#I’m genuinely sick with like a cold or flu and I hate it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snexy-the-snail · 1 month

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I love how soft your writing is! Reading one of your stories is like curling up in a blanket :3 I don’t know much about Percy Jackson but I have writing prompt/one shot idea if you’re up to it!

Percy ends up coming down with like the flu or something and Triton, who’s unfamiliar with human sicknesses, ends up freaking out thinking it’s something serious. He has the overwhelming urge to take care of his sick brother, and goes into super soft and gentle big brother mode and ends up nomming him and fussing over his well being. Meanwhile Percy is like “dude I’m not dying I promise” XD

AHHHH Thank you so much!??? ANd ABSOLUTELY I am always up for prompts-

And yesses this is the easiest because Triton A. doesn’t go on land very often meaning the last time her heard of the flu it was genuinely a huge ass threat, it doesn’t help that Percy can be a big baby about being sick-

I just love the sea fam all adoring Percy like it’s legit an addiction at this point))

Percy groans laying on a bench, sniffling in misery. He hated getting sick, water didn’t technically take it all away even if it did make him feel a little better. Having said that this headache was absolutely killing him. “I’m dying” he whines, scowling when Annabeth laughs lightly, sitting by a tree working on some architect designs. “I told you to go lay in your cabin seaweed brain.” She teases Percy squeezing his eyes shut trying to ignore the scratches of pencil on paper.

“Ugh but that means leaving you alone.” He grumbles, coughing heavily causing him to groan again. “I need like- like mom’s cookies and some orange juice.” he cracks his eyes open to look at his girlfriend, huffing when she hums not even looking up from her drawing pad. “Do you even care that I’m dying?”

“You’re WHAT!? Why haven’t you been taking to your healers? Perseus! We talked about caring for yourself!”

Percy yelps falling off the bench groaning when he hits the ground. “Oh-ah..hey Triton?” He says clearing his throat before practically hacking up a lung. He winces knowing that he wasn’t exactly going to be let out of his brother's sight for a decent time. “Don’t you ‘Hey Triton’ me! You are dying and you’re- UGH You’re infuriating!” Percy isn’t too surprised to feel hands sitting him up, humming at the chill from the god’s hands. He forgot how cold Triton was and it was blissful.

“I told him to go to the med bay.” Annabeth pipes up, finally looking up from her sketch pad. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Oh. Oh, she had totally planned this hadn’t, see? Staying quiet to keep him complaining- “You’re despicable wise girl.” He hisses out.

Triton made a noise that Percy knew meant he was about to be totted around like a helpless toddler. “Wait! Wait, I’m not dying I’m actually fine- haha right? Just a little cold right Annabeth?” he hisses out looking pointedly at his girlfriend. He can’t help but relax more as Triton tucks him more against his body, the coolness of the god nearly making him melt. Deep sea coldness was bliss when you were sick, who knew?

“I don’t know Lord Triton, you heard him, he’s dying.” Annabeth says sweetly, glancing at Percy with a smirk. He groans knowing fully that he is going to be smothered for the next few hours. Triton makes that weird, strangling noise again, causing him to roll his eyes as he was picked up like a tired toddler. It was slightly nice, not that he would ever admit it.

“Not dying!”

“You’re practically burning up! Why haven’t you- brother we spoke about this." Triton groans, holding Percy close to his chest. Percy letting out a low breath as his brother started walking towards the water. “Get better soon Percy.” Annabeth calls cheerfully.

Jerk. He’d get his revenge.

“The water isn’t gonna help I already tried that.” Percy grumbles closing his eyes as he leans more against his brother. The coolness was combating the fever he had been sporting for a few hours now. He swore it even was making his headache ease up. His nose wrinkles up when Triton stops suddenly causing him to let out a small whine. It was embarrassing being so- well childish near the god, but Triton never seemed to mind. The god let an apologetic murmur out, a hand running through his hair lightly tugging out any tangles.

“Of course you have... What ails you little brother?”

“Just the flu”

Percy yelps when he's suddenly set down, his brother putting his hands on both his cheeks and staring at him intently with horror. “You hAVE WHAT!? Pereus! This is serious! Why haven’t you been in bed or resting- brother why haven’t you come to the palace for our healers!”

Well..that was new. Percy hadn’t expected Triton to be this worried. “Woah, woah hey! It’s alright I promise I’ve had it before.” He says patting his brother’s hands, holding in a round of coughing. He had a feeling that wouldn’t help his case. “That brings me no comfort little brother. This Influenza is a dangerous matter, I have seen its effects.” Triton’s tone was seriously starting to freak him out. This was as bad as the time he got back from Tartarus. He swore Poseidon hadn’t technically left him alone for a hot second.

“It’s different now, it's like- ah more inconvenience than anything I promise.” Percy offers his half-brother a reassuring smile, grabbing the God’s hands and taking them from his cheeks. Yeah, no that felt worse- he quickly put his brothers' hands back on his face humming at gentle coolness. “How it is simply an inconvenience if you are positively burning up.” Triton fusses, once again scooping him up into his arms. At this point he was too tired to care and honestly it was nice having someone other than his mother to soothe him. “Don’t take me to dad please I just... I feel like I'd be better up here.” He grumbles instead closing his eyes,

Triton sighed heavily and they were moving again. The blissful coolness of his brother’s body soothing his fever. He hums quietly pressing closer against his brother, tucking his head in the crook of the god’s neck.

“You truly have no concept of calling for aid, do you?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“And last time it was just a few monsters, or just a nightmare, it’s always just something Perseus.” Triton looks down at him with concern, Percy grimacing and ducking his face further into the crook of his brother’s neck. It was different with his mom; he didn't lie to her per say but..he left a few details out. She wouldn’t understand. Not truly.

“Because it’s nothing, I can get through it I always do.” He mumbles, relaxing once Triton steps into the cabin. The sea salt air washing over him in a soothing matter. The fountain in the middle expands drastically until it’s more of a small swimming pool. Triton steps in, his arms still wrapping around his body protectively.

“You aren’t anymore.”

That stung. He stays quiet until he dissolves into a wave of coughing, pushing back slightly from Triton, wheezing as he tried to get some air into his lung after the fit. Hands press into his back rubbing soothing circles, his brother murmuring something in Atlantean. “Let us take care of you now that we’re allowed little brother.” Percy bites his lip, trying to sink lower into the water to avoid any eye contact with the God. Allowed too was a funny thought. They hadn’t been allowed too, not at first. Less for Amphitrite and Triton but they hadn’t been his biggest fans until his little trip to Atlantis. Something about him screaming in his sleep and wailing.

Embarrassing stuff to sum up. Things he had tried so hard to hide from everyone else but for some reason stubbornly came to the surface when at Atlantis. He winces when Triton tilts his chin up forcing him to look into the God’s eyes. He always felt so small in any of the sea family’s presence...didn’t help that half the time they were physically larger.

“I’m fine Triton, I promise.” He ignores how his voice cracks. Relief floods his system when the god lets an annoyed sigh out before guiding him closer, the water cooling down as he did so. It had no right to feel as good as it did. Percy practically collapsed against his half-brother struggling to keep his eyes open. A hand starts carding through his hair, brushing strands away from his face. “Little brother...you look nowhere near ‘fine’ right now..please cease your stubbornness for even just a minute.”

He would've stuck his tongue out in protest but being in cool water combined was making him sleepy, not only that he was sure Triton was going to make sure that he stayed laying down. Instead, he stubbornly stayed quiet, keeping his eyes closed as he focused on the blissful chill the water and his brother brought.

“You’re merely a child...so rest. You’ve done so much for the world, allow yourself to rest little brother.”

Percy decided to not comment on the fact he was being shifted in a very suspicious manner that most likely meant that Triton was getting to his godly height. He whines when the support shifts from leaning a glint his brother's body to just what he was guessing was his brother’s hand. Ugh that totally meant he was getting one ticket to tummy town then.

Triton apparently took this as compliance because the next thing he knew he was being lifted up into the air, water trickling down into the fountain turned pool. He lets a tired breath out letting his body be guided, his feet pressing into a chill that started to envelope his body. He cracks his eyes open, huffing as he his legs slowly

passed between his brother’s teeth. They were less shark like than usual which was odd..ugh he’d ask later his vision was blurring just from thinking now. Lazily he sticks his arms up as Triton swallows firmly his legs being drawn into his throat. A small whine draws from him, Percy a tad surprised to get a croon back. The vibrations tickled him as the noise washed over his senses.

He closes his eyes against mischievously patting triton’s upper lip, smiling victoriously as he feels it twitch upwards. Ha! At least he wouldn’t have to deal with serious Triton after this whole thing. He lets a breath out mentally preparing himself as Triton swallowed again, the sound rolling over him as he’s sucked inside his brother’s mouth. He knew if he opened his eyes a soft glow would great him but..he couldn’t stand the idea of opening his eyes now.

Maybe it would be nice to just..rest. The muscles roll over him invitingly pulling his body further down. The rhythmic pulling further relaxed his body. When was the last time this week he had actually gotten rest? If he wasn’t currently being supported by the surrounding environment, he was sure his head would roll to the side. His feet hit open air, and soon he plops inside the larger chamber. A small breath escapes him as his lungs are free from the firm pressure of muscle. It was still gross he decided but...the chill and rippling of plush stomach walls was oddly inviting.

“Rest little brother, there is no reason for you to not. Your friends and betrothed are safe...there are no fights to be won, just rest.”

Triton’s voice is soothing like waves on the shore. The image of water gently rolling across the sandy beaches helpfully dancing in his mind. It wasn’t like Triton was wrong either, everyone was at their camps safe..there wasn’t a battle to prepare for it was just...Quiet.

“She’s, my girlfriend.” He mumbles in protest, scowling when a chuckle slides him around gently in a swaying motion. They had the argument multiple times, and he could practically see the fond smile on Triton’s face.

“Yes yes, your girlfriend.” His brother appeases him. Percy snorting and leaning against the welcome touch of his brother’s hand through layers of muscle. The familiar circular motion making him hum, trying not to fall asleep right there and then. Things started to blur together, more so when Triton, the bastard, started humming an old Atlantean lullaby that seemed vaguely familiar.

Oh well sleep would be good for being sick...

#safe vore #asks are good #pjo vore #extreme cuddling #protective vore #comfort vore #endosoma

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v-anrouge · 2 months

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Day three of sendin love! I’m kinda sick right now so let do sick headcannons

Vil probably rarely gets sick cause he takes such good care of himself but it does happen sometimes. He hates it, he tries to push through for a bit before calling out and boarding himself into his dorm room. He isn’t leavening his dorm until he is better! He has many potions on hand, so he also doesn’t stay sick for long. He tends to chug a potion, eat some good food and rest up. Only a select few are allowed to see him when sick, his dad, rook, and you of course! His beloved! He doesn’t want you to stay too long though so you can avoid being sick! But he does swear he gets better every time you bring him some food and water.

Rook ignores his sickness, hides it and goes about like he’s fine. It take a lot to get him to honestly rest, only a really bad sickness will get him to truly rest. And he hates it! He’s like a grumpy kid who wants to get up and play when they have the flu. Needs to be babysat to be kept in bed, but he does take his medicine and vitamins without complaint. He hates it the most when his ears get clogged, cause he uses his ears a lot to tell where people are. He gets a bit jumpy when sick, and only you or Vil are allowed near him when sick. Sometimes Trey, but he’s only alllowed to drop things off, no long visits!

Epel is used to colds, or small sicknesses. Being in the north means he has a strong immune system for the cold, but whenever he gets wet or it rains he gets a cold and sniffles. He just shoves a scarf over his nose and mouth, and keeps going. Vil eventually locks him in his bedroom, and Epel angrily eats his apples. He drinks hot apple cider for most of his sickness, and eats a lot of porridge. Believer in the BRAT diary when sick, bananas, rice, apple sauce, and toast. Epel rarely gets truly sick, but his colds can last awhile even if they’re just a cough and sniffles.

I Hope YOURE doing okay, and taking your time for yourself! When you ever come back, I’ll be here with a lot of ideas to talk about! Feel better!

im loving ur asks so much😭

vil overworking himself even when sick :( sighs he's always looking after ppl but when it comes to himself he really can neglect himself, i imagine the only person that really took care of vil when sick was his father so he feels a bit embarrassed having someone see him like that, and a bit insecure, he thinks he must look like a pitiful mess but honestly? he looks cute with his red little nose and sleepy expression

ROOK BEINF STUBBORN IS SO REAL he feels too vulnerable so it's hard for him :( him only allowing vil and his lover to see him is so real😭 its especially hard for rook because he feels weak and small and he can't even cuddle it out with you because he doesn't want to get you sick :( plus he loses the kisses:(( he can't wait till he gets better

epel def wipes his nose with his sleeves and vil WANTS HIM DEAD for it😭 epel is another cutie when sick and he fucking hates it, for the funnies im gonna say epel sneezes like a kitten sometimes and other times he sneezes so loud people genuinely get scared

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toodamnloyal · 2 years

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@notabirdnotaplane Continued

Superman was by no means a vampire (*cough cough tssk tssk*), but his sensitive hearing did allow him to tell when a person was nervous or lying by way of their body’s reactions… like this person’s speeding heartbeat.

Now Superman knew his rapid heartbeat could simply be a case of awe within his presence… but given the fact that he was staring at Clark Kent… something definitely was up.

“Of course I remembered, Kent. Don’t you know you’re my third favorite employee at the Daily Planet - behind Lois and Jimmy; I’m sure you’d understand my ranking.”

He saw his doppelgänger sneeze, and he knew it was fake given the fact he heard no congestion within his lungs - still, he played along.

“Oh, it takes a lot more than a human cold to get me sick. Would you like my medical staff to check you over? It’s completely complimentary and you would be in the hands of the best of the best.”

He wrapped a firm arm around his shoulder, speaking in a more hushed voice:

“Between you and me, these people are the same guys that stitch up Batman when he gets hurt. But keep that between you and me, okay?”

Superman’s main goal with his words was to get this person away from the crowds of gathered reporters and somewhere behind closed doors, so he could ask him his questions more directly.

“Say, Kent, would you like an exclusive backstage tour? See the stuff that we’re not revealing until opening day? It’ll be my honor, and I’m sure Mrs. Lane wouldn’t mind.”

There was a beat as the fae shapeshifter desperately tried to decide if this superhero was really being friendly and making a joke at his (supposed) expense - or if he’d made some fatal mistake. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to Lois if I was your favorite.” He said with a grin and quick chuckle that quickly gave way to another sneeze directed into his elbow. “Well.” He sniffled in his disguise as Kent, “That’s a relief at least” then as a funny thought accured to Theo he laughed for real, “I’d hate for you to sneeze and topple over a whole building.” Color rose on his face as he laughed, genuinely amused with his own imagination of Superman sneezing and his breath freezing people and buildings, then blowing them away like something from a cartoon.

Laughter stopped though when a very firm grip wrapped around his shoulders and the man leaned down to speak in his ear. “Oh I don’t think I want to tangle with any doctors who can take on Batman.” Theo said honestly and held up a placating hand. He wasn’t comfortable borrowing someone else’s body as it was, and then being poked and prodded, especially by doctors who could subdue a man like Batman - no thank you he wanted to be as far away from that as possible. “Besides, there’s no reason to attack a head cold like it’s the flu or something.”

Not able to argue against the super strength that steered him away from the rest of the group Theo complied and tried to keep his tone even and friendly despite his growing nervousness. “Only if it’s okay with Lois, she has the story after-all.” He meekly protested and reached up to adjust the glasses on his face, they had been dislodged by his sneezes and laughter. “Really I don’t want any kind of special treatment, it’s okay.” But, Superman was leading him away and ‘Clark’ certainly couldn’t continue to protest. Theo was certain that this was what a heart attack felt like, a cold hard pit, squeezing of his chest, clammy palms. It was enough to make him almost lose his grip on his disguise.

What odd twist of luck, sneak in because he does want the VIP tour, and now that he’s got personal conversation time with Metropolis’ own Superhero - Theo felt so much dread creeping up his spine that his feathers were itching just under his skin. Every instinct telling him he was in deep, deep trouble and had made a horrible mistake.

#notabirdnotaplane

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rose-tinted-nostalgia · 2 years

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it’s been a rough couple of days. my ac went out, and we had to wait till the next day to get it fixed, so I did not sleep. I was still coughing & it was almost 90 degrees & this house has no fans, so I dozed off out of sheer exhaustion between 5:30 and 7, then had to get up, be productive, and then go work a nine hour shift. got home from that & started coughing up blood, so I went to the ER. they were so busy they forgot to put a bracelet on me, did a quick X-ray that looked fine and sent me home. said it was probably bronchitis. coughing up blood can be normal. it did wonders for my anxiety. at this point it’s 5 am again, and I’m in two hours of sleep over two days so I manage to fall straight asleep and sleep till 10. I did not dream. I woke up so dehydrated with the worst headache, feeling like absolute shit, went grocery shopping, tried to eat and shower and then went back to work for an 8 hour shift where some guy at the bar told me if he didn’t dramatically move out of my way when I passed, that he was going to slap my ass, and then I would have probably smacked him, and now this morning, on the day I make the most money at work, my boss asked me to come in an hour late, which isn’t a big deal but I’m thousands behind on shit, and Sundays I average $40 an hour, so that’s $40 I lost out on to sit in my bed already ready waiting to go which is frustrating. I’m tired & anxious & paranoid I have lung cancer or some shit because I’ve been coughing for a year. I test negative for viruses & I don’t have cold symptoms & Google says 20% of lung cancers are first missed on X-rays, and coughing for this long, blood, getting worse, it can’t fucking be normal. and my son doesn’t want to go to school anymore, and it’s a battle I don’t know how to fight, and my boss texted me that the girl I worked with last night tested positive for the flu & strep today so I’ll probably never be well again, and my family still needs my help & I genuinely think people just don’t like me anymore, and I don’t blame them, but I’m just so tired.I’m trying to stay positive, but the truth of the matter is, some people won’t get better. Some people will be sick or sad or lonely or miserable forever. Some people will not forgive you. Some people will use you every chance they get. Some dreams will be unfulfilled forever, and I don’t know what my future holds. If I’ll be lucky or not, because it all boils down to that doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter how hard I try to change what I can, sometimes shit just happens, and I hate it. I don’t want to be tired or sick or hated forever but I don’t really get to choose.

#ignore me #I would if I could

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firstclasscrisis · 2 years

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just a personal thing

I wish I didn’t get sick so often. I wish people wouldn’t be so passive aggressive about it like I’m trying to avoid them or others when I just don’t feel well...I don’t have the spoons to be around them when I’m feeling poorly. And I feel poorly a lot...I hate the accusatory messages “weird how you’re always feeling sick when we plan to see x” as if I’m doing it on purpose...like I can control it. I wish I could. I really wish I could so maybe it wouldn’t feel like everyone despises me, harbors some disdain because I can’t do what they can sometimes...sometimes it’s last minute, I know!! Don’t they understand I don’t choose to get sick? Don’t they know I want to go out and meet up with them but my chronic illness isn’t kind to my body? It’s not like I expected to be sick for a week after getting the vaccine I needed for my job, I’m sorry I don’t want to get others sick just in case it’s an actual flu or cold and not my shitty immune system over-reacting to the jab. Why do I have to feel sorry? I do, but it’s not the sort that feels genuine, it feels bitter--a bitter sort of apologetic and I hate feeling that way. I want to be better, I do. I want to be able to keep plans all the time, but I can’t...I can’t always control my good and bad days...I want to be normal, I want to be like them so bad. I never will be, I can’t be, it’s just not in the cards this time. I feel ashamed. It must suck having a friend like me, who disappoints so frequently. I’m sorry they have to know me. I want to curl up so tight that I stop existing in their sphere, if they can’t perceive me, they’d be a lot happier. Maybe I would too...

#vent #sorry to anyone reading this #I'm chronically ill and I guess it's frustrating to live with #enough to warrant messages sent with the intent to hurt me #with the intent to guilt me for being sick right now #I'm...tired

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tokrev-roses · 3 years

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Pieces

Mikey’s s/o gets/got hurt by a rival gang – Headcanons + tiny drabble

Genre: Drama, tiny bit of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, bruises, and fighting. Nothing too heavy or graphic, since this is rather short

There is so much room for all kinds of scenarios

Mikey goes to war with gangs, that hurt the friends of his friends so you can imagine what hell would break loose, if someone comes for his partner

First of all, is Mikey able to intervene while it still happens, or does he find it out afterwards?

If he arrives at the scene and the are still bullying you, standing around you in a circle, he will not hesitate and destroy each and every last one of them

I mean it

Mikey protects the things that are important to him with his life, not able to bear losing them

But that sounds more romantic than it really is

You will have stand there and watch as he punches one after the other

He is in total tunnel-vision, the damage he causes far more severe than what they did to you

Since you’re usually not involved in the rougher gang stuff, It would be the first time you see the Invincible Mikey, Leader of Toman, with your eyes

And let’s be serious: the brutality would shock you

besides your better judgement, you go and try to stop him

Your voice fails to reach him, he hears it, but it is dull muffled, as if under water

You do not dare to touch him

Only if you finally scream, begging him to let the bloody face of the middle schooler go, he would be freed from the shackle of his dark mind

Mikey knows his demons, he himself fears that numbness inside of him, although it comes in handy for things like this

And now he doesn’t know what to do, bloody kid beneath him, your tear-stained face in front of him

He is genuinely terrified and frozen

Now it is on to you to take the pieces and put them, put him back together

Mikey needs people to do that for him, he cannot do it himself

Take his hand, lead him away, lend him your strength

As I have mentioned in another post, he is someone who needs emotional guidance, so please guide him

Talk about this, tell him, that he overreacted, tell him what he should have done, do it right after the incident. It will be one of the only times when lets his guard down completely, when he will take your words in. he might not fully understand, might even question you, but deep down he absorbed every word, and he will think about it for the next days and weeks

Different scenario if he were to find out later

You tried. You tried to keep Mikey away from you. You faked to be sick, convinced your parents to let you stay at home, told Draken, that you had the flu and that he should, under no circumstances, let Mikey come close to you.

Why? You asked yourself. Why not just tell him and let him have his way with the guys that harassed you on your way home. Show them, what he was capable of.

The answer was simple: You wanted to protect Mikey. From those vile people, from starting a gang war just because you couldn’t protect yourself, but most of all to protect him from himself.

You had seen his wrath, deadly determination in his eyes, stone-cold darkness freezing his soft features. You didn’t want that to happen.

Your mirror reflected a gloomy existence, unsure, whether the short lie would do the job. Those bruises would take longer than a day to heal, that was for sure. The bruises on your wrists were a morbid tattoo of the big hands your abusers kept you in place with. Similar marks could be found on your jaw, where they had used equal force to keep your face up.

It was impossible to convince your parents a second time, they hardly believed the badly acted coughs and headache this morning. And Mikey was like a satellite, revolving around you, showing up when he deemed fit, not when it was convenient. And Draken was only able to do so much. Mikey had the last word.

The piercing sound of the bell made your heart skip a beat. You had a queasy feeling, and the soft voice of your mother confirmed your suspicion

“Hello Mikey, have you come to see y/n?”

Draken had failed and now you were doomed.

--------

Silence. 5 Minutes had passed since his arrival and no one had said anything. Draken had left the room 3 minutes ago, unable to bear the awkward tension in your room.

You couldn’t do anything but stare at your feet, a wet layer lingered on your eyes. You were ashamed. Ashamed for lying to him, ashamed, that he had come her, bringing all kinds of medicine in plastic bag, ashamed that you were so weak to begin with.

You took all the courage you had left and looked up into his face. You were met with a Mikey you knew to well, a Mikey you hated to see. His tense jaw and straight lips weren’t the scariest thing. The black orbs, absorbing every light, cold and hard, just like the person they belonged to.

The bag fell on the ground as your body collided with his. You were used to make the first step when it came to Mikey, but this was the hardest on yet. Your arms stayed limp beside you, and so did his. But your face was hidden in his neck, while he laid his head on yours, the weight being nothing but comforting.

“It is okay, you know. I’m fine.”

Your soft words were met with silence. With anyone else, you would be worried, scared, that the person would be too angry to speak or too disappointed to answer. Not with Mikey. It meant he gave you a chance. He listened.

So, you told him what happened. That those guys messed with you, but that you managed to run away. You told him, why you lied. That he shouldn’t make your problems to his problems. You told him the name of the small street gang, because you knew he’d ask for it anyways.

“Mikey. I don’t want you to fight them. Please.”

Silence. Again.

He thought about your words. Considered them, questioned them, and came to his own conclusion.

Your wrists interlocked behind his back, to make your silent plea more prominent.

He mirrored your actions, like always, like your Mikey does.

There was no blame, no accusations, just Mikey, you, and your beating hearts.

“Y/n. Tell me.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me…what you think. Always. Don’t keep your thoughts from me.”

He could feel your hesitant nod.

“And I won’t be able to keep your promise. We will have a talk with them.”

Disappointment was about to flood your mind when he continued:

“Me, Ken and you.”

And the negative feeling turned into relieve. Because there was no way you would let him lose himself in his dark place while you were around. You collected his pieces and glued the back together. That was your purpose, that was, what he needed.

So, I didn’t really understand whether you’d prefer headcanons or a fully written scenario, so I went for a mix. If you are unsatisfied, please let me know and I will write something else!

Wishing you a happy day,

Rosalie 🌹

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo manji revengers #manjiro sano #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey imagine #manjiro sano imagine #tokyo revengers x reader

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rodr1cks · 3 years

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Sick Day | 2.1k

fluff!! you’re sick and rodrick comes to the rescue.

warnings: vomit, being sick in general

All day you had been feeling extremely ill. The nurse at school was being impossible and refused to send you home, despite your pleas.

“Please Mrs. Williams, I feel terrible you have to believe me!”

She was extremely skeptical, “Child, do you know how many times I hear that in a day? You don’t have a fever, back to class.”

And just like that, you were dismissed. Sent to endure the rest of your classes in misery.

The day went by painfully slow after your trip to the nurse. The fluorescent lights berated your pupils making it impossible to concentrate and worsening your headache.

It was sixth period, the last class of the day. Also your least favorite class of the day. You couldn’t stand the teacher. Mr. Wright. He was your classic asshole history teacher.

You were completely zoned out, trying to focus on not vomiting. Your name being called pulled you out of your haze.

“Miss y/l/n? Do you care to answer me? Unless you’re busy of course.”

Condescending bastard.

You held your tongue, swallowing any smart-ass comments that threatened to spill past your lips. You cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was the question.”

He went through the whole “this is a learning environment” lecture after that. Again, you didn’t listen. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to. Thankfully, he left you alone after that.

Finally, the last bell of the day sounded through the school. You lept from your seat and ran to the bathroom. You practically body slammed the door open. Luckily, the bathroom was empty, most kids having already filed out of the main doors, eager to begin their weekend festivities.

You were hunched over one of the white porcelain bowl, tears filling your eyes.

Today could not get any worse.

After taking a few deep breaths, you were able to compose yourself enough to exit the bathroom.

You crossed your fingers, hoping that the halls had been completely evacuated.

You crept through the empty corridors and out into the parking lot. You were especially dreading the walk home today.

You were walking through the parking lot, enjoying the fresh air when you saw him. Rodrick Heffley.

The two of you were best friends in elementary school but you drifted apart after a while. You honestly developed a certain distaste for him, as he had you.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t-

“Y/n!”

Shit.

“Rodrick!” you feigned enthusiasm.

His brow furrowed, “You look… paler than usual?” You rolled your eyes, classic Rodrick. You wanted this interaction to end, immediately. “Yup. Not feeling well.” You deadpanned, providing little detail.

Rodrick hesitated for a moment, “Well, let me drive you home, kid.”

Kid. Who did he think he was?

“I think I’ll pass, weather is nice today.” The weather was far from nice.

“Oh really, the weather is nice, y/n? Where are you right now? Because it’s raining where I am.”

He sighed, “and I also saw that little performance Mr. Wright gave you...”

Oh so he pities me.

“Rodrick, If I get in your van will you stop talking?”

He motioned, pretending to zip his lips up and throw away the key. A small smile spread across your face but you didn’t let him see that.

A few minutes into the drive, you decided you were glad you let him take you home. The sky had opened up and it was storming.

Oh God.

“Rodrick, pull over, now.”

He looked over at you and could tell what was about to happen. He pulled over quickly and you opened the door. You leaned over and vomited right onto the grass patch parallel to the road, in the pouring rain.

Coyly, you returned to your seat in the van. You were unsure if you should apologize, so you stayed silent.

“Y/n, are your parents home?”

He knew they never were. Ever since you were a kid, your parents had been anywhere but home. Business trips, vacations, retreats, you name it.

You looked down at your shoes, water dripping from your hair, and shook your head.

“Alrighty then, change of plans.”

You protested, “Rodrick that’s really not necessary I’ll be fine.” Part of you knew there was no point in arguing. If he was one thing, it was stubborn.

He reached out, placing the back of his hand on your forehead to prove a point, “Y/n, you’re burning up. You’re coming with me.”

You were closer to his house anyways. That’s how you justified it, at least.

His van pulled into The Heffley’s driveway. Rodrick got out and rushed around the vehicle to open your door.

“Come along, y/n. I know somebody who will be very happy to see you,” he grinned.

The front door swung open and you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The Heffley’s house was always warm and always smelled spectacular. Somehow, Mrs. Heffley was always baking or cooking something.

“Y/n? What a nice surprise this is!” Mrs. Heffley beamed. She had always loved you. “How I’ve missed seeing your face around here!” She said, placing her hands on your checks.

“You’re soaking wet!” You nodded awkwardly in response. “And goodness, you’re burning up! Are you feeling alright?” She felt your forehead and cheeks, then squeezed your shoulders gently.

From a young age, Mrs. Heffley had looked after you as one of her own. Nothing had changed it seemed.

“No, actually,” you smiled half-heartedly. Mrs. Heffley frowned at you. “Rodrick, get her some dry clothes, would you?.” Rodrick nodded, leading you up the stairs.

You stood in his room, obviously uncomfortable. He was knelt in front of his dresser, digging around for something.

“Ah! Here it is.”

Rodrick whipped out a t-shirt for you to change into. He grabbed a pair of black sweats from another drawer as well.

“Here you are, mademoiselle.” He stuck out the wad of clothing in your direction. You couldn’t lie, you were happy to have some dry clothes to change into.

You stepped into his bathroom, taking a moment to examine your appearance. You looked rough. Intense bags hung low under your eyes and you truly did look more pale than usual. Fantastic.

You emerged from the bathroom, Rodrick’s clothing drooping slightly from your frame. Rodrick was sitting on the end of his bed and he patted the surface.

You joined him on his twin mattress, only because you were exhausted.

“Rodrick, why are you being nice to me?”

He looked guilty. “You’ve had a rough day, y/n…”

He sucked in a breath, “...and y’know I’ll always care about you.”

How could he still care for you? You completely wrote him off when high school began.

“Listen, y/n, the past is in the past, okay?”

A genuine smile appeared on your face. Before the moment could become too sentimental, Rodrick interjected.

“Oh! Be right back,” he chirped.

He ran downstairs and came back with an orange soda and some cold & flu medicine.

Rodrick explained himself, “Orange! Like, vitamin C, right?” He looked too happy with himself, you couldn’t bring him down. At least his heart was in the right place.

Concealing your laughter to the best of your ability, you accepted the beverage and medicine from his hand.

You hated this kind of medicine with your whole heart. The orange soda could be useful honestly, just not for its nutritional value like Rodrick intended.

Rodrick measured out the appropriate amount of the medicine for you as you cracked open the can. He handed you the small cup full of the thick, red liquid.

You threw back the grotesque cherry flavored solution, grimacing as it coated your throat. You chased the medicine with the orange soda. See, it did come in handy.

You leaned back into Rodrick’s pillows, trying to relax.

About fifteen minutes later you felt extremely drowsy. “Rodrick, can I see that bottle?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, confused.

You read the bottle and instantly threw your head back in annoyance. “Rodrick this is the drowsy kind!” You continued inspecting the bottle, “and it’s extra strength!”

With each second passing, it got increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open.

Everything was blurry and you were teetering between consciousness and sleep.

“Rodrick,” you slurred. “I’m so sorry I stopped talking to you… stopped being your friend. Felt like I wasn’t cool or pretty enough… didn’t deserve you.”

Rodrick was extremely confused. You thought you were too good for him? He had to hold back a laugh.

He couldn’t conceal his smile, “Excuse me? Y/n, that must be the nyquil talking.” He rolled his eyes and brushed off your comment, contemplating the sentiment for a mere moment.

You eventually drifted off, unable to ward off sleep any longer.

When you woke up, you first noticed rodrick. He was sitting on his beaten up couch with his headphones covering his ears. You could hear the muffled baseline from your spot across the room.

How are his eardrums still intact?

Rodrick had a shoebox on his lap and he was shuffling through the contents, smiling to himself.

You cleared your throat, obtaining his attention.

“Oh, y/n! You’re up!” He smiled at you, ripping off his headphones.

You nodded slowly, knuckling your eyes sleepily.

“What time is it?”

Rodrick glanced at his watch, “It’s only 8:30.” You nodded again, continuing to rub the sleep from your eyes.

Rodrick stood, picking up the box and walking over to you. “Look,” he said softly. You peered down into the small shoebox and numerous photos and letters.

“This one here is my favorite,” he said quietly. It was a picture of you and Rodrick at the roller rink. You recognized the photo immediately.

“Seventh grade kick off,” you smiled. You took the box from his lap and began looking through each photo, braided friendship bracelet, concert ticket.

You laughed as each item brought back memories you had long forgotten.

You stopped at a photo of the two of you dressed up in ridiculous outfits. You wore a sequined hat and Rodrick held his drumsticks in hand.

“Was this when we saw Good Charlotte?” You asked.

He giggled, “It sure was. I remember thinking I looked so hot that night. Guess not huh.”

“What are you talking about, you looked incredible Rodrick. Seventh grade me was dying to jump you right then and there.”

His face lit up, “Really?”

“No,” you flashed him an expressionless look before breaking out into side-splitting laughter. He joined you.

You missed this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy. Rodrick was the only person who you had truly experienced that with.

You sighed to yourself. Come tomorrow, you’d be back to strangers. Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip quivered. Rodrick was oblivious until a single tear drop fell onto the photograph below you.

He immediately tried to comfort you. He placed an arm around your shoulder, dragging you into his larger frame. It caught you off guard but you allowed yourself to melt into his touch.

Rodrick distracted you from your sorrow. “Look at this one right here.” It was a photo of you and the Heffley Family in their backyard. You and Rodrick were around fifteen, if you remembered correctly.

“This was the day that I realized I had a big, fat crush on you.”

He followed up, “S’lame I know…”

Heat flooded your cheeks, this time the heat was not a result of your illness. Was it anxiety? Happiness? Both? You couldn’t decide.

“You never really explained why you stopped talking to me and coming by my house.”

You shrugged at him, feeling like your explanation would make him mad. “Well, Rodrick, you started getting new friends. Friends that were better than me or cooler than me.”

“Y/n that is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I could never replace you. To this day, nobody’s ever come close.”

He gave you a playful smack over the head.

“...anyways, to be honest that crush never really went away?”

Before you had time to process the sentence he was gently grabbing your chin, turning your head.

You were facing him now, your lips only inches away from his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes, I think so, yeah.”

He laughed at you and leaned in slowly. Rodrick used one finger to gently move your hair out of your face.

The kiss was gentle and filled with emotion.

You felt like you hadn’t known what you were missing out on until that moment. You felt completed.

“Oh shit, I better not get sick!”

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick fanfiction #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick

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markoslostgirl · 3 years

Text

𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏' 𝑼𝒑 (𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑺. 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏, 𝑬𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒆)

Requested by: @ringa-starr

Pairing: Bill S. Preston, Esquire x fem!oc

Word count: 2,110 words

Warnings: none, I think? Unless you count fluff

Summary: Bill’s girlfriend, Deidra, is sick, so Bill takes care of her

Author’s note: I feel so honored to write this for my friend, and I had a fun time writing it since we love the curly-haired angel, Bill S. Preston, Esquire. I’ve been working on this for 5-6 months, but I honestly think I could’ve done a better job with it so don’t come at me. Deidra, I hope you love it, and that you enjoy reading it. GIF isn’t mine, and it holds no significance to the imagine. I just couldn’t find one suitable.

Deidra sat up in her bed, letting out a sigh as she glanced up at the ceiling in boredom. She was sick, feeling miserable beyond compare. It wasn’t allergies, or even the flu. No, it was just a measly cold. Okay, so maybe she had made the most foolish decision of falling asleep with her hair wet while the air conditioner was running full blast.

Saturday had been a particularly hot day in San Dimas. Of course, it was always hot, but the one day on the weekend was uncomfortable. So, Deidra, her boyfriend—Bill S. Preston, Esquire—and her best friend, Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan, went to Waterloo to beat the heat.

Bill and Deidra had been dating for months now, and it had gone incredible. The first time Deidra had met Bill, she instantly became captivated by his sweet demeanor and charismatic personality. She gravitated toward him as if it were like a magnetic force pulling her in. Deidra didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about him she found so...alluring. Bill was boisterous and endearing, as well as goofy. He never failed to make her smile or laugh at his goofy jokes.

Deidra also had become entranced by the way he spoke every word with such genuine innocence, and it made her heart flutter. His beautiful, forest green eyes held such optimism, always sparkling with excitement. He had incredibly golden, curly hair, and cheeks dusted with a naturally rosy blush. His bright, cheeky grin was adorable, and it made Deidra’s soul lift up out of her body every time he flashed his Cheshire grin whenever he spoke. She was convinced he was the Greek God Apollo.

Since Deidra had been holed up in her room for days, she was about to go insane due to the palpable tediousness. While she kept herself busy watching reruns of “I love Lucy” and “The Brady Bunch”, or listening to music, she could only tolerate so much in order not to grow lack of interest.

Deidra hadn’t been able to see Bill, since she spent half of her time with him at Ted’s house watching them practice. She missed hanging out and spending time with them outside of school. The trio were a tight knit group, always together as they kicked around having the time of their lives. Other than spending time in Ted’s garage, Deidra spent the other half of her time at her house with Bill or going on dates with him on their own time. So, the time she had to stay away from him was the most heinous thing ever.

Bill was incredibly charming—always planning the most creative, romantic gestures for Deidra in his own special ways with the help of Ted, of course. It never failed to make Deidra melt at just how much of a gentleman Bill was. He always took her on cute, simple dates—whether it’s to the mall, Waterloo, or even McDonald’s. They spent time together as much as possible since they always had the most fun of times.

Deidra let out a yawn as she laid back down, stretching her aching limbs out wide at her sides. A loud sneeze erupted from her nose, causing her to groan and let her head fall back on the pillow due to the heavy weight on her head from lifting it up. She reached over and grabbed a tissue out of the box on the nightstand, blowing her nose before tossing the tissue in the small bin beside the nightstand her mom had placed there.

Deidra sniffed, staring back up at the ceiling with watery eyes as Elvis played faintly in the background. The sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, filling her with panic. Both of her parents were at work, and if they were home, they would let her know as soon as they stepped foot inside the house. All of the sudden, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway, filling her with relief.

“Greetings, my most bodacious babe Dee!” Bill exclaimed, his arms full of what appears to be food, games, and medicine. Bill had rushed over, filled with worry once he heard how sick Deidra was over the phone, and he wanted to take care of her instantly. “I brought some things I know you’d enjoy during your time of need.”

Her whole face lit up, her eyes twinkling. “Bill!” Deidra croaked, her voice raw from the amount of coughing she had been doing. “What are you doing here?” She asked. “I’m sick, which means you’re not allowed to be here,” she told him, a frown on her face.

“Dee, babe, I haven’t been able to see you for days,” Bill reminded Deidra. “I’ve really missed you, and I know you must be going insane trapped in your room. I figured I’d come cheer you up,” he admitted as he stepped inside the room.

Deidra smiled at his sweet confession. Bill always went out of his way to do things like this for the people he absolutely cared about, including Deidra and Ted. This was just the kind of guy Bill was, and it made her fall in love with him even more.

“I really appreciate it, Bill,” Deidra told bill, honesty in her voice. “I’m sick. I would hate to have you in the same situation, especially because of me. It’s most egregious,” she tried to convince him.

“I’m not going to get sick, you baby” Bill denied with a playful glare, causing Deidra to roll her eyes with a fond smile at his humor. “Just let me take care of you until you’re a hundred percent better again,” bill insisted before placing the items on the bed.

Deidra felt a stinging itch radiating from her throat, causing her to hack violently into her arm. The sensation of her throat feeling like it had been ripped to tiny shreds by a chainsaw was searing in waves of splitting pain. Once the coughing ceased, she squeezed her eyes shut as a sigh escaped past her lips.

Shrugging off his shoes in a lethargic way, Bill sat down beside Deidra, a concerned look etched on his face. He couldn’t help but notice her pale skin, the dark circles underneath her eyes, or her nose red with irritation. The look of pure misery vanished once bill placed a feathery, soft kiss on her forehead.

“Dee, you’re burning up!” Bill voiced as he pulled away, placing a cool hand on Deidra’s forehead, causing her to shiver due to how warm her body felt. Bill brushed the stray, baby hairs away from her forehead. “You stay here, babe. I’m gonna go and make you some soup,” he stood up from the bed with a smile before retreating downstairs to the kitchen.

A small grin graced Deidra’s lips, finding how adorable and sweet it was for Bill to become worried, especially whenever it came to her. Even at his own risk, Bill was a deeply compassionate person by helping when Deidra was in distress. She couldn’t help but feel naturally content, delighted, and safe in his presence.

Deidra crawled out from the warm cocoon of her bed, moving toward her record player and turning off the music of Elvis. She plopped back down on her bed and pulling back the covers closer up to her neck. It didn’t take long for Bill to finish making the soup, as he made his way back into the room, carefully holding a bowl of soup and a spoon. Deidra sniffed the air, the delicious smell of the soup wafting through her nose.

“Here you go, babe,” Bill softly spoke, carefully handing his girlfriend the bowl of hot contents and a spoon. “You need to eat a little bit so you can take your medicine.”

Deidra settled the bowl on her lap, the weight of the bowl full of soup feeling heavy in her hands. She placed one hand around the bowl, her index finger resting on the rim to keep it steady on her lap. Timidly, she took a spoonful of soup, bringing it up to her mouth and carefully blowing on it before taking a bite.

Deidra shivered at the warm feeling flowing through her body from the hot soup. Bill took his place beside her as he watched her continue to eat the soup. Noticing his beloved was almost finished, bill took the spoon and guided it to her lips.

Deidra blushed, eyeing the spoon bill was holding up to her lips. Bill often fed her from time to time, whenever they went on dates, but this time it was obviously under different circumstances. She was more vulnerable. Of course, neither of them seemed to mind, as it was a loving gesture bill did with patience.

The curly-haired angel pushed the spoon past the girl’s lips, letting her finish the last bite of soup. She leaned over, placing the bowl next to the cup of tea she had made a while ago, already sure to be cold now. Deidra glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, knowing it was time to take her medicine once again.

After she finished taking her medicine, Deidra grabbed the bottle half full of water and took a big sip of it to wash the horrid taste down. She eased herself back under the covers in order to lie down, sighing in content from the warmth the soup and the covers provided her with.

Bill outstretched his arms for Deidra to envelop herself into his embrace, causing fear to cross her face as she shook her head in protest. “Bill, no, I don’t want you to risk yourself more than you already have.”

“I don’t care,“ Bill excused. “Just let me hold you.” Deidra bored her eyes into her boyfriend, biting her lip as Bill fluttered his eyelashes with an expectant smile before shuffling closer to him and curling into his chest. He gazed into her eyes with such fondness, causing a flush to creep up her face as she knew he was thinking of her.

“I’m only doing it because you’re cute,” Deidra commented, causing bill to form a smirk on his lips once he took notice of her sticking her nose in the air.

A moment of silence passed before bill spoke up. “Do you feel a little better, Dee?” Bill asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. The warmth from the blankets combined with the heat from cuddling up to Bill enveloped her with a blanket of comfort. “Are you warm enough?”

The brown-haired girl hummed, nodding her head. “You’re soft and warm,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to move.” Bill did manage to make her feel a little better than how she was feeling before. He lifted her spirits once he showed up, so needless to say, she wasn’t feeling as miserable as she had been. “I’m so glad you came over. Any time without you is far too long.”

Her voice dripped with exhaustion from the medicine, the state of drowse sinking in as a side effect. Bill’s mouth lifted up into a smile as he played with Deidra’s hair, tracing through her long, wavy locks softly with his fingers.

“Don’t stop...” Deidra mumbled in a languid tone, causing bill to hum in question. “Your fingers in my hair,” the girl clarified. “Feels really nice...”

“You’re adorable,” Bill crooned, his mouth curving into a soft smile. “You know I’ll always be here, right?” Bill quietly vowed in a gentle tone, causing Deidra to hum in content. There were times where Bill struggled with expressing how he felt about the green-eyed girl, but they both knew he loved her so much.

As the day progressed, Bill made sure Deidra consumed her medicine regularly when she was supposed to. After watching Lady and the Tramp and playing board games, Bill and Deidra started reading together. Bill absentmindedly tangled his fingers through the dark tresses and down her back as he reads to her in a soft voice.

Bill peered down at Deidra, only to see she had dozed off once he noticed her eyelids flutter shut. The corners of his mouth twitched up as he gazed down at her, before closing the book and pulling her closer to him. He nuzzled his face into her hair, before placing a tender kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you,” Bill whispered softly into her ear. “I hope you know this.”

“I love you, too,” Deidra declared, her voice just barely touched of a whisper. It nearly would have been too silent, yet bill had heard it loudly by the tiny grin curving on the corners of his lips. It just reminded how in love he fell with her more everyday.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

So, that’s it for this imagine! Bill is so cute, and as a Bill girl, I wish I lived in a universe where I was sick so he could take care of me! What do you think? Like I mentioned before, I really think I could have done a better job with this. I’m honored my best friend Deidra came to me to write this, and I hope I did it justice!

With love, from Audrey <3

#bill s preston esquire imagine #bill s preston esquire #bill s preston esquire x reader #bill and ted imagine #bill and ted #bill and teds excellent adventure #bill and teds bogus journey #alex winter

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years

Text

The Good, the Bad, and the Very Ugly

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Tommy Vega, Nancy Gillian

Summary: When Carlos is struck down with a nasty bout of the stomach flu he needs rescuing from the best paramedic trio in town.

A/N: I have a Bachelor's degree in Emergency!, a Master's Degree in Royal Pains, and an MD in Grey's Anatomy so I can assure you that everything in this fic represents a very real, accurate depiction of how the stomach flu would hit a perfectly healthy young police officer. I took no liberties. This is science.

Massive thanks as always to @bluenet13 for beta-ing!

For the @badthingshappenbingo prompt “Stomach Flu”

Read on AO3

Carlos was really trying to listen to this woman complain about her neighbors and their noise level, he truly was. He took every call seriously, even completely ridiculous ones like this, but today he was struggling. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly and he had to suppress a burp as the woman told him for the third time about how loud her neighbors were being.

“Ma’am, they are allowed to mow their lawn during daylight hours,” he said.

“Seven am?! Seven am is considered daylight hours?!” the woman cried. “I am trying to do my morning meditations and all I hear is lawnmowers and power tools!”

“Well then I would try headphones,” Carlos said, voice a little snappier than usual.

Mitchell looked at him with raised eyebrows, clearly amused by the lack of his typical diplomacy.

The woman glared at him. “I want your badge numbers.”

Carlos and Mitchell both gave them over willingly but it was another ten minutes of listening to her rant before they were finally able to escape and head back to the station. “You all right Reyes?” Mitchell asked as they got back into the cruiser. “You look a little green.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos said, even as his stomach lurched unpleasantly while he pulled the cruiser into traffic.

“You were a little snippy back there. Trouble in paradise?”

“T.K. and I are fine,” Carlos said. “That woman was in the wrong, there was no point in standing there and continuing the conversation.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Who are you and what have you done with Carlos ‘Calm and Patient’ Reyes?”

“Maybe he’s on vacation today,” Carlos told her.

“Mhmm…” she continued to look at him suspiciously, but didn’t say anymore.

His stomach had not improved by the time they got back to the precinct. In fact it seemed to be getting worse. Everything was bubbling and gurgling and cramping and making him extremely uncomfortable, but he set his jaw and sat at his desk to file the paperwork from their morning on patrol.

“Reyes, Mitchell,” their captain walked over and stood by their desks. “I’ve been on the phone for half an hour with a Mrs. Donnelly. Care to explain?”

Mitchell shook her head and rolled her eyes. “She called in a noise complaint. Lawnmowers.”

Carlos would have added to the conversation but he was growing oddly hot and his mouth had filled with coppery tasting saliva.

“She said you were,” the captain held up a piece of paper and read directly from it, “disrespectful, unhelpful, and bigoted.”

Mitchell snorted. “Okay. Was she describing us or herself? Because I’m pretty sure she ticks all those boxes.”

The captain turned and looked at Carlos. “Reyes? Anything to say?”

Carlos opened his mouth and then closed it again, swallowing hard. “Carlos are you okay?” Mitchell asked with a concerned frown.

Carlos’s stomach squeezed and he knew there was no hope for it. “Excuse me,” he said, then turned and threw up directly into the garbage can beside his desk.

“Whoa!” their captain said. “Reyes what the hell?”

Carlos spat into the garbage can, the acrid taste of stomach acid burning his throat, mouth, and even up into his nose. “Sorry sir,” he choked out.

Mitchell uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to him. He took a careful sip, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing tentatively. Somehow he felt worse than before throwing up; slightly cold and shaky, and like he might throw up again.

“Reyes if you’re sick get out of here and go home,” his captain said. “We don’t need you bringing the whole bull pen down.”

“I’m fine sir,” he said and then blanched, doubling over the garbage can again.

“No you’re not. Get out of here. And don’t come back until you can keep your lunch down,” his captain ordered.

“Carlos are you okay?” Mitchell asked, genuine concern on her face. “You look terrible.”

“I’ll be fine,” Carlos rasped. “It’s probably just something I ate.”

“Looks more like it ate you,” Mitchell said with a grimace as he got to his feet. “Do you want me to call you an Uber?”

“No,” Carlos shook his head, gripping the desk tightly. “I can make it.”

“Well text me when you get home so I know you’re okay,” she said.

Thank god he only lived fifteen minutes from the station because the drive was so nauseatingly horrible he wasn’t sure he could have made it much longer. His stomach clenched and tightened at regular intervals and he was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like it was his job because he really didn’t want to pull over and be sick on the side of the road.

He pulled into the driveway and got his key out with shaky hands, stumbling in the front door and practically falling into the powder room where he once again violently emptied his stomach into the toilet. God, how could there be anything left after the first two rounds? He’d barely had anything to eat besides coffee and half a bagel.

He groaned as he pushed himself up and flushed the toilet, using the sink for leverage to get all the way onto his feet. He felt like shit. He hadn’t felt this bad in…well he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this bad.

He knew he needed to hydrate before he went upstairs and collapsed into his bed so he slowly and agonizingly made his way to the fridge, searching for a Gatorade, his stomach still sending stabbing pains through his gut at regular intervals.

There were footsteps on the stairs and T.K. appeared, uniform half buttoned. “Carlos? Babe what are you doing here?”

Carlos looked at his watch. It was nearly noon but he’d forgotten that T.K. had a late shift today. “Captain sent me home,” Carlos said, struggling to reach an orange Gatorade tucked in the back.

“He sent you home?” T.K. walked toward him, confusion on his face. “Why? What’s going on?”

Carlos straightened up, wincing as his stomach cramped violently. “He thinks I’m sick.”

“He thinks you’re sick?” T.K. repeated, taking a step closer. “Why does he think you’re sick?”

Carlos grimaced. “Probably because I narrowly missed throwing up on his shoes.”

“You threw up?” T.K. snapped into paramedic mode, automatically pressing the back of his hand to Carlos’ forehead to check for a fever. “Oh baby.”

“It’s fine. Probably something I ate.”

“Do you want me to stay home today and take care of you?”

“God no,” Carlos said quickly. The last thing he wanted was for T.K. to see him puking his guts out repeatedly. “No I’m just going to get in bed and ride it out. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

His stomach felt like knives but surely a nap and some electrolytes would take care of that. “Are you sure?” T.K. asked, running a hand down his arm. “I hate to leave you like this.”

“I can take care of myself T.K., even when I’m sick,” Carlos said. “I promise,” he added when T.K. didn’t look convinced. “I’m just going to go upstairs and sleep it off.”

“Well make sure you hydrate,” T.K. told him. “I’ll call you in a couple hours to check in.” He pecked Carlos on the cheek. “If you need something text me okay? I’ll keep my phone on me.” He said as he walked toward the door, grabbing his overnight bag and shoes.

“I will. Have a good shift,” Carlos said.

He waited until T.K. had locked the front door to drag himself up the stairs. He fell into the bed and curled himself into the fetal position, begging his stomach to stop its agonizing assault.

The hours passed in alternating blurs of fast and slow. He was hot and then freezing, his body aching, stomach churning relentlessly. Even the Gatorade refused to stay down, sending him staggering to the bathroom to heave up the liquid and then, eventually, nothing.

He tried to read but he was too restless and even the television couldn’t keep his focus as wave after wave of agonizing stomach pain assaulted him.

He attempted sleep but it was fraught with discomfort; half awake, half dreaming, too hot and then too cold, body tangling uncomfortably in the sheets, never fully sinking into the blissful darkness of true unconsciousness.

He was dragged out of his misery after several hours by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he croaked when he finally managed to answer.

“Hey babe, how are you feeling?” T.K.’s voice was slightly distorted, it sounded like he was in the rig.

Carlos cleared his throat. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” T.K. asked. “You sound weird.”

“I was sleeping,” Carlos told him, wincing as pain stabbed at his stomach again.

“Oh good,” T.K. said. “Did you eat something?”

Carlos grew nauseated at even the mention of food. “Not yet.”

“Well try okay? Some crackers or some soup or something?”

“Yeah I will,” Carlos told him. He would not. He didn’t think he could make it down the stairs let alone manage to scrounge up any food.

Carlos heard the siren turn on. “I have to go. Call or text if you need anything all right? I love you!”

“Love you too,” Carlos mumbled, his eyes already sliding closed.

The next time he woke it was the middle of the night and he felt worse. So much worse. How was that even possible?

His stomach clenched so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. He moaned as he struggled to his feet again, the world spinning around him as he walked unsteadily toward the bathroom, using the furniture to stabilize himself.

He leaned over the toilet bowl stomach cramping and stabbing at him, but nothing came up. Instead he just retched helplessly for god knew how long until the episode passed and he collapsed onto the tile, shaky and sore and freezing.

He swallowed hard, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes, praying that whatever this was, it would be over soon.

Several Hours Later…

T.K. hung up his phone and sighed, checking his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. It was nearing seven am and he hadn’t heard from his boyfriend in a long time. He was starting to get worried, even as he tried to convince himself he was overreacting. It was early. Carlos was probably still asleep.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked.

T.K. looked down at the screen again, as if possibly a call or text had come through in the three seconds since he’d last checked. “Carlos was sick when I left yesterday morning and now he’s not answering. I figured maybe he was asleep but it’s been…a really long time.”

“Do you want to swing by?” Tommy asked. “It’s on our way back to the firehouse if we take the long way around.”

T.K. vacillated with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah dude, we’ll just swing by and make sure he’s okay. Can’t have you worrying about him for the rest of shift,” Nancy said.

T.K. hit the blinker and turned them right. “I’m probably overreacting.”

“Then Carlos will smile and thank you for it like the good, understanding person that he is,” Tommy said with a smile.

The house was quiet when they pulled up. T.K. felt his concern double as he took his key out and strode quickly to the front door. “We’ll wait here,” Tommy said when they reached the stoop. “Call if you need us.”

T.K. left the front door open behind him and strode upstairs. “Carlos?”

There was no answer and T.K. knew, deep in his bones that something was wrong. The bedroom door was open, but the the bed was empty, sheets and blankets mussed in a way that said Carlos had at one point been there, even if he wasn’t anymore.

The smell of vomit and sweat hung in the air. A barely touched bottle of Gatorade and Carlos’ phone sat on the nightstand. “Carlos!” T.K. called again more urgently.

“T.K.?”

The reply was croaky, weak and T.K. turned in the direction of the master bath. What he found hit him like a punch in the gut. Carlos, in nothing but his boxers, sweating and shivering as he sat on the floor, his back pressed against the bathroom wall.

T.K. dropped to his knees, hands running over Carlos’ forehead and down his face, fear spiking as the heat of Carlos’ skin seared his own. “Hey baby,” he said softly. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“T.K. I don’t—I can’t—” Carlos looked panicky beneath his exhaustion and T.K.’s stomach clenched in fear.

“Cap!” he yelled out the door, voice cracking. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to help you all right? How long have you been here like this?”

Carlos just shook his head, all his effort apparently going into breathing and remaining conscious.

“T.K.!” Tommy and Nancy appeared in the bathroom doorway, both of them looking concerned.

“He’s burning up,” T.K. said, panic seeping into his voice.

“Nancy, call it in,” Tommy ordered. “And go get our kits from the rig.”

“Dispatch this is RA Unit 126 responding to a call at 540 Lynwood Avenue,” Nancy said into her radio as she flew out the door.

“Let’s get him on the bed,” Tommy said, getting under one of Carlos’ arms as T.K. scrambled to get under his other side.

Carlos moaned as they walked him out of the bathroom. “I know, I know baby, you’re okay,” T.K. said, voice thick as Carlos shivered violently against him.

Nancy returned quickly, pulling equipment out of their kits as T.K. and Tommy gently laid Carlos on the bed.

“T.K. check his pulse,” Tommy ordered. “Nancy get a BP.”

Thank god someone else was taking over and telling him what to do because he felt completely shattered right now by the image of his strong, beautiful boyfriend reduced to such a fragile state. “Pulse is rapid,” T.K. said, his own heart rate matching it as Carlos’ eyelids fluttered.

“BP is low,” Nancy said.

“And temp is up,” Tommy said, lifting the thermometer to look at the reading. “One hundred and two point seven. Carlos, can you hear me?”

There was no response and T.K. thought he was going to lose his mind with panic.

“No rebound tenderness,” Nancy said, palpating Carlos’ abdomen. He let out a moan as she pressed directly on his stomach but she continued her exam with professional precision. “Belly is soft. I don��t think it’s appendicitis.”

“I think we’re looking at a severe case of dehydration,” Tommy said. “Let’s get some fluids going.”

“I got it,” Nancy said, pulling out bags of saline and potassium.

“Should we take him in?” T.K. asked.

“Let’s just see how the fluids go first,” Tommy said. “I’m sure Carlos would prefer to avoid the hospital, let’s give him a chance to come back on his own.”

The next few minutes were agonizingly long as Nancy and Tommy started the IV’s and they all waited to see if Carlos would come around. He wasn’t completely unconscious but he wasn’t totally with it either, breath coming out labored and harsh, limbs moving restlessly, eyelids fluttering up and down as his head turned from side to side.

T.K. stroked his fingers through Carlos’ damp, sweaty curls, biting his lip as anxiety and guilt ate away at him. “I thought he was all right by himself,” he said. “If I’d known…”

“T.K. this isn’t anybody’s fault,” Tommy said, reaching to take Carlos’ pulse again. “Sometimes it just happens. Carlos is young and healthy, nobody had any reason to suspect he would go down so hard.”

“Yeah dude, you can’t blame yourself for the violence of the stomach flu,” Nancy said, adjusting the IV’s.

Carlos stirred a little more and blinked a few times, eyes trying to focus. T.K. instantly went on alert. “Carlos, babe? Can you hear me?”

“T.K.?” Carlos shifted, and T.K. put a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him from dislodging the IV’s.

“Hey Carlos,” Tommy said, giving him a smile. “How are you feeling?”

Carlos groaned and swallowed hard. “Bad,” he croaked.

“Well we’ve got some fluids going, that should help. Give it a few more minutes and we’ll see how you feel,” Tommy said. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“I uh, I don’t know,” Carlos said. “My stomach just…I couldn’t stop throwing up. And after a while I couldn’t even get off the floor, everything just hurt and I was so cold. I think maybe I passed out a couple times, I’m not sure.”

T.K.’s heart squeezed at the thought of Carlos alone and suffering on the cold bathroom tile. “Do you remember the last time you ate or drank anything?” he asked.

“Nothing stays down,” Carlos croaked, his voice weak and raspy after so many hours of throwing up. “Makes my stomach hurt.”

“Baby you should have called me,” T.K. admonished him, tears dangerously close to the surface.

“T.K.,” Tommy said quietly. “Give him a minute to catch his breath. Save the lecture for later.”

Carlos seemed to grow even more aware of the situation and closed his eyes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Nancy asked.

“This,” Carlos said, gesturing aimlessly with his hand. “This is…”

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for,” Tommy said reassuringly. “Happens to the best of us. The twins both had a stomach bug last year at the same time and it was a total nightmare.” She gave him a smile and then turned back to her team. “Nancy, why don’t you and I head downstairs and get Carlos some Gatorade? We’ll call the station too and tell them we’ll be a little longer.”

“He uh, he likes the orange ones,” T.K. said.

Tommy put a hand on T.K.’s shoulder and squeezed. “Orange it is.”

They both slipped out of the room leaving Carlos and T.K. alone. “Babe what happened?” T.K. asked, still stroking Carlos’ curls. “When I called before you said you were okay.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Carlos said. “It wasn’t so bad and then…it was.”

“I’m so sorry, I should never have left you like this,” T.K. said.

“T.K. I took care of myself just fine before you came along.”

“Yes and using the current situation as evidence it’s a miracle you survived.” T.K. was unable to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“T.K.” Carlos tried to sit up, but T.K. shook his head and pressed him back down into the bed.

“No, no. Do not try and take care of me. I’m here to take care of you. Just rest okay?”

“Are you going to make me go to the hospital?” Carlos asked.

“We’ll see,” T.K. told him. “You really, really scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” T.K. bent over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”

Tommy and Nancy returned, Gatorade in hand. “Any better Carlos?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Carlos said.

It had been about forty minutes since they’d arrived and Carlos was less pale and more alert, but he still didn’t look well. “Are you just saying that so T.K. stops freaking out?” Nancy asked knowingly. “Because T.K. is always going to freak out so you may as well just be honest.”

“Bedside manner Nancy,” Tommy said lightly as she uncapped the Gatorade. “Carlos do you think you can sit up?”

He nodded and T.K. and Nancy helped slide him up against the pillows until he was propped up enough to sip at the Gatorade. He eyed the bottle nervously as Tommy uncapped it. “Just a couple sips,” Tommy said. “If you can’t keep it down we’ll take you to the ER and have them run some more tests. My guess is this is just a particularly violent strain of stomach flu, but I don’t want to leave unless we’re sure you’re on the mend.”

Carlos’ hand shook as he raised the bottle to his lips and he grimaced as he took one small sip and then another, managing a couple tablespoons before the bottle tipped dangerously in his unsteady hand.

T.K. reached out and caught it, removing it gently from Carlos’ fingers and setting it on the nightstand.

“Temp is down to one oh two point one,” Nancy said.

“And your blood pressure is looking better too,” Tommy said. “How’s your stomach?”

“It still hurts,” Carlos said, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“But you’re keeping the Gatorade down, so that’s good,” T.K. said, trying to comfort himself as much as his boyfriend.

“I don’t think a hospital trip is necessary unless it would make you feel better to go,” Tommy said.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Carlos said firmly.

“He can’t stay here alone,” T.K. argued.

“Which is why you’re staying with him,” Tommy said smoothly. “Shift’s almost over, you’re already here, there’s no point in dragging you back to the station.”

“Yeah don’t worry about it,” Nancy said. “We all know Cap and I do the heavy lifting on this team anyway. We don’t need your manly self getting in the way. Girl power and all that.”

“Nancy,” Tommy sighed in exasperation.

“I’m just kidding!” Nancy said. “Don’t worry about it Strand, we got you covered.”

“T.K.,” Tommy nodded toward the corner of the room and T.K. left the bed to follow her as Nancy chatted at Carlos and packed up their equipment. “I’m going to leave another bag of saline with you, just in case. If his fever spikes again or his abdominal pain increases…”

“I’ll take him in,” T.K. said immediately.

“And you’ll call me,” Tommy said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “And call me tomorrow regardless. Let me know how he’s doing.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re family T.K., you and Carlos. We do what we need to for family.”

T.K. walked Tommy and Nancy to the door and then spent a few minutes downstairs heating up some plain chicken broth before returning to the bedroom. “Still okay?” he asked as he set the bowl down on the nightstand.

Carlos nodded. “Beyond embarrassed, but okay.”

“Stop it,” T.K. said as he settled on the edge of the bed next to him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m pretty sure having to be carried to your own bed in your underwear by your boyfriend and his teammates is embarrassment worthy,” Carlos said.

His voice still sounded rough and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Just looking at him made T.K.’s heart hurt. He wanted nothing more than to take away every second of his pain from the last twenty four hours.

“They’re just glad you’re all right,” T.K. told him, knowing that was one hundred percent the case. His teammates were truly the best and had proved that once again tonight with the way they’d dropped everything to come to Carlos’ aid. “Besides, we’ve seen plenty of bodies in the field. That they got an eyeful of you…they’ve seen a lot worse. Trust me.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“Sorry,” T.K. said, rubbing his knee through the sheets. “I think you should try and eat something.”

Carlos grimaced. “My stomach still hurts.”

“But you haven’t thrown up in,” T.K. checked his watch, “thirty seven minutes. I think it’s worth a shot.”

He still looked hesitant. “Hey,” T.K. said. “I’m here now. I’m going to take care of you. What happened earlier won’t happen again, I promise. Just try? Please?”

He picked up the bowl and spoon, offering them to his boyfriend. Carlos reluctantly took hold, hands still not quite steady, so T.K. helped him hold it. He managed about a third of the bowl before handing the bowl back to T.K. “Happy?” he asked tiredly.

“I won’t be happy until you’re better,” T.K. told him.

Carlos nodded in agreement. “Me neither.”

“How does a bath sound, hm?” T.K. asked. “I’ll put in some essential oils, you can just relax and let some of today go.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Carlos said.

“I want to,” T.K. said. “Let me take care of you, okay? It makes me feel better too.”

“Okay,” Carlos relented. “Yes, a bath sounds good.”

T.K. leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Carlos spent about half an hour in the bathtub. T.K. used that time to change out of his uniform and do a little bit of cleaning and sanitizing in the bedroom and bathroom. He returned the soup bowl to the kitchen and started the dishwasher, gathering up a few things Carlos might need and then heading back upstairs.

Carlos was standing by his dresser, slowly pulling on a pair of sweatpants, clearly in discomfort. “Whoa,” T.K. set everything down quickly and then moved to stabilize him. “You should have called me.”

“I don’t like feeling helpless,” Carlos said, frustration lacing his tone.

“I know,” T.K. said, gently moving him back toward the bed. “But you’re going to get some sleep now and when you wake up I think you’re going to feel a lot better.”

“What if I feel like this forever?” Carlos asked miserably.

“You won’t,” T.K. smoothed a hand over his forehead. “Your captain called while I was downstairs. Apparently this bug has swept through your whole department. At least twenty people have called out sick and five have been hospitalized. You all got hit with a pretty violent stomach bug. But it seems like a forty-eight hour thing; most of them are on the mend.”

“Oh god,” Carlos said. “I should call him back.”

“I told him you were out of commission,” T.K. told him. “He said to feel better.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “No he didn’t.”

“Okay,” T.K. said. “Technically he said, ‘Nobody who’s barfed their guts out in the last day is allowed in the office without a doctor’s note.’ But I think the sentiment was the same.”

“That sounds about right.”

He grimaced as he settled under the covers. “Come here,” T.K. said, sliding in next to him and pulling his head into his lap, fingers running gently through his hair. “Close your eyes.”

Carlos did so, body relaxing into T.K.’s touch. “I love you,” T.K. said quietly. “So much.”

“How can you say that after you just cleaned up my vomit?” Carlos asked, eyes still closed.

“Because that’s what love is,” T.K. told him. “Love is being here with you. Through it all. Every day. For every moment. The good, the bad—“

“And the very ugly,” Carlos murmured.

“You’re far too pretty to be ugly,” T.K. assured him. “Even when you’re barfing.”

“Oh god stop,” Carlos moaned. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

“Go to sleep,” T.K. told him again. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. And I will happily clean up your blood, your sweat, your tears, and your puke every day for the rest of my life if I need to.”

Carlos cracked an eyelid. “I know you’re trying to be sweet, but that’s pretty disgusting.”

T.K. shrugged. “Like I said before, I’ve seen a LOT on calls. You can’t scare me off Carlos Reyes.”

Carlos closed his eyes and snuggled closer into T.K. “Good to know.”

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Sick Fic #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Sick Carlos #Hurt Carlos #Hurt/Comfort #The Good the Bad and the Very Ugly #Badass Paramedic Trio #Nancy is the sassmaster #And Tommy is calm #And T.K. is freaking out #Vomiting #Fever #I am doing a very bad job of getting myself a Bingo #I am all over the place

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itsallyscorner · 4 years

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Hi Ally! Can I request a seb x reader with an age gap where the reader is sick all the time and he's always taking cara of her doing everything in his power to make her feel better? Only if you're up for it. Thank youuu

Hellooo lovely! Thank you sm for the request, I appreciate it! Sick fics make me so soft, I have no idea why. I hope you like it!🥰

💌.

Doctor Stan

You had the worse immune system ever. You were healthy but when it came to your body defending yourself from a fever or the flu, your immune system was out the door. Literally everyone who knows you knew you were bound to get sick at any moment. Whether it was catching a fever, some sniffles, or a sore throat, you were going to catch something. Knowing that you could easily catch a cold, your friends and family were very protective and caring towards you. Especially your other half, Sebastian.

Even since you guys started dating, Sebastian was always there to take care of you. From staying over at your house to helping you go to the bathroom, he did everything in his power to make you feel better.

It started off as a sniffle. Did you think it would get worse? No, but knowing you, you should have. Earlier that day you and Sebastian decided to have breakfast at a cafe near your apartment and ended up going to Central Park for a nice stroll and some sightseeing. The weather was nice so instead of wearing a jacket you pulled on a light cardigan. When you guys got back home you decided to take a nap, tired from your guys’ morning outing.

You woke up with a pounding headache. You moved to stretch your body out but stopped when you felt your limbs aching. Turning over to check the time on your phone, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine as the covers slid down your back. Groaning, you realized that the sheets were moist with your sweat. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you moved to sit up so you can change into something more comfier.

“Baby, you’re up! I was thinking that we should go out for dinner tonight since the weather is—,” Sebastian stopped talking as soon as he saw you slouching on the bed rubbing your temples.

“Oh, honey. I told you to wear a jacket instead of that cardigan.” He softly scolded as he approached the bed to kneel in front of you. Looking up at you he could see a pout on your lips and your nose was scrunched up. He found your disheveled state adorable even if you were sick and had bed head.

“I know, but I thought my body could’ve taken it.” You grumbled as you wrapped your arms around you to stop the shivering. Sebastian immediately noticed and began to run his hands on your arms to generate some heat.

“Were you going to change?” He asked as he continued his motions. You nodded and moved to get up but was gently pushed back onto the bed by him.

“Stay here. I’ll get you some of my clothes and a rag to wipe you down.” He explained before pressing a kiss to your warm temple. Sebastian was already used to you getting sick and knew there was a routine. For comfort, one of the things you always wanted were his clothes. An oversized shirt and one of his sweatpants did the job with a pair of fluffy socks. He also wiped your body down with a rag to keep you warm and clean you up. The rag thing was something his mother used to do when he was sick and he remembered that he would somewhat feel a bit better after it. He also remembers your mom mentioning it when he asked her about ways he can help you when you were sick.

After he got some of his clothes out and a wet rag from the bathroom he found you cuddling his pillow and sleeping again. A small smile makes it way onto his lips but then he remembers the task at hand. He didn’t want to wake you up so he carefully wiped your forehead with the rag. He continues to remove your clothes, being careful to not expose your skin to the air so much. He moves quickly and soon you’re dressed in his clothes.

“We should tie your hair up.” He hums to himself as he goes through the nightstand for a hair tie. He grabs a comb and gently brushes your hair away from your face, gathering it together in a low pony. The action caused you to stir in your sleep.

“Sebby.” You whined nuzzling your cheek against his palm. Sebastian lovingly smiles down at you and runs his thumb across your cheek.

“Don’t worry înger, I got you.” He assured you as he strokes circles onto your back. His actions causing you to doze back to sleep.

“Thank you, Seb. I’m sorry I have a bad immune system.” He hears you mumble. Sebastian hates to see you sick, he doesn’t like that fact that you’re in pain and he can’t do anything but just try to mitigate your sickness. Though, he enjoys taking care of you and kind of babying you. He’s noticed that whenever you’re sick, you’re more needy towards him. For example, wanting to be held or just having him near you.

At first you weren’t comfortable cuddling him when you were sick because you didn’t want him to catch anything but he kept on insisting that he wants to cuddle.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’ll do this for you any day.” He pressed a kiss to your palm, you hand had lazily made its way to run through his hair and rest on his cheek.

“Always?”

“Always.”

Sebastian then picked you up bridal style and carried you out the room. You two ended up in the living room. Before you can settle down, he sat you on the couch and went to the closet. He pulled out a big and fluffy blanket and two pillows. He laid the pillows against the arm of the couch while you moved to settle against them.

“Comfy?” He asked before throwing the blanket over you. You wiggled a bit to make yourself comfortable against the pillows.

“Comfy.” You confirm with a slight nod. Sebastian proceeds to pull the blanket on top of you and makes sure to tuck you in like a burrito.

“I’m going to make some soup. Here’s the remote, turn some Netflix on or whatever, and just relax.” He hands you the remote and kisses your head. He makes his way to the kitchen and begins to prepare some soup for you. He got the recipe from your mother during one of your worse fevers. He was panicking most of the time and ended up calling your mom for help. She suggested making the soup and sent him the recipe. Till this day, the recipe was still in his notes on his phone. He’s memorized it but still referenced back to it every now and then to make sure he made it correctly.

While the soup was cooking he decided to throw the dirty sheets from the bed into the washer. He then replaced them with fresh sheets from the closet. He made the bed and walked back out to see you were watching Harry Potter.

“Is that Prisoner of Azkaban?” He asked as he leaned over the couch.

“Yup, want me to pause it so you can catch up?” You ask groggily.

“Mm, sure. The soup should be ready.” He says as he walks into the kitchen.

“Wait! Sebba can you get my phone? I think I left it in the bedroom?” Knowing you were going to ask for your phone, he fishes it out of the pocket of his sweatpants. “Here ya go.”

You thank him before he leaves the room. He turns the heat off the stove and gets a bowl for the soup. He gets a tray to put the bowl of soup on. Along with the soup he has a pack of crackers and a Gatorade. Since you get sick so often, you guys always had a stock of Gatorade in the fridge.

Sebastian returns with the tray and sets it on the coffee table. He helps you sit up properly, adjusting the pillows and blanket so they wouldn’t bother you. You press play on the remote resuming the movie. Sebastian sits on the edge of the couch beside your legs. He gets the soup and scoops some of it on the spoon.

“Seb, I can feed myself, you’ve done enough for me already.” You protest.

“No, I refuse to let you feed yourself. Plus the bowl might slip and I know we both don’t want a repeat of last time.” He reminded you. Last time you tried to feed yourself while you were sick, the bowl slipped from your hands causing the soup to spill all over you and the couch. You suffered from another headache and burning thighs, making your fever worse.

“Here comes the airplane.” He teases a cheeky grin on his face as he holds the spoon up to your face. You stifle a giggle and open your mouth. He had the bowl beneath your mouth to avoid any liquids falling onto you.

“Wow, you’ve really got that recipe down.” You complimented him after you took a sip of the soup.

“I had lots of practice. Thank your mom because if she never had sent me that recipe you’d be eating packaged soup.” He cringed as he continued to feed you.

“You know, she’d be proud that you’ve mastered the recipe.” You start. “Wanna know a fun fact about it?”

“The soup?” He asked, you hummed in response. He motioned for you to continue.

“The recipe’s been passed down for generations in my family. You’re the only person who isn’t blood related to us that knows it.” She stated. Sebastian settled the spoon in the bowl and looked at you.

“Really?” He asked a surprised look on his face. You nodded.

“Well, I’m honored to be part of something so important to your family. Thank you, iubirea mea. It really means a lot.” He confesses as he gazes into your eyes. You lovingly smile at him as he goes back to feeding you soup, though a smile was permanently on his lips the entire night.

The day ended in cuddles on the couch. After you ate and fully digested your food, Seb helped you to the bathroom. You guys settled on the couch for the night, Sebastian’s head on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your torso, limbs tangled with each other. You guys took turns sleeping as the movie played.

It was during Order of The Phoenix when you realized that Sebastian was your person. His head resting on your stomach as he softly snored against it. Your hands were tangled in his hair while you admired the relaxed state he was in. Sebastian did so much for you, not just when you were sick but in general. Whether it be something simple or something grand, he did it with his whole heart and because he genuinely cared. You knew he’d move mountains for you and you’d do the same for him. And when the time comes you’d be ready to take care of him just as much as he took care of you.

Înger ~ angel

Iubirea mea ~ my love

#ally’s requests #marvel #mcu #avengers #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan headcanons #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastan stan #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel cast x reader

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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 16: A Vicious Assault

Warnings: Bad Language words, some minor smut (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: As if we are 16 days in already. Only 8 more instalments left of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13 ‘s Real Life Task tales. In today’s episode, our poor reader has a cold…and it falls to Ransom to play Nurse…

Series Masterlist.

“How are you feeling?” Ransom asked, placing his hand on your forehead and you gave a groan, turning awkwardly onto your side on the sofa, head resting on the arm, your right hand laying feebly on your bump.

“How do I look like I feel?” You coughed, irritation lacing your tone and Ransom hesitated.

“Is that a trick question?”

“What?”

“Well, last time you asked me that and I said ‘like shit’ you slapped me.”

You blinked and then shrugged, he was right, you had. “No, it’s not a trick.” You coughed again.

“Well, if going off how you look is a measure then you must be feeling pretty bad.” He sighed, not an inch of teasing in his tone as his hand brushed down your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

“I can’t take anything thanks to you impregnating me.” You wheezed, sighing. “This sucks.”

“Why don’t you go back to bed?” Ransom suggested.

“I don’t wanna.” You pouted a little childishly “I’m sick of laying in there.”

With a sigh, Ransom settled on the sofa and guided your head onto his lap, his hand running through your hair. You knew he could tell how sick you felt with the lack of ‘whilst you’re down there’ quips he made.

“Try to get some rest, Princess.” His deep baritone was soft, his fingers running up and down the back of your neck in a soothing manner as you shifted a little, another cough wracking your chest and you let out a groan of frustration. But with Ransom comforting you and the warming heat of the fire, it wasn’t long before you were lulled into sleep.

****

Ransom felt Y/N’s shoulders relax and he glanced down to see his wife’s eyes were closed, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. He hated seeing his girl sick, she was normally the one soothing him when he was dying of man flu or SARS or some other horrific, tropical disease that he beat normally in a day or so of moaning like a bitch. But he was at a loss. She wouldn’t take Tylenol or anything else for that matter because she was pregnant so other than keep her supplied with water, cuddles and the occasional hot, sweet tea there wasn’t much…

Oh. Oh. Oh. Ransom Drysdale was a fucking genius.

With a little smile he gently lifted Y/N’s head from his lap, placing a cushion where his legs had been, before gently lowering her back down and quietly making his way out of the room, throwing one last glance over his shoulder. Closing the door to keep the heat in the lounge he pulled out his phone and walked into the kitchen.

“Ransom?” his mother’s voice was surprised on the other end of the phone. “Long time no speak.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, he couldn’t be fucked with listening to her moan about his lack of contact “Phones work both ways, Linda.” He drawled and smirked as she gave an annoyed tssk on the other end at his use of her name.

“What can I do for you? I mean I’m assuming that’s why you’ve called, you need something.”

“Not me, Y/N.” he clarified “She’s full of a bug and won’t take anything because of the baby but I was wondering, when I used to get sick and Grammy was around she used to give me a hot drink. What was in it?”

There was a pause and he heard his mom take a deep breath before she spoke again “Yeah, she used to give that to me, Walt and Neil too.” And whilst Ransom couldn’t see her, he could tell she was smiling “It’s just hot water, a good squeeze of lemon, a drop of honey, a tiny pinch of cayenne pepper-although that isn’t necessary, it just helps clear your nose- and a teaspoon of sugar, if needed. Depends how sweet Y/N takes her tea I suppose.”

Ransom crossed to the little blackboard on the wall in the kitchen that was used to list the shopping requirements on and quickly jotted it all down, reading it back to his mom. “Water, lemon, honey, pinch of cayenne and sugar. Got it.”

“Was that everything?”

“Yup.” He said simply, cutting the call without so much as a thank you or goodbye.

He set about looking for the ingredients, and was pleased to discover they had everything. There were a few fresh lemons and a bottle of lemon juice for when those were used up, a jar of honey, a little glass spice shaker of cayenne and even though the sugar bowl was empty he knew there was a replacement packet in the cupboard as he had unpacked the shopping that had been delivered a few days or so ago. He smirked as he remembered Y/N’s face when the truck had shown up, her hands on her hips as he’d turned to her smugly and informed her that she’d told him he needed to DO the grocery shopping, not that he needed to GO DO the Grocery shopping.

He loved loopholes.

Locating the sugar, which for some reason was contained in a clear plastic bag, he tore it opened and filled up the bowl before he headed back into the lounge to find Y/N was still fast asleep. Deciding that a nap wasn’t that bad an idea, after all he’d done a load of laundry, made the bed, cooked a passable attempt at eggs and toast for breakfast (Y/N assuring him the reason she hadn’t eaten a lot was because she felt like crap, not because it tasted bad) and cleared all the dishes, taking extra care to make sure no stray knives slashed his hand to pieces as he loaded the dishwasher.

Yup, he’d earned a rest.

Picking Y/N’s head up once more he placed the cushion against his thigh, his feet resting on the coffee table as he allowed her to sleep, his hand gently rubbing between her shoulder blades as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

**** “What is it?” you asked as he handed you the mug. You peered down at the floating slice of lemon, trying to spot what was in the drink. You’d normally take a sniff but seeing as your nostrils were at the moment about as much use as Donald Trump’s hair stylist you had to settle for using your eyes.

“It’s something my Grammy used to make for me when I was sick.” Ransom explained, sitting back next to you. You looked up and your heart fluttered a little at the boyish hope on his face. “You won’t take anything to help so I called mom to ask what was in that and-“

“You called your mom?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and you smiled, your hands curling around the mug even more now you knew exactly what he’d done to make you the hot drink, called his mother. Something you knew was a last resort for him, he’d rather stick pins in his eyes. “It’s just lemon, honey, sugar and a tiny pinch of cayenne. It used to work for us as kids.”

“Thank you.” You spoke softly, and you meant it. He smiled, leaning back on the sofa, eyes fixed on the TV as you took a sip, instantly gagging on the drink. You tried not to make it obvious as you took another sip but the liquid assaulted your taste-buds, quite literally, your mouth going instantly dry.

“Shit, Ransom, I…”

“What? Is there too much pepper?” his face fell and you shook your head.

“No, it’s salty!”

“Salty?” he frowned, taking the mug from you and dipping his finger into the liquid. He sucked it off and then gave a grimace, “I don’t understand though, I didn’t put any salt in.”

“Well, maybe something was cross contaminated from breakfast?” you offered and he shook his head as he set the offending drink on the coffee table.

“The kitchen is spotless, sweetheart. I cleared up after breakfast and wiped down the sides again after refilling the sugar bowl, even though I didn’t spill much.”

“Wait…” you stopped him, giving a little cough. “You filled up the sugar bowl?”

“Yeah.”

“What with?”

“Sugar.” He rolled his eyes.

“You can’t have, we’re out. It’s on the list for the top up shop as I forgot it the other day.”

“No, we have a packet.” He insisted, “I found it.”

“Was it a clear, plastic packet?”

“Yeah…”

“You dumbass!” you squeaked, breaking out into a hacking cough. “That’s salt!”

“Pretty sure it said sugar on the label, Princess.” Ransom rolled his eyes.

“Okay, go check.” You shrugged at him. He paused for a moment before he stood up and headed into the kitchen. You waited for it, and sure enough…

“Son of a bitch!” came the loud groan and you smirked to yourself, looking up as Ransom walked back into the lounge.

“In my defence,” he raised his hands, “they both begin with an S.”

“True.” You chuckled, as he picked up the mug peering into it, his shoulders slumped as he was crestfallen he’d failed.

“I just wanted to get you something to feel better.” He sighed and you took a deep breath.

“Babe.” You said softly and he looked at you, his blue eyes a little sad and you smiled. “I already feel loads better than I did before, but why don’t you make it again, leave the salt but add an extra little drop of honey. It will be more than sweet enough anyway, you know I don’t like tea when it’s too sweet.”

His lips curled up into a soft smile at one side. It wasn’t a smirk, or a smug grin, it was a genuine smile, one that always melted your heart.

“Sure.” He said, dropping a kiss to your head before he grabbed the mug and moved to leave the room.

“Oh and Ran?”

He paused and stopped in the doorway, looking at you questioningly.

“Empty the sugar bowl. I’d hate for anyone else to get a-salted.” You grinned, as Ransom arched an eyebrow at you “Geddit? Assault, a-salt…”

“Yeah, I get it Y/N.” he rolled his eyes, leaving the room as he shot over his shoulder “I just happen to think your jokes are about as funny as AIDS.”

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you

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kyber-crystal · 3 years

Note

I know it’s not sw BUT PLS

hc that benji is your bf and looks after you because you’re sick lol 👀

yes PLEASE

ok so i think it’s been established at this point that the imf shares one braincell

(and it’s usually ilsa who has it)

so those lil shits are always getting themselves into trouble

especially ethan

also you

but benji is genuinely worried for your safety sometimes

then again it’s part of the JOB so i mean,,,,

after a rough few nights in cannes you finally went up to paris and had the entire weekend to relax and have fun that’s when you suddenly came down with a bad cold

and you were miserable

you couldn’t even get out of bed

if you tried to your head would spin and you’d end up on the floor (this happened twice and it took so much energy to drag yourself back in between the covers)

so benji’s like

you know wHAt

“you can get shot twice—in the same spot, may i add! you can jump out of planes, sprint half a mile with a sprained ankle, take down a man with nothing but a napkin and your bare hands, survive car crashes, and make it out of crumbling, exploding buildings with your arms and legs still attached and you’re telling me the flu is going to kill you.”

“yes.”

“don’t you think you’re being a little too dramatic?”

“dramatic? ethan jumps out of planes for fun but is afraid of needles and you’re calling ME dramatic.”

ok so you made a POINT there

"i hate you. you're mean"

"you know you love me"

this lil SHIT

"i do."

"how about this. i'll order in some pasta for lunch, we can watch some tv, and relax."

"your weak ass can't even handle spicy food so don't make that same mistake you did in hong kong."

(you were referring when he accidentally ordered some noodles with a rather high spice level and spent the rest of the night chugging glass after glass of water and tying not to scream)

"i won't!"

he slid in next to you and gently nudged you. "scoot over."

"benji, you'll get sick." "i don't care. at least that means ethan won't force me to jump out of a plane again."

so you let yourself lean against him as you mindlessly watched whatever was on TV

you found yourself growing rather sleepy (also lightheaded) and were knocked out cold within minutes

the weight of your head against benji's chest was quite heavy but he didn't dare budge because omg look my girlfriend looks all soft and adorable and doesn't look like she's going to slit open a man's throat with a fork

eventually the food arrives and he forces you to sit up

after you finish eating he tries to give you medicine but you keep dodging it

"you have to take this or you're going to feel even worse tomorrow!" "no! that smells like shit!" "do you WANT to feel like shit then?"

you knew there was no use in arguing with benji esp when it was in regards to you & your well-being so you gave up and took the pills

"this tastes like SHIT. i just proved my point" "but you'll feel better in the morning!"

he laughed and just gave you a kiss on the top of your head before leaning back

"you're awesome," you mumbled while half asleep

"i know. i love you too"

again you were completely knocked out within a few minutes after consuming your lunch & medicine

i think ethan & ilsa returned to the apartment around 8 ish

and they opened the doors to discover you with half your body draped over benji as you snored softly

and benji, who was just as fast asleep

: ')

@kenobismullet ACK i hope this was what you were asking for :))) i'm so sorry this was super late andkskfkskfosldkdo but here is your hccccc

#yes PLEASE ok #benjiiiiiii #benji dunn x reader #benji dunn hc #benji is a soft lil simp and we been knew #mission impossible #benji dunn

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

Note

hey ummm... could u maybe do 59 w Zuko 🥺?? i <3 ur writing by the way!!!

prompt 59: kissing so desperately their body caves into the other person’s ___

“He’s a fool!”

“He’s learning”

“Well he’s terrible at it!”

There was a pause as Iroh debated on what to say to you now, but as he tilted his head to the side, regarding you with an awkward look on his face, he nodded.

“...yes…” He agreed slowly.

You let out a growl of frustration, before furiously kicking at the ground, sending a chunk of dirt and grass flying into the air. You looked like a child learning earthbending, if that child was an amateur, and if you had been born an earthbender.

“I can’t believe him!” You shouted, and began pacing in circles again.

Iroh sighs as you repeat the same actions and words that you had been for the past fifteen minutes now. Normally you weren’t so hotheaded, but no one brought this frustration out of you like Prince Zuko.

“Spirits I could just-! I could-! I could kill him if he wasn’t already dying!”

Your voice cracked as you threw your hands around, and finally, Iroh sees that you’re beginning to break. You’d been so angry, it was only a matter of time before what you were truly upset about shone through.

“Lady (y/n), why don’t we go inside? I’ll make you some tea” Iroh suggests, calm and collected as ever.

Sometimes, you didn’t know how he did it.

Zuko was a challenge, that had never been a secret. In all the time that you’d known him- which was literally your entire life- he had always been hot or cold.

Some days he was kind and charismatic, and honestly fun. You fell in love with him all over again on these days. In one of the villages you’d travelled through, there had been a festival, and he’d danced with you in the streets like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Other days, he was stoic, and cruel. He could have his guard up so high that he might not even look at you. You almost hated him on these days. When he would let his own greed and desire cloud his judgments, and his personality. He once went an entire day without speaking or looking at you.

You had challenged him to an Agni Kai, although you weren’t a firebender, just to get a reaction out of him.

This had not been amusing to him, however. He’d called you silly and immature for challenging someone of his status and power to a duel.

After that, you went three days without speaking to him. It had tortured him more than fighting you could have, and once you finally gave in and let him apologize, he swore to never treat you that way again.

Things were different now, though.

You weren’t on a Fire Nation ship anymore, and your travels to capture the Avatar had been put on hold, or so you’d assumed. Since coming to Ba Sing Se, Iroh had opened a tea shop that was doing spectacularly, and you and the man had happily rebuilt your new lives.

You couldn’t help but feel that the way you lived in the Earth Kingdom was how you were always meant to be. You were more happy living in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se than you ever had been living as a young noble in the Fire Nation.

Zuko did not share the same sentiment.

Nonetheless, you persuaded him into joining you on walks about the city, or trips to the market for groceries. He seemed to enjoy that a little more than working as a waiter in his Uncle’s shop.

And then, you’d convinced him to free the Avatar’s sky bison! You weren’t sure how you’d done it, you’d merely mentioned that Aang and the others might leave Ba Sing Se before they catch the three of you if they had the means to travel- that being Appa.

Last night, when he’d returned to the small apartment, his mask in hand and a torn look on his face, you weren’t sure if he’d gone through with it. He looked so distraught that you thought he’d given up.

But he told you and his Uncle that he had freed the animal, and you could have kissed him, you were so happy for him.

You could see him changing before you, for the better, and it made your heart swell with love and admiration. A hope filled you, that maybe Ba Sing Se would be where all of you could be your happiest.

That didn’t last.

This morning he’d woken up with the flu. He was sweating, shaking, he’d even thrown up once or twice. He was burning up inside and cold to the touch, and you’d worried to no end over his well being.

You weren’t afraid of some little sickness, Zuko was strong and could get past anything, but you quickly learned of how he’d come to be so ill, and any sense of concern flew out the window.

You left his side, tore your hands out of his, and stormed out of the apartment.

Now here you were, pacing around outside with Iroh trying to calm you down.

“I mean- who gets sick because of moral conflict?” You asked, stressfully running your hands through your hair.

You’d been wearing your hair down instead of in it’s usual Fire Nation style top knot, and you often found yourself repeating this anxious action. Especially when it came to Zuko.

“He’s different, Lady (y/n), you know this,” Iroh reminds you, folding his hands together. “But you know you can talk to him about this-”

“I know,” You grumble, and suddenly drop to the ground, sitting down and hanging your head in your hands. “I just- I just can’t believe that his intentions are so corrupt that he can’t do one simple good thing without his body shutting down on him. I hate him”

“No, you don’t,” Iroh says calmly. “You care too much, I’d say”

You look up at him, your eyes glossing over with tears, and your lip beginning to quiver.

Iroh smiles at you sadly, and as he walks past you, he kindly pats your head.

“I’ll give you some time to yourself,” He says. “You come in when you’re ready for that tea”

You nod back at him, and push your head into your hands while you try to stop your tears.

I should be angry, you tell yourself. Not crying, like a baby.

I can’t believe him. He’s so insufferable and he could be so cruel, and here I thought he’d changed for the better. How can he change if he gets a little cold every time he does one good thing?

Your tears keep flowing, whether they’re ones of heartbreak or irritation, you can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter because they don’t stop.

“(y/n)?” A familiar raspy voice calls, and you wished you had the energy to whirl around and punch him right in his perfect face.

You settle for giving him the middle finger over your shoulder.

Oh, if you had done that a year ago, you’d risk a death sentence.

“Uncle says you’re upset-”

“What gave him that idea?” You asked bitterly, and turned to look at him with a scowl.

He didn’t falter at the mean look, but he did weaken at the sight of you in tears. And despite your protests, he sat next to you.

Zuko still looked like a mess. He was pale, and his skin was glistening with sweat, but he still had a blanket wrapped around himself to keep away the chills. That didn’t stop him from shivering every few minutes.

“Zuko, I really don’t want to talk to you right now-”

“Fine, then don’t” He replied, ever so blunt.

You groaned, and realized you’d have to leave if you wanted privacy. So you moved to stand and go inside, but he stopped you, grabbing your hand, and pulling you back down next to him with ease.

Even when he was weak he was strong, you thought, and you scoffed.

“But I still need to talk to you” He told you.

“I don’t want that either” You bit back.

“What did I do to you?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Just last night we were fine, you- you were happy, you hugged me! I thought I did the right thing…?”

You stared at him blankly, before shaking your head at him.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. “Zuko, you’re a wreck,”

He didn’t need you to tell him that, but it still hurt a little from how venomous your words were.

“I mean, seriously, I have never seen you look shittier. And do you get why, Zuko?”

You didn’t give him time to try to answer.

“It’s because you’re so mentally conflicted on whether or not to be a good person, that it’s making you physically sick”

You shake your head and turn away from him so you can roughly wipe the tears off of your face. You hate that you’re crying in front of him, but at the same time, you don’t care anymore. You’re just so tired of all of this.

“And here I thought,” You mumbled, your voice weak and cracking from the tears in your throat. “Like an idiot, that we could actually be happy here. How can we be happy if you’re throwing up over it? Spirits, I can’t believe I’m still so naive”

“I’m sorry” Zuko mumbles, hanging his head.

Unknowingly, the conflict he’s facing only gets worse, because now he’s hurt you in the process, and it pains him to think he’s done something so awful that it’s brought you to tears.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” You cried, “I want you to want to be a good person, and you are, I know you are, I’ve seen it, you just- spirits you just make it so hard to love you sometimes,”

At that, Zuko perks back up, turning to look at you with wild swiftness, even though you’re sobbing and hanging your head in your hands. You probably haven’t even realized what you’d said in your state of despair.

“And I don’t know what to do!” You cried out, looking up at him. “I don’t know how to help you- if I can help you- and I just- mmph!”

Before you could continue on ranting at him, he’d leaned forward and kissed you, his clammy hands flying to your face to bring your lips to his roughly, like he couldn’t have possibly waited another second.

And as angry as you still were at him, you threw your arms around his neck, fervently kissing him back.

You were still crying, your salty tears slipping between our mouths, but neither of you cared. In that moment, all you cared about was being as close to him as physically possible.

His wool blanket fell off his shoulders and suddenly you were pressed into his almost uncomfortably hot and sweaty chest, and yet, you couldn’t have cared less.

He was here, he was finally kissing you after years of anticipation for someone to make the first move.

You were all but in his lap when you finally parted, panting, your wide eyes meeting his with shock.

“I do want to be better,” He says, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face as he whispers to you. “And I do want us to be happy here”

“You do?” You ask, hopefully, your own hands reaching out to cup around his face.

Zuko nods, smiling faintly at you.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” He apologizes, bringing his forehead down to yours. “Please forgive me”

“I forgive you” You hum back.

“For the past three years,” He clarifies. “For dragging you around the world and wasting what was supposed to be the prime of your life”

You chuckle, your thumb stroking around the edge of his scar, your eyes lovingly following the movement.

“I think that I followed you” You reminded him.

You were right of course, you had somewhat snuck onto the ship before his departure.

His lips quirked into a wider smile at the memory.

“Right, of course,” He murmurs. “How could I forget?”

“You were a busy man, Prince Zuko,” You hum teasingly. “Now come on, we should go inside and make you some tea before you get me sick, too”

You stand, taking his blanket before helping him up, and carefully wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like a cape.

“I love you too” He breathes out, and you pause for a moment, processing his words, before looking up at him with a brilliant smile.

You adjust the blanket, before standing on the tips of your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek.

Wordlessly, you take his hand and bring him with you inside. Your frustrations effectively melted away, replaced with a feeling of content and ease.

For the first time in a long time, you truly felt everything was okay. Even though nothing was alright in the world, you’d be just fine.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#atla #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko scenario

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. Day 16: A Vicious Assault

Warnings: Bad Language words, some minor smut (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: As if we are 16 days in already. Only 8 more instalments left of mine @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @ohthankevans13 ‘s Real Life Task tales. In today’s episode, our poor reader has a cold…and it falls to Ransom to play Nurse…

Series Masterlist