “Um, hi. Are you … borrowing that?”

You pointed at this book in his hand. He looked down at it like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

“Oh. Yeah, this,” he said, like it was an afterthought. An afterthought of what, you didn’t know. He grinned, then slid the book over the desk to you. “Mhm, I’d like to borrow it, please.”

You went to grab the book and had to do a double take.

“This is … the same book you got out yesterday,” you said slowly, half convinced he was trying to mess with you.

“It is?” He squinted at the book for a second and then his eyes widened. You thought you saw a blush creeping up his neck. “It is! Oh shit, I’m stupid.”

Mystery boy smacked his own forehead and groaned, then fell into embarrassed laughter. His hand dragged down his face and made his glasses go lopsided. You couldn’t help but laugh too, his smile was dazzling and contagious.

“Did you even read the cover?” You asked, amusement at the situation overshadowing your nervous nature. “No, wait. Did you even read the one you got yesterday?”

His laughter died down though the redness in his cheeks didn’t.

“Well, no.” He cringed at himself, looking one part embarrassed and two parts charming. “Listen, I’m Steve. To tell you the truth, I haven’t read any of the books I got out. I just wanted to talk to you again.”

You flushed from head to foot.

Steve ignored your embarrassment chivalrously. “You’re pretty … for a library receptionist,” he said with a cheeky grin and an awfully exaggerated wink.

You blinked, cheeks blazing. Your tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of your mouth, thanks to his compliment. You stumbled for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, y’know … library receptionists are usually old ladies.” He wrinkled his nose, and, at your giggling, grinned beautifully. His eyes were bright when he asked, “What’s your name?”

Your tongue unstuck long enough for you to tell him your name. He beamed when you did, the movement in his cheeks shifting his glasses slightly, and stuck his hand out over the desk. You took it, his hand warm and big and calloused.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said jovially. You liked the way he said your name. You felt almost privileged to hear it coming from his pretty, grinning mouth.

“Nice to meet you too, Steve.” You smiled back shyly as he let go of your hand, your skin hot where he’d touched you. “Do you … do you maybe want me to give you some actually good book recommendations?”

Steve laughed, much too loud for a library but you didn’t have the heart to tell him off.

#★ mal writes!#ღ stevie #✿ 300 celebration!#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #modern!steve #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve harrington x reader #✉️#stevesmixtape!

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gt-jar · 1 month

Text

Two Worlds among the Stars

7. CHAPTER

<- previous | next ->

Word count: 4.125

The next time Noah woke up everything hurt. His entire body was aching. He was hoping it was just the consequence of his escape attempt yesterday, but his throat was just as sore as his muscles, and his head felt like he had run straight into a brick wall. There was no denying it, he was sick.

Great, that's exactly what he needed right now.

He lifted his head from his knees, only now noticing how stiff his neck was. Sleeping the entire night in a sitting position on a wooden table was definitely not one of his best ideas. But Noah was nothing, if not stubborn. And he had gotten his message across last night, so it was worth it. Maybe it finally went through the man's thick skull that he could shove his hypocrisy somewhere else. Speaking of which, where was that guy?

One look around showed that the giant wasn't sleeping in his bed anymore, Noah couldn't hear him either, which meant he wasn't nearby.

Just like that his morning felt a tiny bit less horrible.

Hopefully he would be gone for a while, Noah certainly wasn't in the mood for any talking, and with how great things were going for him at the moment the man surely was going to say something like “deserves you right for running away” or “it's your own fault that you're sick now”.

Not that he would be wrong. Just thinking about yesterday sent shivers down his back. All things considered, he was pretty lucky that he got off lightly with just a cold. Things could have ended a lot worse. But the last thing he needed right now was a lecture. His head was killing him already and he would like to avoid making it worse.

Noah let his head drop on his knees and closed his eyes again, maybe his headache would lessen like this. The position may be extremely uncomfortable, and he sure as hell wasn't doing his neck a favor, but it wasn't like he had better options right now. With the giant gone he was stuck on the table after all.

He still very much preferred the current peace over getting to the pillow on the man's nightstand. At least that's what he told himself.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew was that he woke up to a snapping sound. Noah forced his eyes to open, and sure enough the giant was snapping his fingers in front of his face. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

“You okay, kid?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” Noah answered, his voice involuntary taking on a defensive tone. Sure, he felt even worse than before, but that didn't mean he wanted to rub it in the man's face. If Noah was smart about it, the man wouldn't even notice that he was sick. Miss Harris never did either.

John didn't look convinced though. But as long as he would drop the matter, Noah didn't really care. He didn't have to believe him, Noah just wanted him to stop bothering him. Just until he felt better. Was that really too much to ask for?

“If you say so,” the man said.

He still eyed him suspiciously, but took a seat, so Noah counted it as a win, “how about some breakfast then? I'm sure you're hungry.”

Just like yesterday he prepared a plate with bread and jelly for the teen, pushing it half way between them. Noah already knew what was coming next and gritted his teeth in frustration.

“If you can sit with me to fool me, you can do it today as well,” he tapped his finger beside the plate, prompting him to come closer, “And remember, I'm not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

Noah flexed his fingers, pretty much everything else felt sore. He braced his hands on the table, before pushing himself up. Just standing up made him dizzy, but he pushed through it. His legs felt so weak, like they had no bones in them to support his weight. He made his way over to the food, every step was exhausting him further. Noah just prayed that the man would leave him alone after this. Unfortunately, the spinning in his head only got worse, everything was starting to blurry. He had no control over his body and before he knew it he was falling towards the table.

Before he could hit the hard surface though, a pair of large hands caught him. His arms and legs were swinging and kicking, trying to find out where up and down was. He tensed when something cold touched his head. He realized that John's thumb was pressing against his forehead, and that's when he heard a hiss from above.

“When exactly were you going to tell me that you have a fever?” The man didn't sound too happy about the fact that Noah had tried to hide his sickness from him. Noah didn't understand why it was such a deal though.

“Why would I? It's just a fever. It's not like I haven't dealt with those on my own before. I can take care of myself.”

Noah swore the man looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

Good for him.

Instead he huffed, and pulled him close as he walked over to his bed. As Noah was cradled against John's chest he realized just how cold he was.

Damn fever.

The desire to lean into the warmth the man's body was providing was almost unbearable. That guy was basically a living furnace! Thankfully, before he could do something really stupid, he was placed on the pillow that served as his bed.

Then John placed the plate with his breakfast and a thimble filled with water beside him on the nightstand.

“Get some sleep while I'm gone, and please do me a favor and try to eat something. I'll be back soon” After that he walked out the cave, probably to “work” as he called it.

For once Noah was too weak to argue and lied back down. John finally left him alone. That's what he had wanted after all.

Right?

John ended his patrol earlier than usual. There was no need to drag this out, after the show he pulled off, John doubted there would be any trespassers any time soon. And besides, he wasn't truly focused on his work anyway. His thoughts were somewhere else, worry clouding his mind, distracting him. To go home was an easy decision, the kid's well being was more important than his patrol right now.

When he got home, Noah was fast asleep, his breathing shallow and uneven. His blanket had slipped down a little in his sleep, so John pinched the hem between his fingers and pulled it up to Noah's chin again, carefully tucking the blanket around his shoulders. From the looks of it, the kid hadn't touched his food. Nor the water.

This wasn't good.

Neither of them had eaten last night, which meant the kid had skipped two meals already. John may not know much about humans, but this couldn't be healthy. Noah was already awfully light, even for a human, barely weighing anything to him. He needed to eat. And even John knew that it was important to drink enough fluids, when you were running a fever.

Ever since the village incident, John kept messing up. First losing his temper, and now the kid was sick, which was partly his fault. As if their situation wasn't bad enough as it was already. He could have avoided this, if he just made sure that Noah had properly dried himself off last night, instead of giving him a lecture. That could have easily waited until the next morning. John sighed, there was no point in dwelling on things that couldn't be undone, he needed to focus on the important things. Right now the kid needed his help, no matter what he claimed. And John was determined not to mess things up this time.

But who was he kidding, how could he not mess this up? He had no idea how to take care of a sick child, let alone a human child! He himself rarely got sick. What was he supposed to do? What if he accidentally made it worse? Okay no, overthinking wouldn't help Noah. Right now the kid was sleeping, which was probably good. Rest was good. What else? Right, basic needs. Noah still needed to eat.

John tried to remember what his mom used to cook, when he and his sister were sick. She always made them something that was easy on the stomach and didn't require much chewing. So he started to make soup.

The moment he wanted to throw the cut vegetables in the pot, a coughing fit startled him.

When he looked over his shoulder, Noah was sitting up, his body hunched over and cramped up. Coughs rattling his entire body. This probably was more than just painful to watch. John walked over to his nightstand and kneeled down beside it. His intention was to rub Noah's back to help him through his coughing fit, but when his fingers as much as brushed his back, the kid recoiled from contact as if his fingers had burned him. The boy sent him the nastiest glare John had seen in all their time together. He put his hands up to show that he meant no harm. Not that it had worked the last times he had tried to convince the kid that there was no need to be afraid. But hey! At least the coughing had stopped.

“Would you drop the act already?!”

John, for the first time truly oblivious to what the kid meant, asked, “What act?”

“Don't play dumb with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Stop pretending to be so nice!”

“What makes you think I’m pretending to be nice?”

“Oh, let me think. First of all, you have been terrorizing my village for fucking ages. And did you forget that I saw how you acted back at my village? How you threatened us. And now you want me to believe that you're a good guy? I don't know what you're hoping to achieve with this, but it won't work. So stop it.”

Well, the kid had a point.

John debated his next words. If he wanted the kid to believe him, when he said he didn't need to be afraid, he had to tell him the truth. Hopefully he won't regret his decision later.

“Okay, you got me, I was pretending,” before Noah could say anything about being right, John continued, “but I'm not pretending right now. I'm gonna be honest with you, this whole… big bad giant thing, how I acted at your village, that was just an act.” Noah made no move to Interrupt him, which he took as a good sign.

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but you're a smart boy. You probably figured out already that I'm just a normal guy. Except for my size there is nothing really special about me. And you're old enough to know that I didn't just… poof into existence.

I’m not the only giant. I have family. Friends. There’re a lot of other giants out there. And all these tales about us, that humans spread over the years, they are just a scheme to scare you off. We’re not blood-thirsty monsters, but… we pretend that we are, because it's the only thing that keeps us safe from you-”

“Safe? From us? You're kidding, right? What on earth could someone my size possibly do to threaten a fucking giant?” Noah barked.

“Kid, where do you think I got these from?” He pointed at his scars, “One human may not be able to do much damage, but numbers can make a big difference. And humans, who think their lives are at risk, are not known for their great decision making. You experienced that first-hand.”

“I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I truly am. I wasn't thinking when I took you with me, but I had to play along. I'm just trying to protect my kind.” John said, hoping Noah would understand.

“I'm not asking you to trust me and I'm not trying to gain anything from this, but please let me help you, at least until you're feeling better. You're more than welcome to go back to hating me after that. Just-”

“Could you just leave me alone?” Noah grumbled, no longer looking at him.

John sighed and stood up. This went as well as expected. But he knew he wouldn't achieve anything by force. All he could do was give Noah the time and space he needed and hope for the best.

Not much later, the soup was ready. John took a spoon and tasted it. It was not as good as he remembered it, but it was pretty decent, if you asked him. His mom would be impressed.

He went back to his nightstand to get Noah, who was asleep once again. John couldn't help but frown. The kid looked even smaller, curled up under the blanket like this.

So fragile.

Like he could actually break, if John wasn't careful. Instead of waking him up or picking him up, he carefully slid his hands under the pillow and carried it with Noah on top over to the table, where his meal already waited for him. The poor kid wasn't even aware of it.

Now came the hard part.

John sat down and gently nudged Noah's shoulder with his knuckle. Noah stirred a little but didn't wake up.

“Time to wake up, kid,” he whispered and nudged the kid again.

Thankfully, the boy's baby blue eyes finally blinked open. They were all glazed over, a far cry from the sharp gaze the kid usually had. It made something inside John's chest squeeze.

“Hey, I made you soup,” John said in a hushed tone.

“Not hungry” Noah mumbled and wanted to roll over, but John couldn't let him do that.

“Hey, none of that, you need to eat, if you wanna get better.”

John slipped his hand under Noah's back and guided him into a sitting position. He didn't pull his hand away though, the man doubted that the boy had enough strength to sit up on his own, with the way he was leaning against his palm.

“Work with me here, kid. Just a few spoons and then you can go back to sleep,” John scooped up some broth with his other hand and brought the spoon to Noah's lips. But all Noah did was turn his head away. John wondered if the boy was just trying to be difficult or if it was really this bad.

“Noah, you need to eat. Please,” John subconsciously started to rub Noah's shoulder with his thumb.

“And then you'll leave me alone?” At this moment Noah looked so much younger than fifteen. With his bleary eyes and frail voice. If John hadn't been worried before, he definitely would be now.

“Yeah, promise.” John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. After another moment of hesitation, Noah finally opened his mouth.

“There we go,” John murmured, being visibly relieved about finally getting the kid to eat something. The process continued for a few minutes, with John whispering soft praises. He was able to feed Noah a few spoons, before the boy stopped to open his mouth, signaling that he had enough. He didn't eat much, but it was better than nothing. A few drops of broth dribbled down Noah's chin and John used the pad of his thumb to gently whip it away. The boy didn't even try to bat it away. At this point the poor kid could barely keep his eyes open.

John slowly lowered his hand down onto the pillow and pulled it out underneath Noah's back. As soon as his head hit the pillow the boy was out like a light again.

The man tucked him back in and let him sleep. Sleeping was probably the best for him right now. John debated on carrying the kid back to the nightstand, but decided against it. This way he could keep a better eye on the kid.

While Noah slept, John spent the rest of the day working on his newest little project, glancing over to where the human was laying from time to time. The piece of wood slowly but surely shaping into what he had in mind. Sure, he could be more productive, but John didn't have the heart to leave the sick child alone. He wanted to be nearby just in case he needed something, when he woke up.

He knew that it was very unlikely, but it was a possibility.

John had thought the silence would be a welcomed change, but it had the exact opposite effect. It filled him with dread. He would prefer it, if Noah kept insulting and glaring at him, if that meant the kid was feeling better. Seeing Noah being so still made him uneasy.

He glanced over again and saw that the kid was silently watching him, his eyes half-lidded, but awake nonetheless.

“Hey there, sleepy head. That cold took its toll on you, huh?” John looked at him with a sad smile.

“Been worse,” Noah said even though that was a complete and utter lie, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this awful.

He flinched when the man reached for him and placed his thumb on his forehead to feel his temperature again.

“Shh, I'm just checking.”

Maybe John was just imagining things, but to him it seemed like Noah was warmer than this morning. No wonder he was sleeping so much.

The man didn't pull his hand back right away. Instead he brushed his thumb over Noah's head a few times, almost tenderly stroking the hair out of his face. “See, everything is okay.”

Against Noah's will his eyes started to water, so he closed them. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched his head not to strike him. The gentle strokes felt so… good. Almost soothing his headache away. He could fall asleep like this.

But then the comforting touch was gone again.

Noah blamed his current state for wanting it back. How childish of him to even think such a thing. The fever was starting to mess with his head. Noah hoped this wouldn't last long.

“You can say it, y'know?” The boy rolled onto his back, so he didn't have to see John's face.

“Say what?”

“That it deserves me right for running away.” Noah just wanted to get this conversation out of the way.

There was a pause, then a sigh.

“Noah, believe it or not, but I don't enjoy seeing you like this. I really do want to help you. Here how about this, what would you usually do when you're sick?

“Working,” Noah answered dryly.

“You're kidding, right?” Noah's dead-pan expression told him otherwise.

“But didn't you say you're fifteen? I know I'm not a human expert, but I'm sure children aren't supposed to work.”

Noah scoffed at that.

“So? Money was always tight at the orphanage. And Miss Harris used to say, if I wasn't gonna be adopted, I could at least make myself useful.”

“Why would she say that?” The man asked quietly. Softly.

Noah let out a humorless laugh “Who would want a brat like me?” He almost wanted to turn his head to see the man's face, but decided it wasn't worth it. Then he added in a much softer voice, “And besides… I’m too old to be adopted anyway. People want the little kids, y’know the cute ones.” And with that he rolled over, signaling that their conversation was over.

Later that night, John was still sitting at the table, watching over Noah. Usually he went to bed relatively early, but worry kept him wide awake. His assumption had been correct. Noah's fever got worse. Through the day he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. Right now it seemed like he had settled in for the night, although it looked far from a peaceful slumber. The boy was curled up into a little ball and his brow was knitted in discomfort.

But that wasn't what had John worried.

In addition to the fever, Noah had started to have chills around noon, shivering under his blanket like a withered leaf in the wind, even after John had put more wood into the fire. It even seemed like the shivering just got worse the more time went by. John was running out of ideas. He couldn't just go to bed and leave the kid like this. Then an idea crossed his mind. Maybe it was stupid, but it couldn't hurt to try.

John gently rubbed Noah's shoulder to see if he would wake up. Luckily, the kid remained asleep. John took a breath and carefully scooped Noah up in his hand, who was not happy about being disturbed and the loss of his blanket. The kid started to stir, a quiet whimper escaping him. John quickly shushed him, silently praying that Noah wouldn't wake up. “Shh, I know, I know. Just sleep, everything is okay.” Thankfully that seemed to work and Noah settled down again. John just hoped it stayed that way, because there was no way the kid would let him do this if he was awake.

John placed the boy in the crook of his arm, if the fire wasn't working, maybe body heat would. Just when he pulled his hand away, Noah's face scrunched up. John wanted to kick himself for thinking this would work, an excuse already forming on his lips, but to John's surprise Noah didn't wake up.

No, quite the opposite actually. He rolled over, now facing John's torso, and curled up. John didn't dare to move. Or breath. He let a few moments pass to see if the kid really wasn't going to wake up. But even after several minutes Noah remained asleep.

This was… unexpected.

Unfortunately, the kid was still shivering. But maybe if he…? John knew he was pushing his luck, but still lowered his hand again, cupping it behind Noah's back, providing warmth from both sides. Absent-mindedly John started to stroke his thumb over Noah's back. Soon the shivering stopped and for the first time Noah's body seemed to relax, his troubled expression slowly melting away, and turning into something softer, still not fully relaxed but much more at ease.

It was hard to believe that this boy was the same one that had yelled at him yesterday. The boy had never let his guard down. Always ready to fight or flight. Always on alert. It made John's heart sink, that this was the only time the kid was this calm around him.

It was easy to forget just how young Noah was. But right now you could see past the mask he was wearing. With him being sick and John holding him like this. The man being well aware that he was holding Noah in a way someone would hold a child much younger than him.

He was just a kid. A kid that went through a lot already.

There was this tight feeling inside his chest again, but he ignored it.

Just when John wanted to relax now that the shivering had stopped, the kid began to move again.

The man, already fearing the worst, prepared himself to be cussed out.

Imagine his surprise when all the kid did was nestle closer to him, burying himself deeper into the warmth. And to top it off he grabbed his shirt in a loose fist and let out a content little sigh.

For a moment everything stilled.

John couldn't believe that really just happened. The kid was seriously snuggling up to him, even if it was just to seek warmth. Or maybe there was more to it.

But now was not the time to think about it.

Instead John went back to stroking Noah's back, while his shocked face turned into a fond smile. Under different circumstances he would consider this the most adorable thing he has seen in his entire life. But he knew if it weren't for Noah's bad state of health, this would have never happened. The kid still hated his guts.

And yet…

“And you say you're not cute,” John chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

The man leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. Looks like he was going to sit here a little longer.

Though, John found that he didn't really mind.

Taglist: @da3dm @himbogiants @coffehbeans @mehs-mini-magic

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #OC: Noah #OC: John #my-writing-jar #parental g/t #gtwac #gtwac day 21 #if i don't get any comments i'm gonna cry /hj

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bean-bean2000 · 4 months

Text

The Hacker - Part 4

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Status: Ongoing

All feedback is very welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: angst, flashbacks, mentions of past trauma, murder, violence, mentions of abuse, swearing, mentions of rape (nothing happens, it is just said in a sentence), mentions of drugs, reader is slightly insecure and unsure of herself. Depression. Bucky and Steve reassuring the reader. Fluffy ending.

Please let me know if i missed any warnings and I will add them.

Part 3

Series masterlist

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You wake up on the floor, back sore, eyes swollen from crying. You slowly get up and trot to the bathroom , staring at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes are bloodshot and swollen. Your cheeks are red and your throat sore from sobbing so hard. You turn away, unable to look at yourself.

You get into the shower and wash off the terrible memories as best you can. After your shower, you throw on some sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt and head to the kitchen, hoping nobody is yet awake at this ungodly hour. The sun is just starting to rise and you rub your temples. trying to alleviate some pain from your pounding headache. In doing so, you don't realize that the kitchen is occupied by Bucky, who is sipping on his coffee watching you.

You don't notice as your eyes are closed and you waddle to the medicine box in the first aid kit under the kitchen counter, searching for anything to stop the throbbing pain in your head.

As you pop your head up from the counter and turn around to grab a glass of water, you shriek when you hear a low grumble behind you "Good morning cyberpunk"

You jump in the air and the bottle of pills goes sprawling across the room like sprinkles. Bucky laughs and apologizes as he helps you pick up the medicine from the floor.

"you're really jumpy, you know that? Steve told me he scared the shit out of you yesterday too." Bucky says with a light chuckle.

"Rough night?" he asks, eyeing you suspiciously as you have not yet spoken, let alone looked at him. He helps you pick the medicine off the floor and back into its container.

You don't reply as you finish cleaning the mess and take the medicine. The coffee machine rings, indicating your coffee is ready so you turn around and grab it.

Unable to even form a sentence, let alone think after last night's flashback, you turn to walk to your office when you feel Bucky's hand lightly grab onto your wrist.

You turn to look at him. His eyes are searhing yours, filled with worry.

When he stares into your eyes, he sees nothing. He doesn't see that usual spunk behind your eyes and that mischievous glint that always lingers. Instead of your usual beautiful eye colour, he sees an empty grey. He sucks in a deep breath - he recognizes that look, he's seen it in himself for many years.

"Hey, are you ok? You haven't even said one snarky remark today. What's going on?" he says to you lightly.

You sigh and shake your head "Please leave me alone, Bucky. Not today." you croak. You look away from him and pull out of his grasp as feel your throat closing in on you, tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Bucky says nothing as you slowly walk away from him. He knows something is wrong but doesn't know how to approach you about it. What happened to you that stole the light from your eyes?

He stares at your back, desperately thinking of what to say to you and how, until you slowly disappear around the corner.

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The next few weeks pass by in a blur. You're on autopilot.

The day after your flashback marked the 7th year of that fateful day. The day you murdered your father and ran away from your life.

You had still participated in missions, as requested by Steve, but you were not your usual spunky self. Your tone was monotonous, void of emotion.

This didn't go unnoticed by the others, thinking you were having an off day. That off-day turned into an off-week then an off-month. They were getting worried, having private group meetings to discuss how to help you and figure out what's going on.

You only ever went from your room to the office and back. You hardly ate, clearly having lost some weight. You didn't sleep; your eyes were sunken and deep with fatigue and weight from the trauma.

Tony decided he had had enough. Screw the deal. He went into a deep-deep-dive of the web to find anything he could about you. Hours later, he found it.

"Guys!!" Tony yelled, running into the conference room they had all gathered in.

"What did you find?" Steve asked, getting up from his chair, arms crossed, his face laced with concern.

"She's dead."

The entire team gasps, streams of what? when? how? isn't she in her office? flying through the room. Tony calms them down and throws up the death certificate onto the screen.

"Legally, she's dead. That's why I couldn't find anything about her."

"Nobody searches for a dead woman." said Bucky, looking up at the screen in disbelief.

"That's not all... that's not her legal name on that document. It's a very well forged document, I don't know how she did it, but it was good enough to fool the US government." Tony explains.

"Her real name is Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. I found her because she was a missing person for a while, until they removed her from the list because nobody was looking for her. I know it's her because of the photo."

Tony pulls up the missing persons poster. A photo of your 16 year old self on the page.

"The reason she was declared a missing person is because someone called the police one night. When they arrived to the apartment, her parents were both dead. Y/N was missing. They assumed she was kidnapped but had no leads. No family or friends came forward to speak to the police. It’s a corrupt and poorly run police department, they deemed it easier to remove her from the missing persons list and hope nobody remembered her... it worked, she made herself dissapear." Tony explains.

"She's been hiding this entire time. Where? How?" Bucky asks. His eyes are wide with shock and disbelief. He couldn’t fathom how you must have felt. The fear, panic, loneliness. Not knowing if you will ever truly be rid of your past.

Where were you for 7 years? How did you survive?

The team look at each other, not knowing what to say or how to approach the situation.

"We can't just ask her. We literally breached the one condition she had for our deal." Steve says, throwing his hands down on the desk, exasperated.

“There’s something else I forgot to mention.” Tony speaks up.

“Look at the date of the police report. The 7th anniversary was a few weeks ago….”

The team look at each other but say nothing.

Bucky jumps up from his seat. “We can't let her continue like this. Look at her. She is literally a walking zombie. I can’t watch her wither away." Bucky says, walking away from the conference room, ignoring the looks and protests from the others. He heads straight for your room, noticing immediately that you're not there, he turns and walks to your office, the only other possible place you would be hiding.

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You stay in your office all day. You're not working, you can't think, you can't move, you feel like a zombie. You sit there on your desk chair, staring at your empty screens.

Time ticks by as you sit in your office. You're paralyzed in place as your mind replays every traumatic event from your past, over and over again. You can't get out, no matter how hard you try. You're trapped.

You hear someone in the distance calling your name. It sounded like they were underwater. It felt like you were free falling while the walls are closing in on you. The voice kept calling and you lean towards it as it gets louder and louder until you feel someone shaking you and yelling your name frantically.

Bucky. He's kneeling in front you, shaking your body and repeating your name over and over again.

You gasp in a deep breath as if you've been holding your breath in this entire time. You look around until your eyes meet Bucky's.

"Hey, Y/N, talk to me, I'm right here. Come on, doll please don't leave me hanging, you're scaring me."

"I - um... I don't... what?..."

"it's okay, it's okay just look at me. You're back, you're here, you're OK. Let's go to your room." He says quietly, trying not to scare you as he helps lift you to your feet.

Your knees quiver as you begin to fall, slipping from his grasp. Bucky grabs you with ease and picks you up bridal style.

"Easy, easy. You haven't left your office in days. You haven't eaten or slept either from the looks of it. I'll carry you." He whispers to you as he holds you gingerly as if you're made of glass.

When he gets to your room he places you on your bed and sits next to you.

Bucky says nothing to you. He doesn't pressure you to speak or do anything until you're ready. He just sits with you, rubbing circles on your hand with his metal arm. The cold is welcoming, helping you ground yourself. It's Bucky's silent way of letting you know that you're not alone.

You're in a daze, the aftershock of your horrific flashback. You didn't realize that Bucky had left, until he returns with a snack and some water. He places it on your bedside table and sits back down next to you.

"You don't have to stay here. You can leave. I'm fine." you manage to say, almost robotically. Your body is running on fumes at this point.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. You don't have to say a word to me but I'm going to sit here and stay with you until I know that you're okay." He says to quietly, placing his hand over yours and squeezing.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally look at him and croak "Flashbacks."

You feel Bucky's hand stiffen and squeeze yours harder. He, of all people, understands flashbacks the most out of anyone. He may not know the full extent of what they’re about.l but he knows it must have been traumatic enough to leave you in a zombified state for a month.

"I'll be fine. Please leave." you say quietly, getting up and heading to your bathroom.

"Please don't shut me out." he pleads, slowly grabbing your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

You realize that now he's seen you like this, at your worst and most vulnerable, you have to talk about it. You've kept this to yourself since you were 16. You let out a long breath and gather the courage you need to explain yourself to Bucky. Sitting back down on your bed, Bucky entwined his hand with your while his metal hand is rubbing up and down your back:

"My childhood home, more like a shit-hole apartment on the outskirts of the city, was horrific. Abusive and alcoholic father, my mother forgave him every time, no matter how many times he beat her unconscious. Until I was old enough for him to turn his anger on me."

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, eyes sharpened with anger as he listened to you.

"He beat me almost daily. Scars litter my body, so I hide behind my oversized clothes. One night, I accidentally dropped a plate and it shattered on the floor, glass everywhere. He was furious so he beat my mother so bad I was sure he killed her. I ran to my room, called 911 but he got to me first and dragged me back to the kitchen. He beat me within an inch of my life. I laid on the floor and watched him laugh at me. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at my mother. I ran to stop him but I was too slow, in too much pain. He turned it to me and with the last ounce of energy i had left, I tackled him. I wrestled him with all of my remaining strength and managed to turn the gun on him. I pulled trigger. 6 times until I heard the empty chamber click.”

"I couldn’t comprehend what just happened. I was running on pure adrenaline and survival instincts. I grabbed whatever I could find and ran away. I lived on the streets, homeless for 4 years. I cut my hair and dyed it a different colour every month to constantly change my appearance. I never stayed in one place longer than 3 days. I ate what I could find and steal. The winters were the harshest. Being a young woman, alone on the streets is a fear I can never forget. You can trust nobody but yourself. As soon as you trust someone, they're either trying to pimp you out, drug you or rape you."

Eventually, I turned to the one thing I could to numb everything. Drugs. Didn't matter what it was as long as it fucked me up enough to escape my mind. At some point, I was meeting up with my dealer begging him to help me. I needed a way out and I had nobody to turn to. He said he knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy and next thing you know, I'm a computer whiz with a knack for hacking. They recruited me, got me off the streets and gave me a second chance at life. I made a living off of doing some odd jobs hacking into bank accounts and servers and stealing money and selling private information. I know, it's a crime, but I was desperate, I had nothing and nobody left. I did what I had to, to survive. Then, one day I get too cocky and try hacking into Stark Tower and I succeeded. That's how you found me."

You finish your story, waiting for Bucky to pull away and call you all the names your father always sneered at you. The name you thought you deserved to be called: a murderer, a coward, a disgusting homeless hood rat, a waste of life.

"Please don't tell the others." you plead, a tear escaping your eyes and falling down your cheek.

Bucky turns to you and raises his hand and wipes away the tear.

Suddenly, you hear a cough. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you spin around to face the door and freeze. Staring back at you is the rest of the team.

Did they hear everything I said? This can't be happening, I have to get out of here.

As you get up and try to find a way out, Steve and Bucky notice your panic. Bucky goes to grip both your arms to help you sit back down.

You manage to yank your arms out of Buckys grip and Steve lifts his arms to grab onto you to calm you down but you flinch back, terrified.

You feel caged and trapped. Your mind flashes back to that dreadful apartment with your father looming over you. You fall to the floor, arms flailing out to protect yourself.

"No! I'm sorry no please, don't. I promise I'll leave and never come back. Please, don't hit me." you plead, sobbing on the floor.

Steve looks to Bucky, a pained and shocked expression on his face.

"Hey, doll, look at me, it's just me and Steve, we won't hurt you I promise. Please, look at me. I need you to follow my breathing." Bucky instructs and he slowly lowers himself to your level on the floor, keeping a distance and placing a gentle hand on your outstretched arm.

You're shaking, still rambling and pleading. You feel Bucky's light touch on your arm and you flinch again, anticipating the pain you assumed would follow.

"It's okay, doll. We're here to help you, not hurt you." Steve says as he lowers himself to the floor, sitting across from you.

You’re brain fog begins to clears and you look up at them, eyes bloodshot, still shaking. You stare into Bucky's eyes and listen to his instructions as you manage to calm your breathing. He's stroking your leg with his metal arm in soothing circles, the cold metal creating a distraction.

Steve hands you a cold damp towel and places it on your forehead.

Once your breathing has levelled and you seem to have calmed down from your panicked state, you look up to your bedroom door. The rest of the team seem to have backed away earlier on, not wanting to overwhelm you with too many people in your space.

Bucky calls you and you turn to stare into his blue eyes.

"I would never hurt you. Steve will never hurt you. We will never let you get hurt ever again. I will protect you with my very being." he says to you, eyes glistening with pain and hurt for you.”

"Listen to me, I know this has been a stressful few weeks, but you can trust us. I promise. I will never leave your side. Do you understand me? Do you believe me?"

You nod your head, tears spilling from eyes and your emotions overflow you. He doesn't hate you, he didn't name call you or judge you. He cares for you. You haven't felt this type of care and comfort in years.

You grab onto him and hug him tightly.

"I trust you, I believe you. Thank you." you cry into his shoulder.

You feel Steve’s hand running up and down your back as you're hugging Bucky.

You have never spoken those words to anyone before. You have never been able to trust anyone but yourself.

Bucky gives Steve a look, communicating with each other through their eyes. A common thing after years of friendship. He gets up and leaves you two alone.

Bucky tugs you closer into his chest. You feel the warmth from his body and the raw emotions from his hug. Like he was creating a barrier around you, shielding you.

You let go from the hug and look up at him. Bucky wipes the tears from your face, cups your cheek with his palm. He asks you what you want him to do to help you. You ask him for a distraction, a movie perhaps?

He smiles gently and tells you to pick whatever movie you want as he grabs some snacks. You agree with a large smile across your face, your heart swelling with emotion at his kindness and warmth.

You and Bucky create a makeshift fort on the couch in the living room of the compound, with as many blankets and pillows as you can find. Bucky wraps his arm around your shoulders as you sit on the couch and plays the movie.

You had fallen asleep and wake up lightly to the smell of a fresh forest and bourbon and strong arms carrying you. You begin to stir as you hear Bucky chuckle and tell you to go back to sleep. He lays you lightly on your bed and covers you with your blankets. As he starts to walk away when you grab onto his wrist lightly, weak from the fatigue of the days events.

"Stay. Please." you whisper. Your eyelids are heavy as you try to open them enough to see Bucky.

You feel his hesitation but he sighs and you feel the bed dip on the other side.

"I'll stay until you fall back asleep." he whispers to you. You feel his hand gently play with your hair as you fall into a deep sleep.

Once he's sure you're in a deep sleep, he gets up and leaves your room, gently closing the door behind him as he crosses the hall to reach his bedroom door facing yours.

He chuckles to himself. I've never felt like this towards someone. I mean I love Steve, but it’s brotherly love. This is more. I don't want to be just her friend. I want to protect her, be there for her, let her trust me. I can't even consider anybody harming her without my blood boiling. She's gorgeous, she's brilliant, she has a snarky personality that I love because she challenges me. She makes me smile even on my worst days, without even trying. I will forever keep my promise to her and protect her with all my being. She will never get hurt again. I can't let that happen, I care too much about her -- I... I like her... a lot...

He sighs with a smile at his realization. What does he do now? He wants to be there for you, make sure you feel safe and protected around him.

He shakes his head as he gets into bed. He falls asleep thinking of you.

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luimagines · 11 months

Text

Take Your Sick Day

Another Commission!

Masterlist

They asked for Dragon Link, specially Skyward Sword Link and for me to make it sooo fuffy that they would be laid comatose. I’m not entirely if I did that but I got permission to share it :D

Content under the cut!

“You’re warm.” A black scaled reptilian tail lashed back and forth like an agitated cat. Cool hands place themselves by your neck and on your forehead. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” You cough, covering your mouth with your sleeve.

The half formed dragon sends you a deadpan stare. “Uh-huh. And let me guess you’re also planning on going out to finish the job you started yesterday, right?”

You glare, daring him to say anything about your plans for today.

“Cancel them.”

“No.”

“You’re sick.” The half dragon in front of you stresses. “Jayrie is old enough as it is, what if she catches it?”

You pause. Jayrie was the kind elderly woman who gave you a job when you had no other means of income. The work was simple but long. However, someone had to do it and you were happy to fill in the position when asked. Like everyone else in the settlement, Jayrie was a dragon but she was considered old even by their standards. You never did ask how old she truly was. But if you had to guess, she was centuries old.

The boy in front of you was older too. Granted, he may have looked closer to your age but he himself admitted to be nearly two hundred years old already. You’re not sure how that aging works out as it does. But Hyrule’s magic was hard to pin down as it is. You won’t question it.

“Dragons don’t get as sick as we do.” You inform him with a meek voice. Do they? It was an argument you were willing to make, but not one that you thought you could defend very well.

The young man sends you a blank look.

You begin to fluster, gathering that your argument lacked a foundation. “Look… Link… It’s not even that bad.”

“Uh-huh.” He repeats his earlier disinterest. “Explain to me then why you look like you’re about to keel over and pass out.”

You huff. “I’m fine.”

He’s not convinced. “At least eat something.” He says, eyeing you up and down. “It won’t do you any good to get out there without any strength left in you.”

You have the suspicion that he has something else planned but you can’t figure out what it is. On top of that, you don’t feel really hungry. If anything, the thought of eating makes you queasy. However… if that’s his only condition to let you go, you can’t really deny it. “Sure. I’ll eat something.”

You already feel worse.

Link nods, smiling softly. “Good. Give me a second to whip something up then you can head out.”

You grin back tensely. “Thanks.”

“Anything.” He leans forward, kissing your forehead quickly before he dips into the kitchen. You can feel that he laced that kiss with some of his magic. It was cooling and sweet. You can feel it flush through your system, even if it doesn’t hold. There was a healing spell there. It’s a shame that it never sticks.

You gulp and notice that your throat does feel stretchier than usual. But you’ve so close to finishing up that order for the week. It can’t afford to be put off for another day. And if anything, you’ve never been one to leave things half done. You were sure you would be able to get it done today. Then maybe tomorrow you can take the day off to recover. It’s just a little discomfort for a long term pay out, right?

Man, you were getting colder. And your back was sore. Maybe you should go lay down for a little bit. Then Link can come in with breakfast, you can swallow it down and go to work.

“That sounds nice.” You say to yourself. Your head hit the pillow and it was just cold enough that it eased the pressure building in your head. You were still getting colder. You can feel yourself begin to shake from the chills. Maybe you can get under the blankets. Just for a little bit. Five minutes, max.

Link was busy cooking up something simple for you. You looked miserable, if he was being honest. From your blood shot eyes, to the clear way your nose was beginning to run and you were flushed with fever. He had seen his own people get sick before, but it was hardly ever to that extent. Maybe your kind was different?

For one thing, you were right. Dragons don’t get sick as often but this is the fifth time it’s happened since you’ve landed in their little settlement on the surface. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you were empty. Not a hint of magic within you, whatsoever. It was concerning when you first showed up but it never seemed to be a hindrance. Link had taken a liking to you instantly. Even if you were ignoring his advances, he wanted to try to court you.

He pulled out all the stops, doing everything he knew would be the right thing to do. He just hoped it would be enough to impress you and choose him back.

Only for it to come to light that you had no idea was trying to court you to begin with. Not only were you not a dragon and lacked magic, but your senses were still just a shot in the dark compared to what he could perceive. It was as if you were a different creature entirely.

But that didn’t change how much he wanted to make you his.

It ended up being near impossible, given that magic always seemed to flow out of you. Nothing could stick no matter what they tried. He couldn’t add his mark to you. You were blocked off of any magic in general. Which was concerning when you were injured. You couldn't take any healing spells or health potions and there were little other methods they had to deal with problems like those. Still, Link never considered himself one to shy away from a challenge. Which led to where you are today, with him in his house on the surface, helping to keep the settlement stable in the little ways you could help.

He could hear you get back into the bed as the eggs sizzled and popped by the stove. Link allowed his heart to relax a bit. Good, he sighed. You should be resting. He had the sinking suspicion that you got sick by overworking yourself again. Not to mention that winter was around the corner and the temperature was dropping.

He shakes his head and plates the food, hoping you’d have it in you to eat something anyway. “What am I going to do with you?”

Link creeps through the house and peaks through the door to the bedroom. While he holds the plate of eggs and toast in one hand, he holds the door just a crack open with the other. A breath of relief flows out of him. You’ve fallen asleep.

“Why must you push yourself so hard, Beloved?” He whispers, entering the room and putting the plate on the bedside table.

The back of his hand brushes against your temple and forehead once more. A frown places itself firmly on his features. “You’re warmer than you usually are.”

Link sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing the side of your face as you sleep. In retrospect, this isn’t anything new. You’ve both gone through this before. You’ve both learned and grown and adapted to the circumstances. Link knows what he has to do to help you fight the war within you.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish this would be easier to handle.

He tucks you into the bed, making sure the blankets are wrapped snugly around you before he gets up again. There’s a pause where he considers taking the plate back with him. It’s not like you’re going to eat it anytime soon. But perhaps you wake up in the time it takes him to make his rounds. Link still wants you to have something in your stomach, even if it’ll be the only thing you eat today.

Link walks around his house, making sure everything is in place and within easy reach.

He goes to tell Jayrie that you’re sick and won’t be making it to your shift today, and potentially not tomorrow either. The elderly woman is ever understanding, having gotten to know your nature quite well after working with you for as long as she has.

“Take care of them, young man.” She shakes her head softly. “Let them know to only come back when they’re feeling one hundred percent back to their normal self.”

Link tips his head in gratitude, a soft smile overtaking his face. “Yes, ma’am. I plan to do just that. I just have to let the others know that I won’t be able to come in again-”

“Oh nevermind them.” Jayrie waves him off. “I can tell those old fuddy duddies that your mate needs you for the time being. Go back home now, you hear? We both know that if you’re not there to stop them, they’ll just keep working until their body forces them to stop.”

“They’re asleep right now.” Link admits with a shy smile. “I think that might have already happened.”

“All the more reason to make sure they don’t push themselves any further.” Jayrie begins to push him out of her shop and back onto the main trail. “Go on now, go!”

“Thank you.” Link tips his head in gratitude and rushes back home to you, leaving a blustering wind in his wake.

When he gets back into the house, he checks on you first. You’re still asleep and the eggs are still untouched. A sigh tumbles out of him once more. Link supposes that this is better than you trying to work more while you’re ill. Then again, it’s a testament to how sick you truly are.

With his own plans canceled for the day, Link has to find ways to keep himself busy while he waits until you need something from him. Granted, there’s very little to do around the house. It’s on the smaller side and he hasn’t needed to expand much even when you joined him under the same roof. He can clean but that proves to be only a small chore when the two of you don’t leave a lot of clutter around the counter spaces anyway.

Suddenly, he hears you groan a bit. Intrigued by your sudden movement, Link makes his way through the house and pokes his head through the doorway. “Are you awake now, Beloved?”

You groan again and blink your eyes open. Blearily, you looked around you and slowly burrow deeper into the blankets. “It’s so bright.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Link smiles, walking in to close the curtains. “”There. Better?”

“Mhm.” You hum and lift your head up a bit. You cough. It sounds rough and wet. “What time is it?”

Link flinches. Your voice sounds rough as well. “Closer to noon. Maybe past that. I haven’t been looking at the clock.”

You frown and Link knows it’s because you’re upset that you missed out on your shift. Then your eyes land on him again. “Didn’t you have to help Groose and Zelda with the new farmland today?”

“I got it covered.” Link waves you off, not wanting to go into too many details. “You need me. You are my priority.”

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.” Link smiles and sits on the edge of the bed again. His hand comes up once more to feel your forehead and cheeks. “Still warm. How are you feeling?”

“I feel horrible… and gross.” You whine.

Link frowns. “I believe you.”

You lift your arms up for a hug. You look so small and miserable, it melts Link’s heart. With a small huff, Link climbs into the bed next to you, shifting into his half dragon form and wraps himself around you.

Link feels you hum and relax in satisfaction. A proud smile covers his face as he rests his head on top of yours. He tucks you under his chin, holding you close to his chest as he begins to purr. With his arms and tail wrapped around you, and his legs intertwined with yours, he feels a sense of peace wash over him.

This is perfect, as it should be. You are right next to him and within his arms. The dragon in him couldn’t be happier. He’ll look after you. You are his mate. There’s no other person he could think of to fill this spot. It belongs to you and you alone.

”Link…” Your voice cuts through the simple quiet that descended after he snuggled up to you. “I still feel gross.”

Link snorts. “I have a feeling you'll feel gross for a while.”

“...I’m sick.” You pout.

“Yeah. I know.” Link pets your hair. “We should get you cleaned up at least.”

You tilt your head up to look up at him, not fully understanding what he means by that.

With a dimmed mischievous smile, Link turns and picks you up, easily holding you in his arms. You’re too tired to react to it. Instead, you rest your head on his shoulder and hold onto his shoulder loosely.

Link walks through the house once more, heading to the back where he’s made a corner for your privacy. He sets you down on a wooden chair and points to the pool he intends to fill up. “Bath time.”

You make a face but comply, ridding yourself of the clothes that have been sitting in your sickness. Link calls to the clouds to form above the ditch, letting it rain and fill with the water. To the side, he tosses wood and cranks a fan. Quickly, zapping the wood with lightning, he creates a fire and watches in satisfaction as the rain water begins to warm up.

He doesn’t have to keep the crank in motion for the job to be completed, so he let’s it run its course, turning instead to pick out the soaps he intends to use.

When he fishes out the soap, he sees you lowering yourself already into the water, sinking into it slowly. “How’s the water?”

“Not warm enough.” You mumbles, cupping the water up to rinse your shoulders.

Link places the soaps by your side and goes back to the fire, using the fan to grow the flame. With time, you let him know that it’s just where you want it and he returns to your side.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say as he kneels. “I can do this myself.”

“You can.” He agrees. “But you wouldn’t. Let me be good to you. You’re not feeling well anyway.”

You pout and growl the best you can, but the sickness doesn’t allow you to properly be intimidating.

Link rolls up his sleeves and takes one of the bars of soap, dipping it into the water and bringing it back up to run it over your body. With one hand lathering the soap, the other makes quick work of kneading into your muscles, working out the soreness and knots that tend to gather when you fall ill.

A groan leaves you before you can stop it. You’re inclined to lower yourself into the water and tilt your head back. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Thank you.”

Link smiles as you appear to already look better. He doesn’t fully understand how the steam helps you but he’s not going to ask questions. He kisses the tip of your nose. “Always and forever, Beloved. Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“You’re going to make me fall asleep again.” You admit, but you don’t say no.

“Good.” Link laughs. “Anything to get you to slow down for once.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“And yet here we are.” Link flicks the back of your head gently, grabbing a different soap and lathers it in between his hands. His fingers dive into your hair and begin to massage your scalp.

Calling over a rain cloud, he lets it rinse out the soap as he goes. It’s not as warm as the water around you, but it proves to be a calming sensation to your still peaked fever. You sink further into the pit.

Link is more or less forced to follow you lower but he has to pull himself back up. He chuckles at your reactions and steps back to strip.

You whine again. “Liinnkkk…Where’d you go?”

“Right behind you, hold on.” Link laughs, placing his clothes neatly onto the table. He lowers himself onto the water as well, wondering if perhaps the water could be a bit warmer for the both of you.

He sees you smile when you see him sit in the bath. That look on your face makes this whole thing worth it, in Link’s eyes. That little pleased smile pushes you forward and you wrap yourself around Link once more.

Link gladly takes you into his arms again and goes back to running his hands through your hair, massaging every inch he can reach. The rain cloud follows and rinses the soap off of your body. With a kiss to the top of your head, Link leans back against the wall of the ditch, pushing the stronger rain clouds away before it can overflow. “I love you, Beloved.”

“I love you too.” You sigh, letting yourself be held against his chest. You’re content and already feeling better. It’s just one thing that scratches the back of your mind. “I didn’t have the breakfast you made me.”

“I know.” He says quietly. “I’ll make more.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.” He nuzzles the side of your head. “But rest up first. We’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

You hum and nod, resting against him at last.

“Sleep well.”

#link x reader #skyward sword #skyward sword link #legend of zelda #dragon au #for the record #I'll put this in the Sky masterlist #since its supposed ot be the same guy anyway #but aside from one line- it can almost be any link

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