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violettelueur · 3 years

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— ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + KUGISAKI NOBARA + GOJO SATORU || TAKING CARE OF THEIR SICK S/O

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 26 january

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : Hello! Can I order headcanon's of the main trio + gojo of how they would take care of reader when they have the flu or are sick? Thank you!!! ~

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone~ how are you all? doing well? technically yesterday since it’s midnight here, but when i was answering question during my online class, i was listening to JJK ending song to fill in the silence and then my chemistry teacher scared me out of nowhere ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ (probably might upload a video later because i do have it on camera) but moving on from that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come to the cafe again soon ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

When you have fallen ill, Itadori will confidently show that he is worried about you and will constantly ask if you are okay - even when you have fallen asleep, he will ask you in a whispered tone.

“Are you okay? Are you comfortable, baby? Do you need anything?”

“Babe, I’m alright for now, I just want cuddles”

On the low, I feel like his bright personality is medicine itself and once you gain vitamin D from his smile, you are up and feeling better already.

When he finds you ill, he will slightly panic since he sort of doesn’t know what to do, but he will try to calm himself down - of course, he has taken care of his grandfather, it was mainly the hospital taking care of him most of the time.

He has an idea on what to cook for you - because ever since that little juju stroll, we know he can - he will cook you something that is light, so expect a bowl of the soup on your bedside table.

He will 100% feed you but let you take as much time as you need because we all know that when we are sick, we have no appetite - or is that just me?

He will sometimes forget if you have taken your medicine or not since his worries get the best of him - so please inform him that you have and don’t lie.

Just know he will buy a huge bottle of water and place it near you since you need to be hydrated - and the huge bottle is because he will forget to get you more water if you have finished a cup.

Cuddles! If you demand cuddles, he will happily waste no time to cuddle you - probably because he wants cuddles as well - and just hold you to keep you comfortable.

He knows he can’t kiss you since you refuse to since you don’t want him to get him ill as well, so he will kiss your cheek/forehead as a temporary solution for the time being.

If you can’t sleep, he will tell you about his day and what he did leading you to fall asleep at the sound of his voice.

He knows that it's not good for you, but he will give you some sweets and a few snacks to help you have some sugar in your system so you have some sort of energy.

Overall, Itadori will be such a caring person and will try his best to make sure you get better as quickly as possible since he is worried that he’s not really the best carer, so please tell him that you are thankful.

Fushiguro will be worried but somehow doesn’t express it and will lightly scold you for getting ill in the first place - well I’m sorry, but what did you expect when you were fighting in the rain for an extremely long time.

“I told you to take care of yourself and you decided to do the opposite?”

Once he has finished scolding you, he checks everything like temperature and how you’re feeling before asking if you have eaten or had anything to drink - even if you have, he will make you drink a glass of water and eat right in front of him, so he knows you have - he will also make you ginger tea with honey as well because he is such a gentleman.

Will also make you take your medicine in front of him so he knows that you have as well - before you were even sick, he would have painkillers within his pocket already.

Fushiguro will prepare you a bowl of fruits like oranges, strawberries, apples, grapes and more - because citrus does help with illness (he probably knew that from one of his non-fiction books)

He will offer to change into one of his shirts if you have a fever or his jumper if you have a cold since he doesn’t want you to stay in your ill-ridden clothing.

“Take this and change into, you can give it back to me later okay?”

If he has to go somewhere, he will summon his divine dogs so they can keep an eye on you while he is away - but he won’t do this when he is on a mission because I think he can’t summon more than one shikigami at a time.

When he comes back, both divine dogs are already on your bed cuddling with you because you lowkey beckoned them to - Fushiguro will be jealous and tries not to show it.

Other times, he will summon his rabbits to help comfort you and he will be surprised on how many can actually fit in your bed cause all of them surround you to keep you warm - even some will go under your arm to let you cuddle with them.

If you ask for cuddles, he will shyly invite himself into your arms but since you are ill, he will be the big spoon for now and play with your hair to help comfort you - but he has a small smile on his face because it’s his turn now and not his dogs hehe.

Since he can’t kiss you on the lips, he would kiss your hand the most as a sense of comfort to you and him.

If you don’t have a headache, Fushiguro will read to you since you love the sound of his voice and it is easier for you to fall asleep.

If he has to go on a mission, he will leave a note and after the mission, he will text you to make sure you are okay.

Overall, Fushiguro is extremely worried about you internally and will do anything to get you better to the best of his abilities - but still on the low will scold you for not taking care of yourself before apologising for not making sure you’re not okay (baby, it ain’t your fault….)

When she finds out that you are sick, she will flat out call you an idiot for getting sick in the first place before angrily worrying about you.

“Why did you get sick in the first place you idiot?! We were supposed to go out today!”

Once her sulking fit has finished, she will then begin to try her best to take care of you but I feel like she wouldn’t know where to start.

Of course, she knows that you have to take medicine but she wouldn’t know when - like is it after you eat something or before, so please guide her along.

I don’t think she can cook, so she will order something for you - please tell her it has to be something fit for an illness because she will order cakes - or demand one of the boys to make something for her to give to you (100% she will threaten Itadori to make it then somehow drag Fushiguro into the situation)

You can literally hear them arguing outside your door and it’s quite funny, to be honest - probably lifts up your mood slightly but expect a headache after.

Of course, this doesn’t stop her from ordering both you and her bubble tea because what’s more perfect.

Once you are done eating and taking your medication, she will probably online shop with you to make up for the sudden change of plans for the date you two were supposed to go on.

Kugisaki will also help you do your skincare, probably will make you sit on the edge of the bath and just help you apply your moisturizer on your face since she knows this is one way to make you feel better - it also helps take away the feeling of being sick.

She will also brush your hair for you, so it is not a complete mess for the whole day and will help you put it in a bun.

She will invite Maki into your room to have a girl’s talk because it’s probably one of the only times where you three get to talk to one another about anything - even though you would sort of struggle but they’ll make you laugh (don’t ever expect Itadori and Fushiguro to be invited)

When you two are alone, she would also cup your face and just bombard you with kisses upon your cheek to help you comfort you and will hug you with a little pout - she is still disappointed that she didn’t get to go out with you.

At the end of the day, expect cuddles and a Netflix marathon - you two probably watch a lot of K-Dramas and maybe some Bridgerton (never watched it by the way but I am planning to).

Overall, She will try her best to make you better in no time, but her top priority is to try to make it more enjoyable for you and make you feel extremely beautiful during the time you are ill because the feeling is just horrible.

When Gojo discovers that you are ill, he will tease you in the beginning once he finds you - it’s not like he doesn’t care, it’s just this is the one thing you can’t really tease/fight him back except for a pillow being thrown at him.

“Honey~ why didn’t you tell me you were lovesick? Awww~ you love me too much” - then will sing Lovesick Girls by BLACKPINK to annoy you more.

Disclaimer, he will either not let the pillow touch him due to his infinity or he will allow the pillow to hit him and then complain that now he is hurt.

However, after his little teasing session is done, Gojo will start to make sure you are feeling okay by asking you a few questions while comparing your temperature to his by placing his forehead against yours.

Once he has established how unwell you are, he will begin to step up everything needed like water, food and medicine because he never knows when he is going to get called up by the higher-ups for an urgent mission.

However, if he is lucky and doesn’t get called up, expect him to dote on you throughout the whole day and the whole time you are ill.

If Gojo can cook, he will make a whole three-course meal for you to eat since he wants you to be full and have some energy, but if he can’t cook, he will make Ichiji go out and buy you something/order something for you.

Gojo will feed the food to you and refuses you to hold the utensils since ‘you’re too weak for it’ - because he just wants to feed and you will tease you by pulling the fork/spoon away.

He will also help you drink the glass of water he has prepared for you and call you a ‘good girl’ after the meal because he knows that you don’t really have the appetite to eat in the beginning.

Gojo will also prepare you a bath overflowing bubbles to help make you feel better and warm - but don’t be surprised when he will join you to hold you close but will make an excuse by saying to make sure ‘you don’t overheat’.

He will change you into one of his black jumpers or his white shirt - depends on the season - and will call you cute no matter what even when you deny it because you are ill.

He will already cuddle with you before you even ask him to, so let’s be happy that this man’s love language is physical touch.

Gojo will try to kiss you on the lips even though you told him not to, so please cover your mouth and let him kiss the black of your hand - other than that, he will kiss anywhere on your body that you will allow.

If he knows he has to go on a mission later, he would sit by your side and hold your hand close to him until he is called - will also leave a note to tell you why he isn’t by your side if you are asleep with a cup of water right beside it.

Overall, Gojo is such a teasing man but also extremely loving towards you when you are ill, he just wants you to get better and will act as normal as he can, so you can’t tell that he is worried about you.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Frailty, thy name is woman! {1}

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, masturbation, mentions of miscarriage, depression, and suicide.

This is dark!doctor!Steve Rogers and soft!Peter Parker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You have an illness that can’t be seen or named. Doctor Rogers is your last chance at a cure as your loving husband tries to rediscover the woman he married.

Inspired by this ask

Note: So this went a little long and I split it into 2 but you can just pretend it’s a one shot lol. It’s set in the 1900s so keep that in mind! I hope you all like it.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Another cold morning. It started like any other. You woke in the bed, wrapped in the same woolen blanket, in the same dress you’d been wearing for more than a week. In the same spot you hadn’t left for nearly as long. You didn’t have the strength to do anything but wallow, trapped in another episode of melancholy.

You wanted to be normal, you wanted to be happy, you wanted to get up and go tell your husband to stop messing around in the kitchen so you could do your work. So you could be the wife you were supposed to be. But that desire could not fill the endless pit you felt deep in your chest.

You listened to the clink of heavy dishes and the bubbling of water over the hissing gas burner. Peter moved around in a series of groans and creaks from the floorboards. You pulled the blanket tighter, sickened by your own odor, and sniffed. You wouldn’t cry again, you couldn’t. You always felt as if the tears would fall at any moment but they never came. You just laid there, staring at the wall, curled up against the drafts that blew through the rattling window panes.

You heard the hinges and winced. Worse than letting down your husband was looking in his face and seeing it. He came around your side of the bed and sat on the edge, just against your stomach. He set down a bowl on the boxy night table, steam curling from its brim as he set a spoon against the side and clinked a cup down next to it.

You turned your face into the pillow and he touched your shoulder as he turned and bent his leg up on the mattress. He rubbed your arm gently but you felt nothing. You shivered and knotted your fingers together.

“Hey, you need to eat,” he coaxed, “please.”

You grumbled and shook your head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You said that last night,” he ran his knuckles over your cheek and bent over you, “you haven’t eaten in two days, dear.”

“I don’t care,” you pouted into the feather pillow.

“Well, I do,” he stretched his fingers over your head and rubbed your cheekbone with his thumb, “I care about you, dear. Even after everything that’s happened.”

“Why?” you asked weakly.

“Because I will always care for you. I love you, you’re my wife and we will get through this together, so please, sit up and eat for me.” His voice was brittle and threatened to shatter in the air. Your heart squeezed and you rolled onto your back.

You looked at him grimly, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry,” he pulled open the blanket and hooked his arms under yours to pull you up. He sat you against the metal headboard and took the bowl. “Just eat. I put some cinnamon in the porridge, just like you prefer, and milk in the tea. I promise, it’s not sour this time.”

You accepted the hot bowl and nestled it in your lap. You stared at the oats and wiggled your nose. “I… you shouldn’t do all this. You shouldn’t have to,” you held the bowl with your legs and covered your face, “I want to do it all so badly but--” you blinked away the tears and wiped your cheeks as you dropped your hands back to the dish, “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you want to,” he grabbed the spoon and scooped up some oats, “and I want to help you do that but I can’t unless you help me.”

You let him feed you a mouthful. Just like everything else, it was bland, you barely even felt the heat.

“I’m trying--”

He hushed you and fed you some more. He focused on the task until the bowl was empty and your stomach felt painfully heavy. He placed the bowl back beside the porcelain and handed you the tea.

“I need you to listen to me, dear,” he said, “please and understand this is for your own good. To help you be the wife you once were.”

You held the cup with both hands and watched him over the brim. You gulped. Would he send you to one of those sanitariums where women never came back the same, if at all?

“Please, don’t send me away. You can’t! Please,” you begged and nearly spilled the tea.

“No, no, I… couldn’t,” he touched your elbow gently, “but I’ve been asking around and I’ve found a physician.”

“A physician? Oh, Peter, the last one laughed me out of the room,” you moped, “and the one before him yelled at me so horribly. I cannot do it again.”

“I know, I know,” he played with a fold along his sleeve, “but this one specialises in women’s issues. I’ve heard positive things about him and I think you should talk to him.”

“I don’t know,” you sipped the tea, it was acidic but thin.

Peter was silent as he hung his head. He grasped his knees and his jaw ticked. He heaved and closed his eyes. “I can’t let you die in here. I can’t--” his voice cracked, “please, just try this for me, dear.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, his warm brown irises were desperate, “It would kill me too.”

You lowered your chin and peered into the mug, errant leaves floating in the tea. You exhaled and gulped.

“I’ve made the appointment for noon.”

“I… I’m unready. My hair, my dress… I am unbathed.”

“You have time and I will help you,” he ran his hand up your leg smoothly, “and if you want me in the office with you, I will be there, and if you want me away, I will go.”

You thought and took another drink. You leaned back on the whiny headboard and blinked at Peter.

“You really think he can help me?”

“I’ve got to hope. It’s all I got,” he said as he opened his hands helplessly, “I believe in you. You’re still the woman I fell in love with.”

🩺

Peter helped you wash and dress. You picked the grey dress with the buttons down the front and the straight sleeves. You hid your hair under a black hat and teetered on the low heels of your boots. You felt like an imposter, like anyone could see through your disguise to the horrid creature beneath.

He drove you uptown in the one-horse buggy and the old steed moved slowly through the mud and cobbles.

You felt a sudden storm of guilt as he drew up to the brick front of the office and tied up the horse. He did everything, he worked at the laboratory as an lowly assistant, expected only to dispose of the refuse and wipe the countertops, then came home and did your chores for you. He worked hard for the little money you had and now he was spending it on another doctor to fix your irreparable mind.

He helped you out of the buggy with his hand on yours and you pulled your short cape closer as you huddled down against the collar. He led you to the front door of the shared offices and up the three flights to the door marked ‘Dr. Steven Rogers, physician’.

You wrung your hands as you entered and glanced around as Peter gave your name and the time of your appointment. You were surprised to find that your husband was the only male in the room. He led you to a bench and sat with you, his hand on your arm as he comforted your doubts.

You listened as names were called and after more than an hour, yours finally rose from the nurse’s lips. You stood as Peter did too. “Do you want me here or with you?” he asked.

“I…” your heart raced as you looked between him and the nurse, “I suppose I should do it myself.”

“I’ll be out here. You send for me if you need,” he squeezed your hand one last time and watched you go.

The nurse smiled at you but you couldn’t return the gesture. You were terrified. You had seen so many doctors and each one gave the same answers; there was nothing wrong with you, you were only lazy, you were conjuring it all in your head, you were just another woman without sense.

You were shown into the sterile room and the nurse left your chart on the desk. You stepped up the stool and sat on the metal examination table covered in pure white linen. You waited in suspense, arguing with yourself not to flee and go back to your blanket and bed. When a knock came, you squeaked and the door opened slowly.

A man peeked inside cautiously and cleared his throat as he spotted you. “I’m coming in, miss.”

You nodded and he entered, the door clicking behind him. He greeted you with a handshake and read your name off the chart as he gave his own; Dr. Steven Rogers. He sat on the tall stool by the desk and looked at you.

His blond hair was as neat as his suit and his blue eyes were penetrating but placid. His white jacket hung from his broad shoulders and a stethoscope rounded his neck as his posture put him above most.

“You can sit on the sofa if your are more comfortable,” he gestured to the leather seat along the opposite wall, “this is just an introductory appointment, I won’t be doing any examinations.”

You pursed your lips and shifted off the table. You went to the sofa and sat, your leg shaking wildly as you tried to still it with your hand. He smiled patiently and dipped his pen in the well.

“So, we will start easy, how old are you?”

Your eyes rounded. You sputtered before you got the answer out and he nodded and scribbled on the paper. He went down a list; an previous health issues, height, weight, current prescriptions. When he finished he set aside the folder and looked at you fully.

“That’s all just formality and I don’t like my patients to feel like they’re being interrogated so we’re just going to talk. Would you like some water?”

“No, no, I’m…” you smoothed a wrinkle in your dull skirt and stared at your lap.

“You need a moment?” he dipped his head as he tried to catch your eye, “take a breath, I know it’s a lot.”

“No, I’m just… pathetic.” you murmured.

“Now, we don’t talk like that in this office,” he girded, “so why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

You sucked in a breath and your hands crawled over your skirts nervously, skittering like spiders. You could feel the dread rising and the air was thick in your lungs. You began to pant in shallow breaths and gripped the arm of the couch.

“Ma’am, ma’am,” he stood slowly and neared you, “may I sit with you?”

“Oh, oh, oh,” you moaned as you began to shake, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you wetted your dry lips with your tongue, “yes, doctor.”

He lowered himself lightly onto the cushion. He leaned forward and looked you in your face as you tried to hide from him and struggled to breathe. “I’m going to count and you breathe in time; one, two…”

You focused on the numbers and rocked back and forth until your heart slowed and your gasps petered out. He stopped his count and sat up. He stayed where he was, his hand on his thigh as you felt his gaze on you.

“So, what has been happening in your life, ma’am?” he asked.

“I’m sure my husband--”

“No, I don’t speak with husbands, I want to hear from the women themselves. You see I run a practice for women and their troubles and I cannot treat these troubles if they come from the lips of men. So you explain, in your own way, in your own time.”

You raised your shoulders and exhaled. You folded your hands and nodded. You tried to sort through all your thoughts, the blurred days, and the frightening nights.

“Today is the first I’ve left my bed in more than a week. It’s not the first time, either. It keeps happening and… I just don’t know why,” you’re voice quivered as you shrunk down in shame.

You waited in silence. You peeked over at him as you expected him to speak.

“Go on, just pretend as if you were speaking to yourself. No one else is here, you’re just going through your thoughts aloud. Sometimes when we hear them, they are clearer to us.”

“I don’t understand--” you clapped your hands.

“Close your eyes and keep talking.”

You swallowed and let your lids shut. The room disappeared and you mustered your voice. You didn’t know where to begin. So you went back to the day you married Peter. From the wedding day, to the first episode, the second, the third, you gave a brief map of the three years you’d been together. Then you braced yourself for it, the “I don’t know” and “nothing’s wrong”.

“Hmm,” he stood and you opened your eyes. He paced to the other side of the room and leaned against the table. “That’s not everything. You… have to be honest with yourself. This isn’t about me and what I think, it’s about you. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” you gulped.

He nodded and crossed his arms. He dropped them when he saw you frown and resumed his seat on the stool. He sat straight and watched you but held no anger or malintent in his gaze.

“Alright, then we shall go through some questions and answers. Many of my patients find a dialogue more helpful,” he said. “Now, I might ask some personal questions but remember that your answers do not go beyond these walls.”

You bit into your bottom lip and hummed your agreement. He clicked his tongue and smiled again.

“You said you’ve been married for three years, thereabouts, so when was the last time you were close with your husband?”

“Close?” you stammered.

“Intimate,” he prodded.

“Uhhh,” you squirmed and looked away.

“You are married, there is no shame in it. So?”

“Months,” you confessed, “I don’t know how many. And it isn’t as if he doesn’t try but I can’t.”

“Mhmm, and you said you have no children?”

You tensed and couldn’t answer. Your heart sank and you bent over as you hugged yourself.

“You… you’ve lost a child?” he asked softly.

You nodded and batted away tears with your lashes. You shook and grunted in frustration. You stood suddenly and stomped your foot.

“I need to go,” you hissed as you marched to the door.

Doctor Rogers was quick and held the door closed before you could reach it.

“Did he know?” he asked.

You sneered and shook your head.

“Just one?”

You trembled and tried to push his arm down. “I can’t--”

“Hey,” he grabbed your shoulders and edged you back from the door, “I’m trying to help you. You’re here to repair yourself and your marriage, you need to try and it won’t be easy but it would be worse to wallow in all that grief alone.”

“Please, Dr. Rogers, I have to--” you shoved on his arms as you sobbed, “I… I… he is my husband and I can’t give him the most precious thing he ever wanted. I can’t make him happy no matter how I try. It would be a gift if I were to die in that bed. He would be free--”

“No,” he said sharply and guided you backward, “we don’t speak like that.” He sat you down and knelt to look in your eyes, “you don’t speak to yourself like that.”

He sighed and dropped his hands to yours. He held them gently as you sniffed back the tears and hid behind the brim of your hat.

“When was the last?” he asked cautiously.

“I lost it a month and a half back. I abstained from my marital bed in hopes it might survive,” you quavered, “It did not.”

“Is there pain?”

“Now?”

“Yes?”

“At times, but in my soul,” you said.

He let you go and stood, “and how do you sleep?”

“Not much. I cannot. I only lay and stare and wish.”

“Mm, well, I have some things for you to do but they are easy and I do not want you to stress yourself. If you cannot do all, then some.” He sat on his stool again and picked up a small pad. “I will prescribe you a medicine you can put in your tea, it will aid in your sleep and that it the foundation of healing. Then, there are only small things; when your husband comes to you, affectionately, you will let him kiss you, just on the cheek if you wish, but if he cares as you say, you will let him.”

You listened and fidgeted as he spoke.

“And you will do things for yourself and for your children. If you feel like you can make a dinner, do so, if not, you will take a journal and write. These words are only for your. You will write about those you’ve lost so that they may rest and you will too. For every chore you cannot complete, you will write one sentence, or one page, or as many as you need to.”

“What do I write?”

“Whatever you think. Whatever weighs on your heart at that moment. And you will come back to me in two weeks to go over all you’ve done and I have faith that you will make great progress.”

He stood and tore free a page. He neared and held it out to you. “Take this to the apothecary and they will fill it. One drop in your tea, two if it is an especially bad night.”

You took it and rose. You folded it and tucked it into your handbag. You looked up at him and adjusted your cape.

“I’m sorry, doctor, I will try.”

“You will start by not apologizing for yourself. You have a right to feel and be. And try is all I ask.”

He smiled and turned to stride across the office. He opened the door and bent his head.

“Now, I hope a peaceful day awaits you and don’t forget, two weeks. You will make an appointment at the desk before you go.”

🩺

The drive through the city was quiet as Peter watched you worried from the corner of his eye. He didn’t dare to ask how it went as you hadn’t yet said a word but to tell him to stop at the pharmacy. With the vial in hand, he took your home and sat you at the table as he made another pot of tea.

He sat with you and sipped his own cup as you stared at the reddish brown brew. You lifted the vial and read the hand-written label. It was too early to sleep. You put it down and looked at Peter.

“It was… not bad,” you said slowly.

He perked up and sat forward on his chair. “Was he nice?”

“Very nice,” you felt the hot porcelain, “he listened.”

“And the medicine?” he looked at the vial.

“For sleep.”

“That’s good,” he uttered nervously, “you’re going back, right, dear?”

“Yes, two weeks,” you said, “I hope. I…” you looked at him glumly, “I’m going to try. I want to try.”

“I know,” he reached across the table and took your hand, “and I can help. I only want to help.”

You nodded and squeezed his hand. It was rough against your dry skin. You felt as if your body was falling apart from neglect. Your nails were peeling and cracked at the tips. You turned his hand so you did not have to see them.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You lifted your head and searched his face. You tried to smile but it was small.

“Please,” you whispered.

He came around and bent to kiss your forehead, then your cheek. You stood and shyly looped your arms around him. He held you tentatively and as you leaned into him, he relaxed. You were relieved to find the warmth was still there.

🩺

That night, Peter put you to bed and laid beside you. You wore a proper nightgown and the tincture dragged you down in a deep dreamless slumber. When you woke, you didn’t want to get out of bed but if you stayed, you’d feel worse. You dressed and Peter didn’t hide his joy as he readied for a day at the lab.

You ate together, more porridge and he left you with another kiss. When he was gone, you stared at the wall. You took the dishes and boiled water to wash them in the basin. There were only a few so your work was easy. You thought of wiping down the stove but once more felt the lethargic weight on your chest.

So you went to the bedroom and dug out the old recipe book your mother bought you as a wedding present. You hadn’t used it so the pages remained blank but for a single list of ingredients for stuffed duck. You tore out that page and wrote the date on the next.

You sat at the vanity you never used. Peter bought it after your first episode, thinking it might help you to have the mirror and place to store your toiletries. You held open the pages and dipped the pen into the shallow well. Most of the ink had dried up. You made a blotch on the paper as you tried to think of what to write.

You stayed like that and inked the pen again. Then you wrote the name. The name of the daughter you lost. Peter didn’t know that name and you never dared to speak it. She was the first one, at least, you wanted it to be a girl. You wrote that you wanted her to have Peter’s eyes and his sweetness. You wrote about him holding her and smiling down at her. Then, you shut the book and dropped the pen.

You began to sob and leaned on the vanity. You let out horrible, draining wails. You quaked until you had no strength left. You stood and watched your feet as you went to the bed and fell onto it. It hurt so much.

🩺

You tried to follow Dr. Rogers advice, tried to keep to your chores and your writing, but your renewed vigour faded by your next appointment. That morning wasn’t as hard as the first but Peter had to convince you to leave the house. He couldn’t wait for you as he was due at the lab but he gave you coin for your ride back..

You sat in the hushed waiting room and stared at the wall. The other women chatted with their neighbour or read the penny weekly’s left out for the patients. You rubbed your gloved hands together and counted your breaths. You felt that tidal again, the rising wave of nerves rising within.

When your name was called, you were taken to the same room and the same chart was left on the desk. You sat on the sofa but your restlessness had you back up on your feet and pacing. When the door opened again, you turned and stopped as Dr. Rogers entered with a knock.

“Hello, again,” he offered another stiff handshake and you accepted it meekly as you crossed the room, “and how are you this morning?”

You let out a breath and shrugged, “well as I can be.”

“Please, sit, and we can go over the last two weeks,” he waved to the leather bench and sat on his stool. He ignored the chart as he slung one leg over the other. He waited for you to lower yourself onto the couch and watched your hands you wrung them, “would you like some water? A tea?”

“No, thank you, Doctor,” you tapped your heels nervously.

“You’re anxious,” he said. You nodded and he did the same, “why? Did our last appointment go so poorly?”

You shook your head and stilled your fingers, “I don’t know why I am alight, but I am.”

“Mhmm,” he tapped his fingertips on the desk as he leaned his arm against it, “and your home life, has it changed at all?”

“I… I try to do more but it’s difficult,” you admitted, “I get so overwhelmed.”

“Have you written at all?”

“Some but… it makes me sad,” you explained as you folded a wrinkle in your skirt, “I find myself as I was, in bed with a hole in my heart.”

He considered and scratched his chin, his clean shave smooth beneath his fingers. “Your husband, he is… affectionate?” When you affirmed the question, he continued, “and you have made yourself open to him?”

“Kiss, hand-holding, embraces, but… I cannot…” you squirmed, “I cannot even make him feel as my husband.”

“You have a lot of emotions but speaking of them makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” he uncrossed his legs and sat up straight.

“They feel like excuses, like a delusion I’ve made up to escape my life,” you stared at the floor, “like I’ve lied not only to myself but the man I love.”

“You’ve seen other physicians for your maladies?”

“Several, yes.”

“And what did they tell you?”

“They told me I was healthy and that my emotions were of my own failure,” you poked your palm with your nail, “and I couldn’t claim they were wrong for I don’t know myself.”

“Do you take exercise?” he asked.

“Not often, not anymore,” you replied evasively.

“You go out in the sun? Open the windows?”

“No,” you muttered, “no…”

“I would suggest thought it is with your own will to take it that you leave the house once a day, for a few minutes, for an hour, whatever you can do, and just walk. You don’t have to go anywhere but I want you to see the sun and keep your blood moving.” he stood and cleared his throat, “perhaps you cannot see it or you will not accept it, but you are doing well. You’ve made progress. If I am being quite honest, I did not expect a second visit and that in itself is a feat.”

You pressed your lips together and shifted. He went to the end of the examination table and looked you over.

“Now, as this is our second visit and we’ve gone over the basics, it is my usual practice to administer a physical exam but if your are unprepared, we can delay it until your third appointment,” he said cautiously, “but as you’ve disclosed your difficulties with conception, I do think it pertinent that I rule out any biological barriers.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you sucked in air. The only man who had ever seen beyond your dress was your husband and even with him you were shy. Still, he was a doctor and he might be able to help. You doubted yourself knowing that if you had time to think on it, you would refuse it altogether.

“If you advise it,” you stood rigidly, “I would permit it.”

He bowed his head and pulled the corner of the sheet taut on the table. He backed away and smoothed his white jacket as he went to the door.

“You only need remove your under garments and I will return in a moment. You will lay on the table and I will do a brief exam of your anatomy,” he guided, “Is this to your acceptance.”

“Doctor,” you said and watched him go, releasing a sigh when he was on the other side of the door.

You removed your leggings and drawers and folded them. You climbed onto the table and laid on your bad, your legs clenched together as your skirts felt thinner. You waited and tried to ease your nerves. The knock at the door spiked your pulse and you assured Dr. Rogers you were ready.

He entered and you listened to him move around. You squeezed your eyes shut and he neared the table. You quivered as he came near and his hand settled on the hem of your skirt. He stood at the foot of the table and his shadow coloured your eyelids.

“We’ll take it one step at a time, I will let you know everything I do before I do it,” he assured you, “now, I’m going to have you bend your legs.”

You nodded and kept your eyes closed and bent your legs. He touched your knees through the layers gently.

“Now part them,” he coaxed.

That was harder and as you obeyed, you felt a rush of air slip up your skirts. Your dress rustled and Dr. Rogers held the hem firm.

“I will now have a look,” you heard metal and flinched, “and I will use a special tool to do so. You will feel perhaps a cold touch and some pressure inside but I will be quick.”

You only nodded and gripped the sides of the table. He lifted your skirts entirely and you gasped. You felt the metal instrument on your most intimate part and he pressed it until it was slightly inside of you. He bent over you as he opened you up with the tool and removed it almost as suddenly as he’d applied it.

“Well, I see no abnormalities,” he set the instrument aside and fixed your skirts, “nothing which would cause difficulty.”

You sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the table. You felt your cheeks burn but he seemed entirely unbothered. You reminded yourself how usual the practice must have been for him.

“I would also recommend smelling salts if you do not already use them for when you feel faint or overcome and I will have a diet plan for you to take with you. Those might help improve your condition as well. I think for now,” he neared the door and paused with his hand on the handle, “that is enough change. It isn’t about pushing yourself, it is about little steps.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you said.

“And if you require anything, you needn’t wait for your next appointment. If you have questions, you may come in and ask,” he turned the handle slowly, “along with all we’ve gone over today, you will continue on with what we established since our first appointment.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He smiled and left you again. You slid off the table and reached for your undergarments. You dressed quickly and as you stepped out, Dr. Rogers bid you farewell. You hoped he could help you, that this wasn’t another lost cause.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #peter parker #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #two shot #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #au #doctor au #mcu #marvel #spider-man #captain america #1900s #read the warnings #and don't be bitchin in my kitchen

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wowtobio · 4 years

Note

ello!! may i have some headcanons of Akaashi, Iwaizumi and Kuroo being protective and jealous over their crush?

Kuroo, Akaashi and Iwaizumi jealous and overprotective over their crush

oooh yess, i hope u enjoy! thank u for the request :)

Warnings: Slight cursing, suggestions and violence

Kuroo

I think it would be prettyyyyy obvious when Kuroo has a crush on you. All his teammates know, except for a certain tall half Russian Japanese boi. I mean we know Lev can be quite slow in certain situations. And his fellow team members can’t help but cringe and worry when Lev makes any careless advancements towards you

And you’re pretty surprised when he doesn’t feel the sharp glares being shot at from Nekoma’s captain every time Lev gets a little too close for Kuroo’s liking.

One day you casually visit the team, because you love to see your two middle school best friends practice and just love spending time with the volleyball team. Every time though, Lev gives you a big ol’ bear hug, squeezing your sides, missing the dirty glares from Kuroo and the worried expression some of his teammates wore.

Kuroo doesn’t like it one bit, it’s almost like Lev’s taunting him by swaying you side by side in his arms. Usually it would result in Kuroo just threatening to double his drills, and when Lev does not listen and continue to tease you Yaku comes to the rescue and kicks his ass.

But today was different, the bedhead captain felt more agitated today. Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe the tapping of Kenma’s game console has finally gone to his head who knows. All that matters is that Kuroo had no hesitation marching towards your side.

“(l/n)-chan! you’re so small and adora- AAAH”

You stare with wide eyes as Kuroo rips Lev’s grasp from your arms, a vice grip on the silver-haired male. A gentle smile is painted on Kuroo’s face that juxtaposes the tightening death grip.

“Oi, Lev? Aren’t we practcing now?” Kuroo’s baritone was low, his smile twitching ever so slightly as his hand grasps impossibly tighter on Lev. An inaudible gulping sound is heard from the wasian as he nods and struggles to make out his words.

Kuroo gives Lev one last menacing glare that stabbed straight down to Lev’s soul, practically impaling his heart so bad he wanted to scream in fear. The captain allows his libero to take over the situation, Lev shouts in panic as Yaku drags him away. You wipe sweat off your forehead and pray for the dude.

You raise an eyebrow towards Kuroo, his face has an unreadable expression and you struggle to make it out. No words exchanged, only his signature, sly smirk that made you weak at the knees and Kuroo was soon long gone, back to practice.

After practice is over, you walk home with Kenma and Kuroo. Light conversation is traded between you and Kuroo, Kenma preoccupied with his games per usual.

“Hey Tetsu, what was that all about with Lev?” You three reached your first stop in front of your home. Kuroo stops in his tracks, and peers down into your eyes deeply. That handsome smirk makes way onto his attractice face once again before quickly planting a chaste kiss on your forehead, your face turning a bright shade of red that matched your school uniforms.

“You’re cute (y/n)-chan”

Akaashi

Akaashi would not give many hints in both having a crush on you and whenever he gets jealous so good luuuck.

It can get pretty frustrating, but there are some moments.

Like that one time you were paying a lot more attention to Bokuto than you usually do. You had no ill intentions, you were just fed up that none of your signs were being read or ignored by Akaashi.

“HEY HEY HEY! I AM THE BEST!” The spiked ball hits the ground and resonates within the gym as you clapped and cheered

“Good job Bokuto-san! You really are good!!” That was the third time you praised Bokuto this practice session and for some reason it made the setter’s blood boil slightly, complex emotions were tunneling throughout his mind and body. Even Bokuto had a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he stutters out his words, making Akaashi even more agitated.

Of course, Akaashi is known to be good at hiding his emotions, which was why his irritations went unnoticed and you continued to pay more special attention to the loud spiker much to Akaashi’s dislike.

When walking home with the pair, you felt a slight tug on your sleeve that lightly pulled you towards a being. Your gasp was covered by Bokuto’s usual self praise as you realize the tug was from none other than Akaashi. You felt your face heat up a bit. Akaashi continues to grasp his hand upon the bottom of your sleeve, silently moving along and acting normally except for the sudden contact he had on you.

Whenever you found yourself straying away from the dark haired setter, you felt him immediately tug you back towards himself in attempt to keep you as close as possible without being too noticeable. You giggled lightly at his child-like behavior. How cute, you thought to yourself.

Eventually you arrive home safely and glance towards Akaashi, his eyes downcast avoiding your eyes. A giggle left your lips once again and you bid the volleyball players a farewell. It’s moments like these that remind you why you liked the silent setter, and it catches you off guard not knowing said setter felt the same, if not stronger towards you.

Iwaizumi

An absolute tsundere, he acts so outwardly when he’s jealous but denies strongly about his feelings towards you

His best friend being naturally flirty did not help at all, if Oikawa makes any sort of gesture indicating he wanted to date you oh believe me don’t be surprised when you feel the wind of a violent volleyball flying towards the pretty setter’s head

Or a slap to the face, a punch on the head, a kick on the butt, more inanimate flying objects depending on the situation

During lunch? A spoon or tray. In class? A notebook. The ramen shop? An empty bowl. Walking home? A tree branch.

Iwa also has some really bad excuses

“O-OIKAWA’S JUST DUMB!” You and Oikawa can’t help but snicker at Iwa’s bright red face and harsh, stammering tone.

However, there are more serious times in which case Iwaizumi will not hesitate to throw punches for you.

One day you headed out the volleyball gym to go fill up the boys water bottles. On your way to the faucet, you were stopped by a two of the delinquents of the school, both immediately commenting and feeling you up. You were pushed up against the wall, whimpering, empty bottles dropping creating a loud clattering sound.

“Awwh she’s scared, ahh get a load of this! You’re gonna be fun to play with doll~” You cringe at their words and attempted to push them away, yet to no avail as they laugh at your attempts of escape. Suddenly they were off of you.

Iwaizumi sucker punches one of the guys in the face, his back faces you as he protectively stands in front of you ready to pick a fight. Gasps were heard from around as the delinquents tsked and ran off. Iwaizumi yells after them almost chasing after them but you grab onto his arm, asking him to stay with you with pleading eyes.

Hajime’s intense gaze softens upon looking deeply into your (e/c) eyes and he quickly looks away with a light red shade on his cheeks. You thank him with a light peck on the cheek, laughing as his face grows even redder.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #oikawa #haikyuu imagines #bokuto

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9tzuyu · 3 years

Text

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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hamanihamare-imagines · 3 years

Note

Hi! Love your blog! Could you please do a scenario or headcanons for Samatoki, Gentaro and Jakurai (separately) taking care of their sick s/o? Thank you!

Hello! I’m happy you love it! I hope you will like these scenarios as well; I really enjoyed your prompt, so thank you for sending it in! ^^

Taking care of a sick s/o

Samatoki:

“Thank you very much, we hope to see you again.”

Samatoki excited the supermarket and in a not-so-slow pace, headed over his lover’s house. They had been feeling sick for three days now, and he was starting to get worried. Not that he would admit it, though.

He couldn’t understand why, but every time his s/o was ill, he felt his heart clench; he was willing to be him the sick one if that meant that they would recover. Was this what people called love? No, it couldn’t be. Sure, he really liked them, but that was that.

No way in hell I’m in love.

Sighing, he climbed up the stairs which brought him right in front of their apartment. He only needed to ring the bell once before his s/o came at the door.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” they said, their voice low and weak.

“What the hell do you mean? Weren’t you in bed?! Didn’t I say that you had to rest?!”

“But—”

“No buts. Go to bed, now. I’ll cook something for you.”

Their lover smiled widely before nodding and walking up to their room, they turned once to mouth a thank you and blowing a kiss to Samotoki. He furrowed his eyebrows, rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen, acting as if that action didn’t make his heart warmer.

After having cooked and placed the dinner on a tray, he brought it to his s/o’s room, and put it on their bedside table.

“Don’t force yourself,” he said, as he helped them sit up, “How are you feeling?”

“Still a bit dizzy and cold.”

Samatoki looked around and found a cover on the desk chair, he took it up and lay it on the bed sheet, “I can bring some more covers from my place if you want.”

“There’s no need, thank you.”

Samatoki made sure that they were covered properly, before sitting on the bed so that he could spoon-feed them. When they looked at him with wide eyes, Samatoki realized what he had actually done and placed the spoon back in the bowl again, and handed it to them.

“You can eat alone, you don’t need me,” he mumbled. He could hear his face burning and even if in the room there wasn’t much light, he was sure that his s/o had noticed his red cheeks.

“Samatoki, you’re very sweet,” his lover commented.

“Just eat already,” he replied, standing up and exiting the room; in the background, his s/o giggled at his behaviour. He went to the kitchen and placed his palms on the table, shaking his head.

Shit. It’s love.

Gentaro:

“Are you feeling better than this afternoon?” Gentaro asked through the phone to his lover, who had been sick for all the day.

“Not really, I actually feel worse.”

“My my, someone didn’t take their medicine, am I correct?”

From the other line of the call no reply came, and Gentaro could already imagine his s/o pouting guiltily.

“May I know the reason?”

“Its taste is bad.”

Gentaro could only sigh, Childish as always…

“If you tell me a story, then I’ll take it,” his lover told him.

“If that is all it takes,” he said and was ready to start, but he got interrupted by the other one’s voice.

“You have to come here, though. And no, I’m not joking.”

He laughed out loud, but eventually closed the call and got out of his house. When he reached the other’s place, he was welcomed by a warm smile which he returned. They moved to the living room, and Gentaro wrapped his lover with a warm cover while they cuddled on the couch.

Stroking their hair, he started to tell his story. He had invented it right on the spot, so he couldn’t really understand himself where this was going, but he knew that the main characters were two lovers. Living on the two opposite sides of the city, they met by chance in the middle of a summer festival. They fell in love at first sight, even though they didn’t even introduce themselves that night. However, destiny was on their side because they met again at Shibuya 109 a week later, and there their love story started.

“That’s not fair, you’re talking about us,” his lover complained.

“Is there something more beautiful than our own story?” he asked, patting their head.

His s/o hid their faces on his neck, to cover their blushing and this amused Gentaro very, very much. He didn’t tease them, though, instead he kept on narrating, recalling all their beautiful memories.

Jakurai:

Dating a doctor meant that whenever you felt sick, they would list everything you’ll need to take and some other advice to get better. This applied to Jakurai as well, because as soon as he heard that his s/o was sick, he had sent them a long detailed message on what to do and not to do.

Jakurai didn’t only text them during the day to check up on them, but he would also stop at their house for an examination. And so, for the fifth night in a row, Jakurai was sitting on his lover’s bed, stethoscope pressed on their chest and after on their back.

“Your airway has improved. Most likely in two days you will be fine again.”

“Thanks doc,” their reply was, before placing a kiss on his hair.

“You shouldn’t have any physical contact with people when you’re sick.”

“That’s why I kissed you on your hair,” they said, smiling.

Jakurai chuckled, and put back his stethoscope in his bag. Then, he started to search for his thermometer but couldn’t find it, no matter how he shifted all the things inside his bag, “I must have left it at the hospital.”

He looked at his lover, who was watching him confused. He brought up a hand to their forehead and stayed still for some seconds, before placing his hand on his own.

“Your fever must have decreased. That is good news.”

His lover was frozen in their place, as if that sudden interaction surprised them. They’ve been dating for five months, so Jakurai was quite amused to see that they could still blush for such a tiny thing.

“I’m sorry if I startled you. I should have asked you first.”

“N-No, it’s fine…” they mumbled.

“I will prepare dinner for you. Is there anything you wish for?” he questioned with his usual kind smile.

“Up to you.”

“Alright,” he said, before proceeding on tucking in their lover, “Rest while I’m cooking.”

The other one nodded and Jakurai, gently lowering himself, left a sweet kiss on their hair as well.

“Thank you, Jakurai.”

“Anything for you.”

#hypnosis microphone #hypmic #hypnosis mic #samatoki aohitsugi #gentaro yumeno #jakurai jinguji #mad trigger crew #fling posse #matenrou #scenario

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Your Choice.”

I am having a lot of fun with this arc. Writing it has put me in a good mood, so I hope you like it as well :)

He walked the halls of the Oxystation with a gun slung over his front hanging from a shortened tac sling around his neck and shoulder. He rested his arms and hands against the weapon as he walked down the hall. The gun was more of a redundancy than anything, if any unwanted alien was able to breach the hull of the station with the armored patrol outside than his gun was just a token sign of resistance. Of course, there was always the possibility that one of the patients would become violent and attack a staff member, but that possibility was quite low, even lower than it was in human mental health clinics. Only five percent of the mentally ill population was any sort of danger to anyone but themselves, and a large percentage of that would still, likely, never do anything bringing that number down somewhere closer to one percent.

With aliens it was even less likely, they weren’t naturally aggressive like humans, so when their mental health tanked, it tended to do it with extreme anxiety and something that looked sort of like depression, though the different species presented the illness differently.

Working at the Oxyclinic had been good for him. It hadn’t been long until his enthusiasm for alien life had come trickling back in, and his fear had been discarded like a sock with a hole in it. He had even offered to help with the oxytheropy that the psychologists were offering. If anything was gong to get rid of his lingering fear of aliens, it was probably going to involve spooning one.

A weird way to deal with internalized fear but there you had it.

The oxystation wasn’t just for the oxytheropy. Human and alien psychologists were taking the time to learn about other species, and put together differing treatment plans for their patients. There was a high turnover rate, and not all the people who came to the clinic ended up staying, not all of them needed oxytheropy, and not all of them would do well having it considering that some of the fear the patients had often centered their issues around humans. To his surprise, he found that a lot of it centered around the Drev war.

He looked down at his watch and took a sharp right turn down the nearest hallway entering the guard quarters just as his watch reached the hour.

“Morning LT.” Someone called and he waved a hand.

“Anything to report?”

“Nothing, all is quiet as usual.”

He ejected the magazine of his gun, and checked the chamber to make sure it wasn’t still loaded before racking it in the safebox as one of the other men stepped up to take his place on patrol.

The other group of men and women looked up at him from where they sat around a table playing cards, “Want us to deal you in.”

Adam shook his head walking over to his locker and pulling out a fresh pair of light blue scrubs, “No I promised the doc I would help today.”

The other humans shook their heads and rolled their eyes, “leave it up to you to want to spoon aliens.”

“Spooning aliens is a lucrative job. You should try it sometime, maybe you’d finally have enough money to buy the bag you’ve always wanted.”

“Bag?”

“YEah the nice one to cover your face.” he shut the locker and grinned at the car players to let them know it was all in good fun before turning towards the bathroom, where he changed and stepped back out. The scrubs were very breazy in comparison to his guard uniform and he shivered slightly returning to his locker.

It was important for people working on the ward to be completely unarmed, and for the humans to look as non threatening as possible. A strict list of instructions urged them not to smile with their teeth, and to keep their hands and feet covered at all times. He wasn’t entirely sure if the fuzzy socks and mittens were entirely necessary for that, but apparently some of the aliens interpreted human nails as claws, and some genius had thought that covering them up like this was very nonthreatening.

Looking in the mirror he had to admit it worked.

In his light blue scrubs and the fuzzy white mittens, he looked more like the easter bunny than he did a killer.

But then again, in real life he didn’t look much like a killer either.

He turned to walk out the door flipping off the people geering at him before remembering that he was wearing a mitten, which kind of negated the point of the gesture.

From there he wandered back up the hall and was buzzed into the ward after waving to the camera. He went through a few metal detectors which pinged on his leg, but they let him through anyway as he stepped into the hall and up to the staff room where the other workers and a few psychologists were having a break.

He took a seat in a chair and idly watched the TV.

HE looked around at the people who wore similar clothes as him and noted, not for the first time, that it took a special kind of person to do this job. All of these people were remarkably docile and relaxed people, and as far as he knew the vast majority of them had no shame. Despite humans being prone to cuddling pretty much anything and everything, its was pretty hard to spoon an alien and not feel awkward about it, but these people right here, they either enjoyed it or they were damn good at faking it.

Adam wasn’t good at faking anything so he was the former.

HE shifted slightly in his seat thinking about some of the aliens on the ward before his mind inevitably shifted to…. To him…. The alien that he dreaded seeing the most…. A big, tall hulking creature that wandered his nightmares and made his leg ache.

The Drev.

The Drev with eyes like the thing that had stolen his leg.

He put a hand to his head feeling a bit dizzy. He had only had one PTSD related panic attack since getting here, and that was only because he had been accidentally exposed to the Drev unexpectedly one day and without knowing that he was on the ward. It had been embarrassing for him as he tried not to let anyone know about his condition, but based on that incident he had been forced to come clean.

Ever since that incident he had been quietly forcing himself to get closer and closer to the Drev despite the psychologists telling him that it was perfectly acceptable for him to step off the ward if the Drev was on.

But adam didn’t like that mentality much.

He had always felt, ever since returning from the Drev war, that people were too soft on him. They always sat there and told him that it was fine and whatever he needed to do was important, that he couldn’t blame himself if he couldn’t handle something. They were all very forgiving and very understanding, but that's not what he wanted. At some point, he felt that it was acceptable to get up in someone's face and tell them that: no you aren't doing good enough and that you behavior isn’t ok.

He wanted people to ask more of him, not less, and he wanted to get better not stay stagnant.

If other people wanted to spend their days medicated and avoiding the things that made them hurt than that was their decision, but he planned on healing all the way.

It was a thought that he espoused only for himself and did not apply it to others.

Their mental health was their business.

Either way, he was going to make something out of this, and had slowly been approaching the Drev on the ward over time. He didn’t know if the Drev knew, and it didn’t matter to him so much, but he did have a bit of his own agenda.

The door creaked open, and one of the psychologists stuck her head into the room looking around for a quick moment before her eyes fell on Adam.

“Lieutenant, can I speak with you for a moment.”

For a second Adam’s heart stopped a little. Was he in trouble? Had he done something wrong?

He tried looking at her face to see any signs of displeasure, but she was a difficult woman to read, so he stood slowly and followed her from the room and back into her office where he took a seat.

She sat across from him at her desk hands folded together. SHe looked him over with eyes that seemed to bore into his sole, “How are you doing, Adam.”

He shifted nervously in his seat, “Er… I thought I was a staff member not a patient.”

“Just humor me.”

“I’m good.”

“Any panic attacks recently.”

“No ma’am.”

“Are you being truthful.”

“You and I both know I’m shit at lying.”

She grunted and clasped her hands together looking at him with a stern expression.

HE shifted awkwardly in his seat, “What” “I have… a mission for you, though it is one I worry might jeopardize your mental health if it goes wrong, and the mental health of my patient as well. If it goes right however I think it would do BOTH of you a world of good. What I would be asking you to do is…. Of questionable ethicality.”

That made him nervous. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean by asking you to jeopardize your mental health, I could be in serious violation of a couple of major statutes in my field, however assuming you do it willingly it might not be so bad.”

Despite his apprehension, his curiosity won out, “Go on?”

“Kanan.”

“Cannon, WHat?”

“No, Kanan, the name of the Drev on the ward.”

Adam shifted in his seat, stomach churning, “Oh…. go on.”

“Have you noticed he has a limp.”

“I…. suppose I haven't looked closely enough.”

“Well he does, and you want to guess where he got that limp?”

He had a pretty good guess, “The war?”

“Exactly.”

“And….. I suppose you think….” He trailed off

“He lost everything during the war Adam, his mate, his honor, his home. He is injured and exiled, and at this moment there are very few people in the galaxy that can even partially understand what he has gone through.” She leaned back in her chair looking at him, “I think, that having someone like you to speak with about what happened would be,.... Beneficial to both of you.” She paused, “DId you know that human and Drev psychology is surprisingly similar….”

He shook his head, “Well it is, and I think the two of you would recover faster if you had something to work on together.”

“With all due respect ma’am, my papers say I’m recovered.”

“The UNSC isn’t exactly known for their in depth medical reviews Lieutenant. I know they overlooked some things. Either way, it’s your choice.”

***

Adam stood in front of the door. His hands were sweating leaving the inside of the mitten’s sticky and unpleasant. He felt nauseous, but swallowed to hold it down eyes wide as he stared at the door. What was he doing? What was he doing?

He took a deep breath.

Not being a coward, that’s what he was doing. He reached a hand up and knocked on the door before he could chicken out. There was silence and the knock seemed to echo down the hall for eternity. He waited, and waited, and waited, and assumed at some point maybe he had caught the large alien sleeping, but then the door opened.

His human knee went weak, and it was only the prosthetic that kept him standing as he stared up at the huge, hulking figure.

Adam was, tall 6,2 to be precise, but this hulking behemoth had to have been around or over nine feet tall, with blood red armor, and four bulging arms. It stared at him with bright golden eyes that brought echoes of his past welling up into his ears. He felt as if he was about to fall over, but then the creature turned and trundled back into the room, snapping Adam out of his trance.

He was breathing hard, and he thought about turning back, but instead, he stepped softly into the room leaving the door open just as crack as he moved inside.

The room around him was dark, and the floor was scattered with crumbled pieces of paper.

A box of markers lay on the ground to one side. He looked down to see he was stepping on a discarded piece of paper, and stepped back to look down, realizing the drawing there was of a tree, with striped bark and spiraling branches. It looked like something out of a Dr Seus book though he recognized it as an Anum/ Anin coiltree.

He crouched down to pick the paper up.

He looked up to see the Drev had returned to the edge of his cot and was sitting down, a shapeless form in the dark.

“You mind if I turn the light on?” Adam asked.

At first the Drev didn’t answer, but then he took a long breath through those strange holes in his neck and managed a deep, rumbling, “THe colors are too bright.”

Adam paused then, “Well neither of us can see very well in the dark and, he held up the page, drawing in the dark can’t be easy.”

There was a grunt.

“I’m going to turn the lights on.”

The Drev didn’t stop him, and as he did the room lit up showing even more pages scattered over the floor, all drawings of Anin some of them sloppy, some of them, quite artistic for a species he hadn’t thought practiced art.

He knelt down to examine a few of them, “Not bad.”

He picked up one of the pictures to examine it.

“This looks like the valley between the volcanic belts.”

The Drev turned to look at him, and when his eyes fell on Adam, the page slipped from his hand floating back to the floor.

The uncanny deepness of it’s golden eyes unnerved him.

“You were in the war?”

Adam’s hands were shaking, but he clasped them together to hide that fact.”

There was a long silence between them, and then he reached down pulling up the leg of his scrubs to reveal the titanium construction underneath, “I was.”

The Drev seemed surprised and looked up at him.

“You were one of them.” he said it very flatly, and Adam suddenly grew very worried that the Drev would kill him in revenge for being part of the operation that decimated his people.

“One of your number killed my father.”

Fuck

He went to back away but the Drev just looked down.

He sighed very deeply, “You were a strong and worthy opponent. We never had a chance.”

His voice was not bitter, or hate filled. There was some measure of regret behind his words but not enough to constitute anger. And when Adam looked at the creature, he could do nothing but feel sorry for him.

He quietly walked over trying to avoid the pages on the floor and then, unsure, sat next to the large figure.

Adam was not used to feeling small, but sitting next to the huge figure of the drev, he felt very tiny indeed.

The inside of the gloves were absolutely soaking, and with some measure of annoyance he tossed them off and onto the floor.

He wiped his palm on his shirt, reached out, fingers trembling and rested a hand on the Drev’s arm.

“You want to tell me about it? I.. My people didn’t exactly take the time to understand yours….. Now that I think about it it hardly seems fair.”

The Drev snorted ,”My mother believed that war was supposed to be fair, but my father understood that there was always inherent unfairness in battle…. The two of them didn’t get along towards the end. I think I agree with my father, to assume that your species would abide by our rules of combat was…. Ignorant of us.” The Drev turned to look at him, “Your species is much more efficient at war than mine is.”

His hands weren’t shaking anymore.

And he realized that, when he looked at this Drev, He didn’t see much of an enemy at all.

But he did see someone broken by the war…. Just like him.

He looked down at his feet, and when he did his eyes came across another drawing. This one of a drev, It really only had an outline since it’s carapace seemed to be white, and the way it had been rendered with such delicate care, made it pretty clear to Adam who it might have been.

He picked it up quietly.

“You…. want to tell me about her?”

The Drev turned to look his eyes resting on the picture. Adam didn’t think up to this point he could read Drev facial expressions, but the welling of sadness in the creature’s face was so poignant that Adam felt his own chest tighten,

Damn the human’s heightened sense of empathy.

For a moment he thought the Drrev was going to tell him to get out, but, instead, he took the image and stared down at it, “Nechal…. Named after the moon….. She was the most glorious fighter I had ever seen in battle, strong, and graceful and powerful. She was not afraid to die, but she didn’t let that lower her guard. On the battlefield she was a goddess of war, and off…. She was…. Kind in ways that aren’t common among our people. I may have been attracted to her because of her fighting prowess, but I loved her because of the kindness she showed. Especially towards my sister… someone who needed kindness more than anyone I know.”

He took a very deep breath and when he spoke again his words were thick.

Could Drev cry? “In our people it is…. Custom not to mourn the dead who are lost in battle because their return to the spiritual realm will be glorious. It is a great honor to lose a mate in battle….” He looked down at his four hands, “But I do not feel honored…. I feel alone…. I miss her, ever day and every night I miss her, and I wish she hadn’t died…” He looked up and when he did Adam was struck by the expression of pain and grief on his face.

As if he was feeling the Drev’s pain in real time, he felt his chest clench again, and tears welled in his eyes. How could he not?

Anyone who didn’t feel the same must have had no feelings?

“I was exiled because…. I could not follow her into the afterlife…. With my injury I should have given my body over to the fire, and maybe then I'd be with her, but I just…. I couldn’t do it. I miss her every day and yet I don’t have the strength to go to her…. I am a fraud among my people, a coward and a fraud and….

“Hey! Hold on.”

The Drev went quiet and turned to look at Adam who was now gripping his arm tight in one hand.

“You think she’d want to hear you say that.”

That seemed to take the Drev off guard and he stared at Adam with some measure of confusion.

“You said she was kind wasn’t she….. Well then I doubt she'd appreciate you talking about yourself like that.”

He was quiet for some time.

“Look I…. I lost my leg during the war to…. To one of your soldiers and. It’s messed me up for a real long time. Hell you scare the daylights out of me, but I’m moving forward.”

THe Drev frowned at him, “Scared of… us… you won?”

Adam laughed, “We didn’t win anything. Nobody won, a lot of people died and a lot of people were crippled, and for what? I think about that a lot, for honor? Honor. Well maybe I don’t understand what honor means because to me, it would be something worth dying over.”

The Drev contemplated him for a long time.

“We may have won but we did it with scared soldiers like me, and broken soldiers like me. I’m probably never going to recover from the war. That’s the difference between you and me, you guys can make it through war in one piece but me…. Humans… we may be good at war but it destroys us.”

He sighed, “I guess what I am trying to say is, instead of feeling sorry for what you can’t change, why not move forward. Do something you think is worth it, do something Ne-” he stumbled over the Drev word, “Nechal would think was worth it.”

He didn’t know what he was saying, he didn’t know if what he was saying even made sense. Nerves had always made him ramble. He knew he was talking too much but he didn’t know what else to do.

The Drev looked down, and Adam. as was his training made a bit of a decision.

He shut up.

Which was a feat in itself.

Reached over and hugged the larger alien. His arms didn’t make it anywhere close to wrapping around him, but he hoped that maybe it would help?

He didn’t know.

He was kind of just a raging idiot most of the time, so his plans were usually half assed at best.

The Drev stiffened and then relaxed. Adam’s head was resting against the creature’s huge planted shoulder. It felt like hugging corded steel cables.

He would have to say that being hugged by something with four arms was a bit of an experience. Most aliens didn’t usually hug back, they were more the recipient of hugs, but it seemed that the Drev wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept, either that or he learned fast, and damn Adam felt even smaller encircled in the arms of the huge alien.

Kanan could have crushed him if he wanted, but let him go not long after to Adam’s surprise and relief.

The Drev looked at him.

He looked back

“You are strange creatures.”

He gave a weak smile, forgetting the rule about showing teeth, “So they say.”

It was a bit of a gamble but things had worked out better than the psychologist could have hoped. Drev are more receptive to self reflection than humans are. Humans like to internalize things, and their brains become obsessive. Drev have more control over their minds in many cases than humans do, so Adam’s encouragement for Kanan to do something his dead mate would think worthwhile showed results almost immediately.

To Adam’s grudging pleasure, the Drev seemed to be recovering faster than he was.

And was well on his way to recovering completely when the communication came for Adam one night while he sat lying on his bed next to Waffles, thinking about his future.

The pink roused him from near sleep and he sat up on one elbow to look at the time.

i t was only nine earth time, so he rolled onto his side and sat up, patching the communication through.

A light blue screen of holographic image filled his vision, and on the other side he could see Colonel Kelly sitting in front of him….. At least Colonel until he realized the star on her uniform.

His eyes widened slightly. He went to speak but she shook her head at him.

“I trust you are doing well Lieutenant.”

“Yes ma’am. I have no complaints.”

She nodded, “Good, good, I am sorry to intrude, but I am afraid this rest period is over for you. You are requested to return to earth on the next outgoing transport.”

He frowned and rubbed the back of his head, “Uh of course ma’am but…. Why?”

She stared at him long and hard, ‘I have a very important decision for you to make. It is one that is not going to be popular or easy, but I urge you to accept my request.”

He frowned and shook his head, “You aren't making sense, What is this all about?”

“Tensions are rising between our delegates and the GA, if we don’t do something soon, I am worried that this will devolve into infighting and eventually war. I have to work fast in order to stop this outcome, and you are the lynchpin that holds my plan together.”

“Me.” He squeaked.

“Yes, you, now Adam, be honest with me. What is your opinion on the GA and our involvement with them?”

He rubbed the back of his neck though his thoughts were adamant, “Cooperation wherever and however possible. We need them, and I believe they could due with being our allies, ma’am.”

“And if I gave you a job to try and reach that goal, would you take it?”

“I would do whatever I had to do ma’am.”

He was being truthful.

She nodded her head.

“Good then, it’s your choice at the end of the day, but if we act now, we can change everything.”

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snifflyjoonie · 3 years

Text

The Domino Effect

In which one cold becomes seven in the short span of a week.

snz-centric featuring OT7 as the sickies and OT7 as the caretakers, lol.

Word Count: 4715

a/n: Firstly I just wanted to thank you guys (as per usual) with how patience you all are with me. (Not just now, but always.) As some of you know, I had a pretty big move take place recently (as well as restarting uni) and both of these events really ate up a huge chunk of my free time. That being said, I’m happy to finally have this up and ready for you all! I wrote it...slightly differently to how I normally write, so I really hope you all end up enjoying it. Thank you again!

Day 1

It starts with Jimin — somehow it always does. He wakes up with a runny nose and a pounding headache; a horrible foreshadowing of what’s yet to come. He feels awful and wants nothing more than to spend the entire day in bed, but he knows it doesn’t work like that. It never works like that. Even with their upcoming week off Jimin is more than certain they’ll somehow manage to stay busy.

Reluctantly he pulls himself from bed and makes to get ready. It’s a slow and sluggish start, but it’s the best he can manage. At least he’s out of bed, he thinks to himself, as he stares at his disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror.

If the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, then it was definitely going to be a long, horrible day.

“hh-h! hhi’Ttshhiuew!”

“Hyung...you’re not getting sick, are you?”

Jimin turns in the direction of the maknae and frowns into his palms. His hands are still cupped around his nose from when he had sneezed just a moment prior, and he drags them down the lower half of his face with an annoyed grimace.

“That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the last half hour.”

“I’m not getting sick.” Jimin grumbles as he pulls a tissue from the box conveniently stationed atop the side table to his right. “I am sick.”

“You’re sick?” Comes a deep voice from the living room doorway. Both boys turn to find Taehyung staring at Jimin with a concerned look on his face.

“It’s just a cold, I think.” Jimin admits with a self-pitying sigh before blowing his nose. He had no intention to broadcast the news, but realistically he knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the group found out. “I’m okay, Tae.” He adds afterwards. “Just stuffy.”

Jungkook wastes no time hoisting himself up from the couch as Taehyung trudges his way inside the living room and plops down heavily next to Jimin.

“Sorry you don’t feel well, hyung, but I really can’t get sick right now.” Jungkook apologizes as he makes his way to the doorway. To Jimin, his apology truly does sound sincere which he guesses he appreciates. Jungkook was a magnet for colds in a similar fashion to himself so he felt like he could understand where the younger’s apprehension was coming from.

“Don’t worry, Gguk-ah.” Jimin hums with a sniffle as Taehyung presses the back of his hand against his forehead. “I understand.”

Jungkook nods back and offers a quick, “Get well soon.” before exiting the room.

Jimin turns his attention to Taehyung while the other’s hand is still firmly pressed against his forehead. The look on his face tells Jimin that what he feels can’t be very good.

“You’re a little warm.” Taehyung admits solemnly, and it makes Jimin frown again. He tries to scoot himself further down the couch away from his friend but Taehyung proceeds to lean in closer anyway.

“Tae, don’t.” Jimin warns as he swipes the back of his sleeve against his nose. “I don’t want to get you sick. You should go with Jungkook-ah, instead.”

Taehyung shakes his head and fully leans his weight onto Jimin.

“I never get sick.” He boasts as he readjusts himself until he’s able to rest his head against Jimin’s midsection. “So I’m not leaving.”

Jimin knows this is a blatant lie but he simply sighs in defeat. Besides, he would always get a bit clingy during an illness and admittedly Taehyung’s impromptu cuddling was actually very comforting.

“This is a bad idea.” Jimin murmurs, but he’s pulling a blanket from the back of the couch down onto the both of them. “If you get sick I’m going to get in trouble.”

“I won’t, therefore you won’t.” Taehyung reassures with a yawn which Jimin reciprocates. He had only been awake for a few hours but was already starting to feel drowsy again. He lets one of his arms drape lazily across Taehyung’s back. The other hums happily.

“Alright,” Jimin huffs as his heavy eyelids start to flutter closed. “If you say so.”

Day 2

When Taehyung wakes up with a scratchy throat and stinging sinuses the next morning he is, admittedly, not very surprised about it. He knew cuddling with Jimin was a risky endeavour but he also was aware of how touch starved his friend would get when he started to feel less than his best. Therefore, at least in Taehyung’s mind, the pain in his throat was absolutely worth it if it meant Jimin felt even the littlest bit comforted.

Taehyung waddles into the kitchen with an uncharacteristic sluggishness that doesn’t at all seem appropriate for 3:30pm. He’s still wearing the same clothes he slept in the night prior, and his hair looks like a tangled, unruly mess atop his head.

Three members sit chatting around the dinner table but the conversation is quick to fizzle when Taehyung enters. He can feel the three sets of eyes on him but he doesn’t react, and instead simply continues his way to the fridge to look for something to eat.

“Are you still in your pajamas?” Asks Namjoon with a wrinkled brow. He exchanges a look with both Seokjin and Jungkook before his eyes trail first to his watch, and then back to Taehyung and his rumpled appearance.

“I am.” Responds the singer as he directs a wet cough into one of his fists before tugging open the fridge door.

“Do you know what time it is?” Inquires Seokjin as he watches Taehyung dig haphazardly through the group’s shared fridge.

“I do.” Taehyung retorts, this time with a thick sniffle as he settles on a container of two day old jjigae that had been hidden behind a bowl of cold rice.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook pipes up warily, already having somewhat of an inclination about what might be going on. “You didn’t catch Jimin’s cold, did you?”

Taehyung slams the fridge closed and spins on his heels with a smile that stretches across his face insincerely.

“I did.” Is what he responds with before he’s sucking in a sharp breath and sneezing a harsh “hH’EESSSHHh’hiuh!” that he directs towards the floor. The jjigae sloshes loudly around in its container in time with the singer’s sudden movement.

“Jimin-ah’s sick?” Namjoon asks with raised eyebrows as Taehyung clears his throat loudly and drags his feet towards the microwave. “I had no idea.”

“Tae-yah now too, apparently.” Seokjin adds with a bit of a huff before turning his attention to the disheveled singer right as he sets his jjigae into the microwave. “Yah. Taehyung-ah. I don’t want anybody else to catch this. Where’s Jimin-ah? You should both be in bed.”

“Jimin is in bed.” Taehyung confirms as he watches his stew spin slowly through the microwave door. “We’ve both been in bed all day.”

“Well then get back to bed!” Seokjin instructs as he stands from his chair. He makes his way over to Taehyung and starts attempting to shoo him away, but Taehyung’s feet stay firmly planted. “Please, just...let hyung finish this for you.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to object but the beeping of the microwave cuts him off. He does his best to side-step his eldest hyung and pops open the appliance, instantly filling the room with the comforting aroma of warm jjigae. Seokjin can’t help but sigh.

“Finish your jjigae and then head back to bed, okay? Do as hyung says.” He stares at Taehyung waiting for a response. When the singer eventually nods Seokjin smiles wide and pats his shoulder approvingly. “If you need anything just text me or Joon-ah. I’m going to go check on Jimin.”

“I’ll join you.” Namjoon grunts as he pushes himself from his seat. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice he was sick.” He adds to no one in particular before he follows Seokjin down the hall. Taehyung simply shrugs and plops himself down across the table from Jungkook, coughing lightly into a fist as he does so.

Taehyung is too engrossed in his jjigae to notice the way Jungkook eyes him nervously before finally speaking up.

“I...should probably go.”

“Go? Where?” Taehyung asks with a sniffle and a light cough. He brings another spoonful of jjigae to his mouth as he waits for the maknae’s response.

“Anywhere else.” Is the best Jungkook can come up with. It makes Taehyung snort which in turn quickly morphs into a cough.

“I’m not going to get you sick, Gguk-ah.” He manages after his coughing settles. “You’re not even close to me. You won’t catch it.”

“You caught it from Jimin.”

“Yeah, because we napped together.” Taehyung scoffs. “You’ll be fine. Unless you had plans to nap with me?”

Taehyung can’t stop himself from laughing when Jungkook kicks him under the table.

“Just stay and finish your lunch. You’ll be fine, trust me.” He pauses to sniffle before continuing. “If you get sick then I’ll pay you ten thousand Won.”

“You’re making bets?”

“It’s not a bet if I know I won’t lose.”

Taehyung shoots him a boxy smile when Jungkook simply stares back at him blankly. The older boy knows he’s won when Jungkook takes an apprehensive bite of his meal.

“...If you get me sick you’re paying me twenty thousand Won.”

Taehyung smirks. “I’ll make it thirty.”

Day 3

The first thing Jungkook does when he wakes up the next morning is text Kim Taehyung.

I’d like my 30k Won by the end of the day.

He doesn’t wait for the other’s response before he flops back down into bed with a low, congested groan. He should’ve known better than to have stayed to eat with Taehyung. His hyung never won bets, but he had seemed so confident that Jungkook had let that confidence blind him. Now he was paying the price for it, but at least he was thirty thousand Won richer.

“...What are you doing?”

Jungkook twists his upper body in the direction of Namjoon’s voice but doesn’t break his gaze away from his bedroom’s bright overhead lights.

“I have to sneeze.” He announces quietly under his breath, as if speaking at a normal volume would somehow break his concentration. “You have to...sneeze?” Namjoon repeats slowly from the maknae’s doorway, to which the other simply nods. “...Please don’t tell me you’re sick now, too.”

Another nod. It’s all Jungkook can manage as he feels his breath start to catch. He can’t see the way Namjoon’s shoulders slump in defeat upon the realization that there was now yet another sick member to worry about.

“hhE’ATSHhhiu!” Jungkook finally snaps down with a sneeze he catches into cupped hands. He groans in relief as he straightens back up, sniffling thickly enough to make himself, as well as Namjoon, cringe at the sound.

Namjoon shakes his head and lets out a heavy, tired sigh as he eyes the maknae up and down. His stoic gaze makes Jungkook nervous and he can’t help but fidget as he scrubs at his nose with a sleeve from his oversized hoodie.

“...Not you too, Gguk-ah.”

The disappointment in Namjoon’s voice isn’t so easily hidden and leaves Jungkook feeling like a child being scolded. He can’t help but feel bad even though he knows getting sick isn’t his fault.

“We can’t have anyone else getting sick. Our break isn’t going to last for much longer.”

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook murmurs quietly as he lets his chin fall against his chest.

It was never his intention to cause the group any problems or to stress out Namjoon, and he hated getting sick just as much as his hyung hated that he had gotten sick.

“I’m not mad at you.” The leader assures with a warm smile as he makes his way over to the maknae and places his hand onto his shoulder. “Don’t get in your head about this. It wasn’t your fault.” He lets out another sigh and, despite his words of reassurance, it still manages to make Jungkook feel bad again.

“If you need anything, just...come to me only, alright? Same goes for Jimin and Taehyung. I don’t want this to keep spreading so I’m going to tell the others to give you all some space. At least until you all stop being contagious.”

“But what about you?” Jungkook asks as he sniffles sharply, his big doe eyes staring up at his leader.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll wear a mask and make sure to wash my hands.” He smiles confidently down at Jungkook as his dimples make a quick appearance on his cheeks. “This is ending with you.”

For one reason or another, Jungkook finds a bit of comfort in his hyung’s words. He already felt guilty about catching the cold, he didn’t need the added guilt of passing it along to somebody else.

“Now promise me you’ll stay put, okay?” Namjoon instructs with a warm smile. “And just let me know what you need.”

Day 4

Namjoon stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for much longer than necessary. His complexion is pale, his nose a soft pink, and his eyes glassy and dull. He wishes in that moment that he could simply wipe what he sees away, almost as if his blushing nose and sweaty brow were just fingerprint smudges on the reflective glass.

Finally, after he can’t take the sight of himself any longer, he drops his head and sighs in defeat. The sudden gravity shift makes his nose run, and he sniffles to try to contain it, wincing as the soupy sound reaches his ears.

He had definitely caught the cold, and there was no way he could deny it.

“hh’KTx’chieu! hA’NnGtx! hh!!—iNGxt!”

Namjoon can feel Seokjin set a hand onto his back as he blinks wearily up at him from behind a tissue.

“Oh, Joon-ah.” His hyung coos as he takes a seat next to the other. “You sound terrible.”

“Not as bad as it sounds…” Namjoon grumbles back before taking a deep breath and giving his nose a harsh blow.

Seokjin winces at the productive sound, and when he glances over at Hoseok and Yoongi, he can see that they each have a grimace that matches his own.

“How was Taehyung?” Seokjin asks Hoseok with a sigh, his hand never leaving Namjoon’s back as he waits for an answer.

“He was asleep when I checked in on him.” Hums Hoseok. “I left a bottle of water for when he wakes up.”

“Good.” Seokjin turns his attention to Yoongi, patting Namjoon’s back as the leader begins to cough. “And Jimin?”

“He still has a small fever.” Yoongi relays. “But nothing to be concerned about.”

“Mm, we’ll have to keep an eye on it. Has anyone gone to see —”

“Jungkook’s fine.” Croaks Namjoon as he pinches his nose with a tissue. “I checked on him this m’borning.”

“Joon-ah,” Seokjin warns gently. “Let us take care of things from now on.”

“I’mb not dying.” Namjoon scoffs, but it’s quick to turn from a light chuckle into a painful cough. “I can still help out.” He manages to squeak once he’s finished.

“You’ll be more helpful if you just stay in bed.” Seokjin chuckles. “Our hands are full with the other three. I don’t want to have to be worrying about you, too.”

“But you’ll all get sick.” Namjoon shakes his head. “I can’t let that happen. Our break’s alm’bost over and we’re going to be so— so bus-hh—! hH’nGXt’shiue!”

Seokjin smiles sympathetically as Hoseok and Yoongi exchange a quick, knowing look.

“Us getting sick isn’t something you can control, Joon-ah.” Seokjin notes as if Namjoon doesn’t know. “If it happens, it happens. Until it does, we’ll take over from here. You rest.”

“But I just—”

“—Need to trust your hyungs.” Seokjin interrupts before pushing himself up from the leader’s bed with a huff. Namjoon’s mouth stays shut as he watches the singer make his way over to Hoseok and Yoongi.

“I’m going to make everyone some lunch, but I expect you to try and get some sleep after you finish. Alright?”

Namjoon simply nods. He doesn’t feel like the leader anymore and instead, just a sick, exhausted dongsaeng. He wouldn’t admit it, but letting go of his responsibility as leader in this moment sends waves of relief through his achy body.

“Good. Now you two, come with me, please. I could use some help in the kitchen.”

Day 5

Seokjin wakes hours before he intends to with a horrible ache in his throat. He brings a hand up to rest against his tender neck and flinches at the touch of his own fingers. He sighs, but it isn’t out of annoyance, and instead more so due to disappointment. He knew this would happen to him eventually — it really was inevitable — but he had hoped he’d be the last member to fall ill. Now, his plans of helping his dongsaengs had been tragically cut short.

He lets out another congested sigh. At this point, it really didn’t matter. He was sick and there wasn’t anything he could do about it besides roll back over and try and get a few extra hours of restless sleep.

“Jin-hyung!” Hoseok calls as he raps his knuckles against the eldest member’s bedroom door. “Taehyung spent the whole night coughing, so I got him to take some cough syrup. Yoongi said Jimin’s mostly just stuffed up and that his fever is starting to break. Have you checked on Joon-ah and Jungkook-ah yet?”

Seokjin rolls over lazily and turns his head towards his bedroom door. Hoseok’s announcement wastes no time waking him up, which he supposes is a good thing considering it was now pushing 12pm. He opens his mouth to respond to the other, but instead what comes out is a series of low, chesty coughs.

“...Yah! Yoongi-hyung!” He hears the other call as his bedroom door begins to creak open. “Go check on the other two, please! I think the cold’s made its way to hyung.”

“Hobi-yah,” Seokjin chokes out between coughs. “Don’t come too close.”

“I’ve already been helping the others, hyung.” Hoseok chuckles as he shuts the door behind himself. “I’m going to catch it, but that’s okay. I don’t mind colds. I’d take one over the stomach flu.”

Seokjin doesn’t object because there’s no reason to. He knows Hoseok is right — at this point, him and Yoongi are absolutely doomed. He may as well just accept the help being offered to him instead of pushing the younger away.

The singer lets his shoulders slump as one final cough forces its way out of him. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, and each word he utters feels like hot knives are being dragged down his windpipe.

“Hosoek-ah…” He croaks. “Do you have any water?”

Hoseok is quick to nod and wastes no time pulling out a plastic water bottle from his back pocket.

“I brought this for Taehyung but he didn’t want it.” Informs the dancer as he unscrews the cap and offers it to Seokjin. “You should try not to talk, hyung.”

Seokjin nods in solidarity and takes a swig from the bottle. The water feels like liquid fire as it trickles down his sore throat, but it’s a pain he welcomes. Staying hydrated meant getting better quicker, and he would drink a hundred water bottles if it meant waking up with an unclogged nose the next morning.

“Thank you for this.” The eldest whispers, being careful not to damage his throat further. “If you two don’t care then I think I might make myself…” He notices Hoseok raise an eyebrow at him when he begins to trail off, but he can’t finish his sentence even if he wanted to. An itch in the very back of his nose demands his full attention, and it isn’t long before he’s thrusting the open bottle back into Hoseok’s hands and jerking away from the other as fast as he can.

“hH’DDSHHhh!” He sneezes hard and loud, each syllable of the expulsion scraping its way out of his throat. He whimpers immediately at the fiery pain that burns his windpipe, and glances up at Hoseok with watery eyes. The dancer looks as if he is about to speak, but Seokjin gives him no time to try when a second, harsher sneeze rips out of him. “HAh’DISSHh’iEuw!”

“Oh, hyunghyunghyung!” Hoseok bounces from foot to foot as Seokjin whimpers yet again, the sad noise mimicking that of an injured animal. “Your throat!”

Seokjin just nods as he brings a hand up to cup his neck, the other coming up to wipe away the tears that had been forced from his eyes.

“Could you…” He breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. “...Tea?”

It isn’t a proper sentence, but Hoseok seems to understand.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Yoongi and I will get that started.”

“...Honey?”

“And lemon.” Hoseok confirms with a small smile and a nod. “We’ll make enough for the others, too.”

Seokjin gives a small, strained smile of approval which Hoseok seems satisfied with. He reaches out and gives Seokjin’s shoulder a quick squeeze before he sets down the water bottle onto the singer’s bedside table and scurries out of the room to get the kettle boiling.

As soon as he’s out of earshot Seokjin collapses back onto his pillow with a sick, congested groan. Hoseok was a lifesaver, and the tea just couldn’t get there fast enough.

Day 6

‘I think I’m dying’ is the text Hoseok decides to send the members when he wakes up the next morning feeling as though he’s been hit by a bus.

Even the tiniest movement makes his body ache, and he almost wishes that he’d never be asked to move again in his entire life. It was at this moment that he felt he could understand Yoongi’s desire to be reincarnated as a rock. He entertains the idea for himself for a moment, but because he can’t guarantee someone wouldn’t pick him up and try to skip him across a lake, the thought is quickly abandoned.

A tortoise might be good, he thinks. Or maybe a sloth.

With more members now sick than not, Hoseok isn’t surprised when he finally wanders out of his room to find the others scattered throughout the dorm. Seokjin is making a fresh pot of tea, Namjoon is quietly reading, Jimin and Taehyung are watching a movie, and Jungkook is trying to solve a rubix cube. The only person Hoseok can’t seem to spot is Yoongi, which he supposes is a good thing. With their break nearly over in a mere few days it was smart that the last healthy member had chosen to keep to himself.

“So you’re alive, afterall.”

Hoseok turns to spot Seokjin smiling at him as he pours out a cup of tea. His voice is still croaky but not nearly as horrible as yesterday, much to Hoseok’s relief.

“Yeah.” Hoseok snorts, though he really doesn’t find Seokjin’s comment all that funny. “Looks that way.”

He averts eye contact when Seokjin’s smile turns sympathetic, and brings the back of his wrist up to scrub at his nose.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” Seokjin offers as he pulls a second mug down from a cupboard. Hoseok wonders if it will be for him.

“You too.” He hums, watching hopefully as Seokjin pours out a second cup of tea.

“Throat?” Seokjin asks as he passes over one of the mugs to Hoseok who accepts it graciously. “Nose? Head?”

“Body.” The dancer replies solemnly as he blows on his hot drink. “I feel like I’ve been run over.”

Seokjin winces and shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything, but Hoseok can tell he feels guilty.

“It was only a matter of time, hyung.” Hoseok reassures the other as he gives his nose another quick scrub. It is beginning to itch and he scrunches it up in an attempt to make it stop. “At least Yoongi’s still...hhhangonIthinkI—hhah! hA’ITSHhh!” Hoseok spins to the side and sneezes hard into his shoulder, doing his best to keep his mug of tea steady in the process. When he doesn’t immediately straighten back up, Seokjin is quick to remove the full mug from his hands.

“hAH’ITSHhh’EUh!” He sneezes again, this time bringing his now free hands up to cup his nose and mouth. The motion bends him at the waist, and when he stands back up he’s grimacing from the achy pain that shockwaves through his muscles.

“There’s tissues in the living room, if you need.” Seokjin says softly as he extends the mug of tea back out to the other. “Next to Jimin, I think.”

Jimin lifts the box up in confirmation.

“There’s lots to go around.” He jokes, before quickly pulling one out for himself and sneezing delicately into it.

“There won’t be for much longer if they stay next to him.” Teases Namjoon from behind the pages of his book; but the way he sniffles afterwards makes Hoseok think he could probably use one, too.

Day 7

Yoongi waddles into the kitchen at quarter after ten and wastes no time brewing himself a pot of coffee. He runs his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair and stifles a yawn against a clenched fist as he directs an acknowledging nod towards the living room where Jimin and Namjoon were sat chatting. The dorm is unusually quiet despite the other members being scattered throughout, but Yoongi can't really say that he minds. In fact, he welcomes the near-silence; it was a fleeting luxury when you lived with so many other people.

He watches his coffee brew with his elbow propped up comfortably against the kitchen counter and his chin in his hand. The fingers of his free hand drum rhythmically against the sleek countertop; it's a melody that he has been working on for weeks that refused to leave his mind.

The whole moment feels very serene to him, and is a nice reward after the chaos that had ensued during their week off. He lets himself bask in it for a moment, but it is unceremoniously cut short when his nose chooses to itch at that particular instant.

Sighing, Yoongi is quick to clamp his nostrils shut as the need to sneeze overcomes him. He sucks in a sharp, stuttering breath and dips forcefully into himself with a stifle that is almost completely silent.

“hi’Ngxt!”

He blows out a breath and straightens back upright, dragging his hand away from his face in a slow, deliberate motion as he pulls his sleeves up and over his hands. He has every intention to focus back on his brewing coffee, but an inquiry from Namjoon interrupts him.

“Was that a sneeze?” Asks the leader, which in turn makes Jimin’s attention shift onto him.

Yoongi simply hums in affirmation, a bored expression stuck firmly on his face. Namjoon frowns when he sniffles.

“Hyung, have you caught it?” Namjoon questions, but Yoongi can tell by his tone that he already knows what the answer is. “I was hoping it might miss you.”

“Actually, I caught something about a week ago.” Informs the eldest rapper as he sniffles again, his eyes refocusing in on his coffee pot. “Haven’t been able to shake it yet.”

A silence falls amongst the trio that lasts for a solid minute. Jimin is the first to break it.

“Are you telling me that I caught this from you?”

Yoongi shrugs.

“Probably.”

“Hyung!” He jumps up from his seat and directs a quick cough into his wrist. “This whole time I thought I started this. I can’t believe—” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?”

“You didn’t ask.” Yoongi responds nonchalantly as he swipes his forefinger beneath his nose.

He doesn’t notice the way Jimin's mouth flaps open and closed at his response, or the way Namjoon lets his head fall back onto the couch in defeat. Instead, what he notices is the way his coffee maker chimes in completion, and the way the kitchen fills with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He can’t help but smile to himself.

Nothing was better than coffee.

#bts sickfic #bts snzfic #bts snz #sick!jimin #sick!taehyung #sick!jungkook #sick!namjoon #sick!seokjin #sick!hoseok #sick!yoongi #sick!OT7 #mine

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fanficmemes · 3 years

Note

Dear CB,

I am happy to hear you appreciated my last letter.

Your words are always kind and warm my soul in these dreadful days of deadlines and indecisive weather still not sure if the first blossom of summer is here or if the ice will return in our homes. It also made me rest easier in my bed to learn you are now better, after the sickly days subsequent to the medicine administration.

You are now free of the burden of the heavy cloud of sickness still cover our cities, and it make me happy.

You told me you would have liked to receive the recipe of the pie i told you about last time, so i will write it down in a paper to put in the same envelope of this one. I already excuse my persona for the verbosity i will submit you, but the power of synthesis is not something the sky gifted me.

Hope my letter will find you in good health and sweet mood,

With love,

Soupy.

Dear Soup, I'm writing this with the greatest of joys after receiving your recipe. It sounds heavenly, and am quite excited to enjoy it to the fullest.

Just as you say my words warmed you, so did your words keep me through those pale and cool spring days. I reread your most kind letter while in my illness, it helped greatly with recovery, I assure you.

If it's alright with you, I shall attach the recipe underneath my goodbyes, as I tend to lose things with great ease and it would pain me to lose such a gem as this. And never worry that chatter while baking would ever bother me, I find it quite lovely.

I hope this letter will find you far across the waters between us, and that it will bring a smile to your face and joy to your heart.

All love,

Lemon pie recipe.

This doses are for a 22 cm diameter mold.

It is but a simple recipe, not so different from every other lemon pie you can probably find everywhere, but is the pie we always eat in my family, since sour lemons is something everyone of my affections love the taste. You can picture how much it make me silly laugh when i think about how my taste for the citrus extend also to my leisure reading times, but there are things we cannot tell properly in public, and i confide in the secrecy of our reading club.

The structure is the classic one, composed by a crust, a lemon cream and a sweet meringue.

For the base i am biased in using shortcrust, that better adapt to the type of cream and is quite easy to prepare, surely more than complex french pastry. Is of course understandable is a lack of time and desire to cook made you go instead for a modern storebought puff pastry.

For the crust you will need:

250g of all purpose flour

125 g of butter

1 egg

100 g of powdered sugar (also normal crystal sugar is good, it you prefer a more rough feeling)

A bit of lemon zest for taste.

Cut the butter and mix it with the flour, crumbling it till it reach a sable consistency. Add then the sugar, the egg and the lemon zest, and work with your hands till is smooth and workable. Is better to not strain it too much, or the gluten would form and instead of a crispy crust we would find ourself with an hard chewy bread. Let it rest in the fridge for at least an half hour. When rested, and remember to rest also yourself, work it in a flat disc or your preferred thickness and put it in an already buttered and floured mold. Cover with cooking paper and chickpeas to not let it rise in the oven.

The recipe would ask to cook it at a static 170 C° for 15 minutes, but experience always teach ovens are what of most similar exist in this world of hell work, so judge your oven history and control every couple of minutes so not to burn it to a crisp.

For the cream you will need:

5 to 8 lemons (and if your taste require it more)

3 eggs

150 g of flour and potato starch (usually i make half and half, but it can function even with all flour or all starch. All starch is advised if you will want to put the pie in the oven later to roast the meringue, since all flour will liquify the cream at strong temperature)

Sugar to taste

Separate the whites from the yolks. The yolks can be put in a pot, while the whites are to be put in another bowl to use for the meringue later.

Add the zest of all your lemons to the yolks (if you can find not treated lemon, if not this passage will be sadly skipped). Juice your lemons and add water till you reach 1 liter of liquid. Mix your lemon zested yolks, flour and starch and liquid, bit by bit, to have a smooth cream. Add sugar to taste, i personally add only two spoon, but i know the sour taste is not to everyone taste. Put the pot on low fire and mix till the cream become heavy and smooth and dense. Put it in the pastry shell. You can wait for the cream to cool a little, but be attentive at not waiting too much or it will solidify.

For the meringue you will need:

The whites of the cream eggs

200 g of sugar

I strongly prefer Italian meringue, being it faster to make and being myself in a strong enmity with the frenchs. Also, for a real french meringue it would be needed to whisk the whites with sugar and cook them for 12 hours at low temperatures. I know the latest kitchen programs make it seem like something faisable in a short time, and i will always resent them for this, but what they are serving in real is just raw meringue made with raw eggs, and for how much the raw eggs part can be solved with pasteurized whites, it would make for a more expensive ingredient.

For an Italian meringue, you have to put in a small pot 200g of sugar and a bit of water, just enough to wet it. It then have to be cooked till it make a boiling syrup. Be attentive at not making caramel instead, that would risk ruining the eggs. While the syrup simmer, start whisking the whites. When they start to be whipped add, while still whisking, the hot syrup. The boiling syrup will cook the eggs and give a nice shiny finish at the meringue, while the whisking will assure the sugar is distributed heavenly and the whites continue to whip.

When they are whipped enough to not fall out of the bowl if turned, distribuite the meringue over the pie.

If you like a golden finish it is possible to put in in the oven for some minutes, to toast the meringue, or pass it with a blowtorch.

My verbosity could make seem the recipe long and complex, but i can assure is quite easy to make, even in absence of big space. I do not live in a big estate like the ones of the nobles we are sometimes invited for a ball, as my preparing myself the sweet cakes instead of giving the order to a cook probably already made clear, and last time i prepared it i did it in a chopping board above my sink, and it come out quite good.

Hope you will find it as delicious as i find It myself.

With love,

Soupy

#asks #personal asks #soups letter #I’m so fhcking excited to make this pie #never made one of these #lil scary #but it sounds soooooo good #dhsjskskakaka I forgot that ur from like #the uk???#somewhere around there I think u said #my brain didn’t read ur voice w an accent until I saw grams #then I was like ohhhh yeahhhhhhh #I do love a good lemon dessert

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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years

Note

I'm so excited to see another Zelda blog here!! Could I get a Botw matchup please?

🔮 18 yo Bisexual Demigirl (She/They Nonbinary)

🔮 Chronically Ill and Autistic, with a lot of chronic pain and fatigue. Naps are very common for me

🔮 I’m not that athletic, but I do enjoy working out with my punching bag and taking walks. I LOVE adventures, but I sometimes worry about going on them because of my health.

🔮 Very short, 4’ 11” tall, with an androgynous build and style. I’m not very curvy at all.

🔮 Messy mane of brown hair that I usually wear in a low bun, glasses and lots of moles

🔮 I practice Witchcraft and Folk magic, and am a Published Author

🔮 Also a big science nerd, especially for Biology

🔮 I suffer from anxiety and intrusive thoughts, so I can be isolated and pretty melancholic

🔮 I think very deeply about things, and am simultaneously very smart and incredibly stupid. High wisdom / Low intelligence, I suppose, since I’m “wise beyond my years” but can lack common sense

🔮 I’m very excitable, open, polite and friendly, if not a bit aloof, flustered and socially awkward

🔮 I just wanna have a good time and enjoy myself, and I fluctuate between a good amount of confidence and feeling insecure

🔮 My entire personality is that I’m the sweetest soul to everyone, but I will go for the throat when genuinely wronged. Do no harm, take no shit

🔮 My love language is Physical Touch, though I also love making and giving gifts to people

🔮 I love the Arts, from Dance to Craftsmanship

🔮 Interests include Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, Moomins, Fantasy, Cottagecore, Mythology, Animation, Witchcraft, Nintendo games and Food

🔮 I love going outside, I can’t stand being cooped up inside for days, it absolutely drives me insane

Heyyy!! I'm super happy to join the Zelda blogdom, thank you for the welcome!! Thank you so much for the request I hope you like it!! You sound like a wonderful person!! Remember to eat, rest, and stay hydrated💕

I match you with Mipha 🐟

🔮Do I hear Witchy Cottagecore Waifus???

🔮You and Mipha would be a great pair because you both love the outdoors. I mean she lives in the water and she would know the best hiking spots near waterfalls and rivers.

🔮Mipha gets a little nervous when you go poking things that could be dangerous so she's always close by. She loves your curious nature, she doesn't love when you try to look at a fish or glowing coral and fall into the river

🔮 All you have to do is ask and she'll take you up a waterfall with her. Shes a little nervous because of your illness, but she's a magic healer so those worries go away pretty fast.

🔮 Any time your illness does happen to pick up or get particularly bothersome she'll be ready to spend a day in with you. She'll bring you food, hold you close, and use that healing to massage the magic into your aches and pains

��I headcannon Mipha to have skin like a shark, so a but rough but also smooth(idk how to explain it) so cuddling with her would actually be nice. She gives off a heat that keeps you warm in the cool Zora temperatures and she'll read to you as you lay on her chest.

🔮She's also not opposed to being the little spoon so you would get to hold her whenever you wanted. Sometimes after long days with the other Champions or having to heal many others she'll come to you and nuzzle against your side. It's like a puppy asking for attention, she's just too shy to use words.

🔮One of Miphas favorite things is walking around and finding you napping. It could be the most random spot and you would be curled up, glasses slipping off your face. She thinks it's adorable. She'll always pick you up carefully and bring you back to your bed.

🔮 Mipha loves to read your books and you can often find her rereading one or, if you allow it, glancing over pages you're working on. She loves your writing and supporting you any way she can. 20/10 supportive gf

🔮 Mipha would never say it, but she gets very nervous around you when you practice punching. She might die if anyone read in her diary that your strength and your dedication is very attractive. She gets this moony eyed look and once you grinned at her in between sets. She has never tripped over herself so much in her life

🔮She does worry you'll end up with split knuckles from punching and, no matter how much she loves how strong you are, she'll be right there with a light scolding and her magic touch.

🔮Speaking of magic, you both have so many conversations about magic. You could go on for hours comparing the styles of magic and what helps you get in touch with that part of you.

🔮You both learned how to make charms so you could pass them along to eachother, some even having secret meanings only the two of you understand.

🔮You both also have dates where you go out to collect ingredients for you magical mixtures

🔮Your love of mythology would be fed by the Zora Domain seeing as they're fish people and all. You could wander around the Domain hand in hand asking questions about the history and what kind of sea creatures live within the depths of the waters.

🔮Mipha loves to answer your questions and you always answer hers about your art, you taught her to dance once and now she'll drag you to glowing arches in the rain so you can dance as the lights glitter off each raindrop

🔮Your ability to stand your ground would be great for Mipha because she's not the type to snap at people. You like to come with her when she goes places because you get to adventure and if someone even thinks of being rude to her, you're right there to put them in their place.

🔮 Mipha can stand up to people when she has to. A member of the Yiga clan once attacked you both and the moment they got the tiniest scratch on you was the angriest you had ever seen Mipha. You were pretty sure the Yiga clan was actually scared of the Zora now after the beating they got.

🔮When you suffer from intrusive thoughts and anxiety Mipha will sit beside you as long as you need. She will hold you close and let you talk things through if you need to

🔮If your thoughts are scaring you she will hear them out and give you reasons that she would never let anything bad happen to you. She never tells you it's silly or that it's impossible, she'll simply help you find an answer to the thoughts that can dispell your worries

🔮 She's your biggest cheerleader and the two of you never run out of things to talk about it do together. Whether it's quiet time napping and cuddling, or going out on adventures, the two of you are always together having a good time

🔮overall 10/10 cute couple who makes you feel their love just by being around them

#botw matchups #mipha x reader #botw x reader #god I love fish wife #matchups

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

Photo

Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Well it’s been several months! Hope you guys haven’t forgotten about this little fic! I won’t keep you waiting too long! I highly suggest you read the second author’s note which can be located at the end of the chapter on either FFN or AO3 if you have any questions! With that said, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Huge thanks to @mitsukatsu for always letting me bounce ideas off of her! Thanks, girl! Hope ya’ll enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Thirteen

Though the sky was shrouded in near darkness, the full moon peaked through just enough to illuminate the scattered clouds that blanketed the night. It was eerie to say the least and even Agatha, despite what she now was, stuck close to Dracula as they made their way down an off-beaten path towards the small village. If her still heart could, it would be beating with such ferocity that her very chest would've felt the crushing blow of each throb.

"You're awfully quiet." Her mate commented, offering his hand as they stepped over a log. "You have nothing to fear. It is quite a simple process and I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to you."

"That's not what I'm afraid of you." Agatha said quietly. "I am not worried about my sake."

"Then what?" The Count inquired, stopping them both in their tracks. "This isn't about your moral standards is it, Agatha? We've discussed this on numerous occasions. I only wish what is best for you. I think in time you will see that. How much, I cannot promise, but it will get easier." He smiled gently and tilted her chin to press his lips to hers. "Come," he urged. "Let us not wait. Time seemingly moves much faster than one would presume."

Part of her wanted to say something. Outright deny any participation in this immoral act. But perhaps it was her selfish love for him that even made her consider the possibility. Why was romance so damn desirable? Holding her in a vice grip where eternity with her former enemy was a far more pleasant option than being without? Was this love sickness? Could he feel the same way? That only made it worse. The former nun sighed, trying to clear her head of such thoughts. So much had happened in these past few months. Her skull hurt and she wasn't quite sure if it was due to her fall or just the strain of it all.

"Ah! We're here!" The excitement in Dracula's voice pulled the former nun from her thoughts. She looked to the vampire, his teeth glinting in what little moonlight shone from the clouds. "It's right outside the city of Brașov, secluded enough that we shouldn't be bothered." He reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. "Fear not," he murmured. "I will be right by your side guiding you the entire time." Though his words offered little relief.

The village was nothing special, far from appeasing to the eye. It was small, perhaps used at most for those passing through or people making just enough to get by. Agatha absentmindedly dug her nails into the palm of her hand, feeling their newly found strength press indents into the skin. Dracula was speaking to her, but his words sounded so distant as she took in her surroundings. As a greater part of her wanted to turn back and return to the castle, an unexpected sight captured her immediate attention.

"No, please! I'm begging you! Leave me be!"

From the entrance of an alleyway, a woman stumbled backwards, her hands outstretched as if in some poor attempt to protect herself. Agatha stepped forward instinctively, but found her mate's arm outstretched in front preventing her from going forward.

"Wait." He said quietly. "Allow this to play out."

Agatha threw him a look of horror about to protest when a stranger strode out from the shadows something glinting in his hand. Without warning, the figure slashed the object at the woman's neck causing a gurgling choke of surprise to escape past her lips. Something sweet filled the air. The scent was more alluring than any blossom the former nun could remember smelling. Blood. Fresh blood. Human blood.

Whizzing, the lady collapsed on the ground, too weak to ward off the man as he began to dig through what little satchel she carried. Finally snapping from her trance, Agatha looked in horror at the sight before her. At the intense feelings that bombarded her mind after witnessing what she had just seen. How both her former and immortal sides were battling against her sanity.

Agatha's eyes remained locked on the man's as he stood unmoved just meters from her. With her new found abilities, even in the nearly moonless night, she could make out the thick, crimson liquid as he dripped down the shimmering blade. It was almost teasing. Watching it fall to the ground below where it became soiled by dirt.

"What are you waiting for?" A voice coaxed softly from behind, its excitement barely masked. "Go, I'll follow."

Yet Agatha's attention was not drawn to Dracula. Instead, her gaze briefly flickered to the figure lying nearly lifeless off to the robber's side. The woman's hands wearily grasped at the deep slash drawn across her throat as her life blood gushed between her fingers. An easier prey, she knew, but not one of good consciousness. If the former nun was to kill, then there had to be a reason.

"Two for the price of one." She heard Dracula say from behind. "The girl is merely a mercy kill."

They had different ideas about compassion, and the younger vampire's attention redirected once more to the man. The soon to be murderer. If it could, her blood would be boiling. A strange emotion began to fill her. Almost primal in nature. Her smooth teeth began to shift as she took a step forward towards the thief.

"Stay-stay back!" The man warned, swinging his knife shakily between Dracula's and Agatha's direction. "I'm warning you!"

But Agatha's ears no longer heard the desperate, empty threats. Nor did she feel the anticipation of her mate by her side. Instead, she lunged forward and knocked the man to the floor. Predator finally becoming prey.

Fangs cut through soft flesh like a spoon through room temperature butter. Instantly a flood of hot, sweet liquid coated her tongue and flowed down her throat in deep, hungry gulps. Agatha wasn't sure what she had been expecting. As a child, she'd once fallen and bitten straight through her bottom lip. Through the pain, the blood had tasted salty. Unpleasant. But now, here where she feasted, it was like honey straight from the comb. This wasn't the putrid taste from animal gore. No. No, this was far, far delectable.

"Agatha."

A hand clamped down on her shoulder but Agatha ignored it, choosing instead to keep suckling away at whatever remained of her victim. The grip, though gentle, tightened slightly causing an unanticipated low grumble to escape from deep within the former nun's throat. Finally, she sat up, blood dripping unceremoniously down her chin. She blinked, slightly confused for a moment as she began to take in her surroundings once more. Dracula smiled fondly at her, an almost proud sort of expression. Agatha blinked again and, looking from the dead man to her lover, quickly wiped away at her chin in slight embarrassment.

"I must admit I am quite impressed." The Count mused, admiring her handy work. "You took to it much better than I had anticipated." He ran a hand through her hair, his dark eyes flickering away from the body. "Now might I interest you in some dessert?"

The blood that bubbled around the entry wound on the woman's neck was already blackening with clots when Agatha arose to her feet. With great care, the younger vampire made her way over, careful not to step on the crumpled body. The lady gazed up at her with grey, uncertain eyes, each breath more raspier than the prior. Perhaps she didn't see the act Agatha had just committed, or was too out of it to even fully absorb what had occurred.

"Scared…" It was about all Agatha could clearly make out. "Please…"

Ignoring what Dracula could possibly be thinking, his Bride gingerly sat on the ground and cradled the woman like one does a babe. Her skin was grey, cold as what little blood left stuck to Agatha like a paste. A waste, she knew, but her own needs were none of her current concerns. She held the woman close, as best as one could for both being around the same height.

"There is nothing to fear." The former nun said softly, her eyes locked onto the woman's. "Soon there will be no pain. No horror. Be at peace with your Savior. Go now with God."

Her pulse stopped and Agatha watched the woman's chest rise and fall one more time before all with still. Gently, she closed both eyelids, covering the irises that reflected the moonlight like glass. She turned her head to see Dracula watching her, his expression hard to read. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she lowered the woman back down onto the ground and rose to her feet.

"She didn't deserve to die like that." Agatha finally said, not turning to meet the vampire's gaze. "No matter what you say, I made the right call."

The Count exhaled. "I take it you know your way enough to start walking back towards the direction of the castle?" Agatha merely nodded and Dracula cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose then I'll clean up for tonight. We can make that a lesson for another day." He smiled, trying to lighten the tension. "You did well, Agatha. Give yourself some credit. We'll have to celebrate amongst ourselves."

Dracula kissed her cheek and Agatha forced a small smile. She tried not to look at the two bodies as her mate gave her hand a small squeeze. Though she physically hadn't felt this great in a long while, the repercussions of what she had done had struck her hard.

Honestly, she quite yearned for the vampire's company as she followed the trail that led back to their home. Right now, the idea of being alone wasn't all that pleasant. Then again, crushing the chest of a human to prevent it from turning was far less appealing. So she went by memory, trying to push past what she had done until the castle was in sight.

"Foolish, foolish…" She thought to herself, the brush and stone crunching under her feet. "Just let it slip away. If there is some higher power that thinks I have done some good enough to deserve the least bit of mercy, allow me to forget for a few precious moments."

A humorless chuckle escaped from between her lips. At least Dracula hadn't called her out on her biblical speech. That had taken her by some surprise. But as a nun, the dying always seemed calmed by the idea that God awaited for them with open arms and complete, forgiving nature. She hadn't quite understood that. Then again, she hadn't quite understood much of that the more she considered it.

A pair of arms wound themselves around her waist just as Agatha reached the top of a hill. Dracula pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled. She could smell the heavy scent of blood on him, though it was far from pleasant. Corpse blood never did have the same effect she was beginning to pick up.

"You walk too terribly slow." He murmured against her skin. "If I were a fox and you were a rabbit, you'd be dead."

"Always lovely with your analogies." Agatha snorted, rolling her eyes. "And we both know I'm too wise to be a rabbit." She paused, hesitation in her voice. "Is it done?"

"As I've said before," Dracula turned the former nun so that she now faced him. "You are my true bride. I have no intention to turn others." Her eyes narrowed, pressing him for a better form of confirmation. "Yes. You have nothing to worry about." The Count exclaimed, admiring her in the moonlight. "Have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?"

Forget. Forget. Agatha gazed up into his dark eyes, taking in the lust and excitement that they held. She could taste the thief lingering on her tongue. Feel the dried blood from the innocent woman against her skin and on her clothes. Forget. Forget. She wanted to block it out. And here stood Dracula. Completely unaware, far too focused on what he thought was right. Was okay. In that moment, she needed him to help her forget. Wanted him to make her forget.

"Then show me." She whispered, his eyebrow quirked in surprise as she moved his arms to the straps of her dress. "You tell me I'm exquisite, but words have no meaning over actions." Agatha locked eyes with him. "Take me here. Right now."

Dracula's lips curled into a smile. "I did not realize how much tonight meant to you."

A blur of emotions. A tidal wave of feelings. Agatha bit her lower lip, glancing once at the night sky before back at her lover. They still had time. A few hours before dawn. They'd make it back. She just needed to be distracted. If just for a little while. Forget.

Agatha forced her second smile of the night. "Then let me show you."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #BBC Dracula #Dracula x Agatha #Bad Moon Rising

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

❛ FAMILY ❜

Headcanon.

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: Oooh yes yes yeah 😁 I show u take request 🙈 I would read something with Creeper dates a girl who already have 4/5 sons of a precedent relation. Maybe about how he create relationshion with their ? Like one love bike, another by playing football ? An the older is septic but one day he understand have Creeper for stepfather is having all Mayans for family. Sorry if it's sound to specific.

BY ANON

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.3k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on Google.

Masterlist.

Creeper couldn't believe you were alone in charge of three kids, when you moved onto his neighborhood. And he knew you didn't have a husband around because he had never seen him.

The problem was when he realized he was in love with you, with your scent, with the sweet tone of your voice and with that smile which could stop a war.

“Wait, wait! Lemme help you, mama!”

You hear a voice behind you, making you turn around from the trunk of your car full of bags. A man covered with tattoos and a helmet hanging from his forearm, is walking towards you.

“Oh, no, no. Don't worry. It's okay”. You mutter somewhat ashamed with a fleeting smirk on your lips.

“Nah, ain't nothing better to do”. He just shrugs his shoulders, grabbing three bags in every hand and greatly surprising you of his strength.

“Than—Thank you…” You just say, taking the three left, before closing your car.

Walking in silence straight to the porch, you open the door with some difficulties making you both laugh until it finally opens. Following you to the kitchen, he leaves the groceries over the counter, having one quick look but without wanting to look like a creepy stalker.

“I'm (Y/N), by the way”. You say then, raising a hand at him hoping it's enough for a formal greeting.

“Neron”. The man answers, narrowing it softly, a little bewitched by your touch.

“Can I… maybe offer you a coffee or something…?”

Whenever you two were free of responsibilities, you used to sit on your porch to share some drinks and talk about work, or about your lives in general. And only when he knew that it could be something serious, he just talked to you about what he really does, one bit at time.

After some months, more or less, hanging out, you two decided to introduce him to your girls. Two twins of six years old and a pre-teen of fourteen. You were aware that he wouldn't have any problem with Lia and Marta. But Carlota was another history.

Since Creeper has sat at the table, after helping you to settle the table, you can see the younger whispering and chuckling with that kind of gesture that they use when they want to ask something, but they're too ashamed. Narrowing your eyes, as the man does, you look at them.

“C'mon, girls, spit it out”. You say with a funny smile on your lips.

“Can we color your drawings one day?” Marta and Lia ask in unison, pointing at his bare arms.

You can't help but laugh rubbing your faces.

“Sounds like a cool plan”. Creeper nods pretty convinced.

“Fuck this shit”. From her silence, Carlota drags backwards her chair, getting up to step out of the living room.

“Hey, mama”. Neron says grabbing your left wrist, when you're about to follow her. “It's okay. Give her time”.

“I can't let her behave like that”. You grunt sitting down.

“She is fourteen, baby. We both know what her father did. And probably she thinks I want to replace him, but it's not. She will see it, okay?”

The months kept passing by, taking the next step when you decided to live together. At this point he has already introduced you to his brothers, being more kindly than you thought. At least, they didn't thought that Neron was fucking out of his mind, for getting related with a woman with three kids.

Lia and Marta were delighted having him at home, playing with them whenever he had five minutes, or cooking pancakes on Sundays. And of course, letting your girls color all his tattoos.

Carlota, by the other hand, started to be hard-nose. Always locking herself in her dorm when she was at home. And it was breaking your heart, trying to talk with her about what was bothering her, even if you already knew. But the worst part was when the principal of his highschool called you to tell you about a fight that involucred your daughter with another three girls.

“Hey, mama, I got this, okay?”

What you didn't know is that Neron was already conscious about what was happening. So he was to take care of that business.

Your daughter was sitting on a bench in the peak time of finishing classes, crying unconsolable with her hands covering her burning face. She wasn't expecting the loud buzz coming closer, raising her blurry gaze to the road. Nine motorbikes made their appearance, getting parked backwards next to the sidewalks. The whole student body with their parents and some teachers turned at them, mostly whispering about how good those nine men looked. Taking off their helmets, Neron's brothers waited for him, having some cigs, while he started to walk towards your surprised daughter.

As soon as he was able to kneel close to her, he knew by just one look who were the other girls. He didn't say anything, standing up to lead his steps to the three families with their eyes fixed on the man.

“I know that your daughters are teasing my kid about me, about my club and about what we do. So, lemme tell you something, as parents you are, the only thing you want is the happiness of them. Keep it in mind. Because next time my kid comes back home crying, I will not be this… polite”.

The girls were trembling, hiding behind their parents who were terrified too because of his words. Showing them a fake smile, Neron turned around to your daughter to make her a sign.

“I want you to say ‘sorry’ to her, and promise that you will never gonna fuck her up again”.

“Sir, yo—”.

“Shut the fuck up, man. I'm talking to your ill-bred kids”.

“We… We're so—sorry, Carlota”.

Your daughter looked at him, clinging to his arm, pouting a little and pulling him back.

“Good. Never forget to be kind”.

That night, Carlota didn't stop talking about how scared everyone was because of Creeper, totally freaking out too about when he appeared with his brothers in such cool motorbikes.

It was almost two am when your boyfriend came from the clubhouse, a little tired and needed for a cold beer. Taking off his boots at the entrance, to not be noisy, he walks straight to the kitchen to grab one from the fridge. Opening it with not much difficulty, he has a sip turning to the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Jesus fucking christ, Carlota…” He whispers with his heart racing. “What you doin'ere?”

“I couldn't sleep”. She just says, having another spoon of ice cream.

“At least, turn on the lights… You're gonna gimme a heart attack, kid”.

She laughs low, shaking her head, before getting up from the stool. Walking towards him without saying a single word, your daughter hugs Creeper wrapping his waist with both arms.

“Thank you for today”. She mutters resting her cheek on his chest.

Your boyfriend doubts for a second, not knowing if it's real or an illusion, but it feels so good that he could help her somehow. Hugging her back, the man kisses her head, smiling like a fool. Being happy to see that she's finally accepting him in her family.

“Listen, Carlota…” He says then, pulling himself away to leave the beer over the counter. “I don't wanna replace anyone, okay? We don't have to play this dad and daughter game. I wanna be your friend, I want you to trust me and talk to me about your problems, if you have some, okay?”

“Okay”. She just says. “I'm sorry if I hurt you ever”.

“Nah, it's okay, kid. I just want you to be happy”.

“I am, Creep'”.

✨ Tag list:

@starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @claytoncardenasbabymama @thesandbeneathmytoes @phoenixhalliwell @thewarriorprincessxo @sugary-x-sweet @multiyfandomgirl40 @imanerdychubbyqueen @iambabyharry @firebenderwolf @itsanofrommesir @noz4a2 @peaches007 @edonaspanca @irenne-stans @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes

If you want to be tagged, send me a message!

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #neron creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas

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