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cherri-cherri · 3 years

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× Little moments ×

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Pairings - Sukuna x Dying!Reader

Synopsis - Even with you gone, Sukuna remembers all of the memories of you.

Warnings - Story contains Character Death, possible misspelled words, cursing, and triggers to those who have encountered someone dying from a diseases such as cancer.

A/N: There was a headcanon that I just thought was too juicy to not try out where Sukuna had a lover but they were unfortunately lost to an sickness. So here we go, I hope you all enjoy it.

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It was always the little moments that counted when with the one you loved the most...

"Why do you not run, Woman?", a rough voice said behind her with a slight chuckle following in suit. Before the woman was the vision of death that would no doubt be burned into her mind for the rest of her life. Houses burning down into ashen shambles as the smell of burning flesh lingered in the air. Bodies littered the streets with crows hovering over the corpses for their next meal while screams and shouting could be heard from various survivors and victims caught in the destruction.

Yet as much as the sight of her village horrified her, nothing frightened the woman most than that of the sharp claws hovering over her throat, threatening to pierce into her flesh any moment now. "I said," she felt a small prick as the nail of the stranger's index finger slowly scratched the surface of her skin, "Why do you not run? Why do you not beg..?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, gasping a little but she did her best to not flinch in the man's grasp. "I-I'm doomed to die either way, dying here by your hand would mean no differently..so I am prepared to die", she said, closing her eyes as she braced herself for her untimely end. Hearing a guttural sound coming from the man, the woman was spun around to face him and her fears only grew worse.

Yes, the attack on the village could have possibly be that of bandits or a lone man causing chaos but this was no man. No..it was a monster. Four muscular arms, two faces attached to his head, a second mouth on his lower abdomen...This man was a beast, no..he was a curse. The king of curses, the terror of the land, Ryomen Sukuna.

Seeing the dread on her face, Sukuna let out a satisfied chuckle as he roughly gripped onto her chin. "You mean to tell me you don't fear death, woman?"

"No, no I fear it. I'm frightened of the thought— but I'm dying anyway. I have only a year's worse of time left before this sickness claims me, so what's the difference if it's by your hand or not.." she spoke honestly from the heart, surprising the man before her only a tad bit as she looked down to the gravel below. No one had a cure for her illness, there was no hope at all for it, even a few doctors had told her to prepare a grave in advance just in case her death came sooner than expected. It would be unfortunate but she had made peace with knowing the end was near. And so, she waited once more for whatever gruesome fate Sukuna had for her...only to hear,

"No."

"What?" She questioned, looking back up at the man who towered over her. "This will not be the day you die."

That was the first moment she had encountered the king of curses, the moment he had spared her life. Why he did, she never understood, yet after that faithful encounter, Sukuna always found her. Perhaps he visited her only out of boredom and figured today would be the day he would kill the woman, but no, he never did.

To Sukuna, Y/N was a curious case. At first, she was a mere game to him to keep him entertained for a bit or to gain a meal or two but the more he visited her, the closer he grew to the woman. She would always ask the same question whenever she saw him,

"Is today the day, Sukuna-Sama?" And she would always ask it with such a calm smile on her lips. It irritated him—no, annoyed him that she didn't fear the looming threat of death with each visit he made. What made it worse was how welcoming the girl was to him.

He came to learn things about Y/N. The first was that she was a firm believer in her worship. Even with the motor functions of her legs growing weaker and weaker by the day, the girl would try to make a daily trip to the local temple for prayer. Once, he caught her passed out on the steps to the temple and when questioning her on why she was so desperate to prey, the only answer he received was "It may seem stupid to you but I'm grateful for the life I have, even if it's so short. They've allowed air and life to see and hear and to be here with you..so paying my respects every day is just hope that maybe tomorrow, I get to see you again." And then she smiled to him. That same irritating damning smile...

It strung a place in his chest that he had not felt in a long time. A place he thought was long shriveled up and killed, yet she brought it out. He learned that she loved flowers. Coming to her home once to find her tending to her garden, looking surprised to see him only to greet him like always, cheerful dirt covered smile and all..."Welcome back, Sukuna-Sama. Is today the day?"

Eventually the garden withered away when Y/N couldn't even step through the front door. He saw how almost every day, she grew weaker and steadily weaker. Her beautiful skin slowly dulling away into a pale color, her hair once lush and fine as silk now fallen out and gone, her breaths slow and timid. But she always greeted him with that same way as always..

"Is today the day?"

"Is today the day, Sukuna-Sama"

"S-sukuna..Sama..."

He hated it. He hated that some frail woman was able to make him feel such pathetic feelings. He hated the fact that he grew attached to her and now seeing her slowly become nothing but a husk as every sun sets was growing unbearable.

There were days to where Y/N's condition grew worse, to where when Sukuna arrived to see her, she couldn't remember who he was. Her coughing fits had her spew blood onto her hands and her body ached in pain so much. She was not long for this world and he knew it...he knew it.

"Sukuna-Sama...please, please..." He was above her as she laid in her bed, his hand cover her left one as her right palm caressed his cheek gently "is today..t-the day..?"

His heart felt like it was slowly being grounded up into bits as he started into her eyes. He wanted to say no, he wanted for her to stay just a bit longer in his embrace and yet that wasn't possible. Not in her state. Lifting her hand up to his lips, Sukuna stood up from her knee as a sigh escaped his lips.

"Yes..Today is the day, Y/N."

And there was that same smile as always. Weakly stretching across her cheeks with no malice or anger, not even a single trace of regret. "Oh good...Finally...." closing her eyes, Y/N prepared herself for the end yet again but now knowing this time it would surely come. As Sukuna's nails extended a bit, preparing to end the woman, he heard her last words and froze.

"Thank you, Sukuna-Sama...thank you for these little moments..."

He sat there for God knows how long, staring at her corpse laying there peacefully on the bed with a gaping hole in her chest. Blood dribbled down Y/N's now cold and chapped lips, the warmth in her body now gone as well as the life that once flowed through the empty shell of a body. Resting below his feet was a heart, her heart, no longer pumping fresh blood through her body but instead laying motionless on the wooden floor. She was gone.

She was finally gone and yet this feeling remained. This horrible feeling in his own heart. Those memories of her were constantly playing on loop, over and over again with the same words in his mind.

'Is today the day, Sukuna-Sama'.

He screamed out her name. He yelled it for all to hear, anguish filling his soul entirely as he uttered her name. He cursed her. He screamed out her name so many times and cursed her for placing him through such hell. He cursed her..for being the woman he loved. The woman he grew to love and yet she would never know. Perhaps he truly didnt mean those words, but hoped by cursing her, Y/N would return.

That she would awaken in his arms and give him that same smile he came to love. But no, it wouldn't have been that simple. She wasn't coming back..she wasn't coming back....

A thousand years have gone by and yet those little moments echoed in his mind. As he stood before the grave of his true love in the body of his vessel, he remember those words he said to him before she gave her last breath–

'Thank you..'

"No. I should've thanked you, Y/N. Rest well..."

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[A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this. This is my first fanfic here on tumblr and well, I like it but I want more. I might make more following this concept of a lover of Sukuna, maybe even do little scenes that I wasnt able to add here in the fic.

I'm open for asks and requests of Characters from jjk like Sukuna, Gojou or Megumi to which I'll make a post about later. Feel free to Message me with any questions on it if you like or follow for an update down the line. Thank you guys and again and please like/reblog this. See you in the next fic -🍒]

#sukuna x reader #Ryomen Sukuna #Jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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lorei-writes · 3 years

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HC: Boyfriend

Premise: Suitors as Modern AU boyfriends. Request: @joyfulenthusiastwitch Character(s): Kenshin

This... This is honestly longer than I expected it to be.

Kenshin x Reader

Content Warnings: mention of mental illness, food mention

The two of you meeting was a complete accident... Or much rather, a series of miracles.

The first time you saw him, he was a construction worker. Dazzling, truly, and you could not comprehend what such a person was doing there... Yet he was busy, and so were you. You did not talk.

The second time? He was the cashier at a busy supermarket. Self-check out was unusually empty that day, and you chose it, happy that you’d be able to get home sooner. You only caught the glimpse of him, the line to his post being longer than to any other - and you wondered, for what bloody reason that could be.

The third? A waiter. He did not serve your table, though. Fourth? He was giving out flyers. Fifth? He walked an entire pack of dogs, they marched as if commanded to. Sixth? A tour guide.

Seven times the charms, apparently, as your seventh sighting of Kenshin was the one when you got to talk with him.

It was in a cafe, the man sitting alone at the table - or well, as alone as he could be in that moment, a person with a camera bending around him at all sorts of (weird) angles to get just the right shot... To no avail, it appeared, though, Kenshin appearing unusually bored with the entire ordeal.

You stared at them for a little bit too long, the photographer noticed you, somehow you could not say “no” to them (although perhaps there was not even a chance to say anything but “yes” in the first place), and mildly confused about the legality of this everything, you found yourself sitting opposite of Kenshin, the photographer demanding the two of you start talking. Immediately.

Awkward as it was, you did oblige to the request, Kenshin’s gaze softening a little. The shoot was over sooner than you anticipated, the photographer nearly disappearing into the thin air.

As to apologise for well, what you were put through, Kenshin offered to buy you a coffee and a piece of cake. You agreed. You ended up chatting some more - and then, as if by accident, met at the cafe again, and again, and again, each time being a new successful accident.

You were the one who suggested dating to him. It stunned you initially, as he... Didn’t give you an answer until a week later? He even appeared somewhat torn over the matter. It kinda shook your belief in the fact that you had some chemistry going on. Perhaps you were misinterpreting it all along? Even when he agreed, you couldn’t get it out of your mind.

As you’ve learnt later, once he felt safe enough to discuss the matter, he was simply afraid of how it would go. He briefed you on his history of mental illness and how he worried that the intrusive thoughts he had could get out of control.

You did not treat him in any way, as he insisted he would not burden you with that, but you could see that you and the relationship you had gave him a lot of motivation to fight hard.

You moved in together after several years. Your first apartment was very small, but also very cosy. You made sure to decorate some of it on the budget, with things you could make yourself.

That’s how the idea for your shared business first started. Apparently, you had a knack for managing social media - or so it appeared, given your Instagram statistics.

With his sense of esthetics and looks, your skills in management and photography, the two of you started a social media agency. Generally, you set up online stores for cafes, stores, small businesses, manage their instagram accounts, etc.

Despite not letting it on at first glance, Kenshin is a very sensitive and generous person. You could not count the times when you woke up, only to find the book you wanted to buy waiting on his side of the bed.

It also may happen sometimes that he’d come back home with a wild flower he found somewhere along his way, or perhaps a cup of your favourite coffee.

Eventually, you got a dog. Kenshin would always pout whenever the pet would get between the two of you. Well... You ended up having to sleep in the middle of the bed, Kenshin on one side and Ume on the other.

You might have photographed Kenshin multiple times, but your favourite shot is still from that one time when you came home late and found him sleeping on your side of the bed - you just couldn’t help yourself. (You might have even felt mildly guilty, had it not been for the fact that he agreed to such things, on the condition you show him the photo later).

You do not go out on dates much, at least not to the restaurants and such... But, if there is a chance, you pack up into your old car and drive with your dog somewhere outside the city, to just stroll through meadows and enjoy silence for a moment.

Ume wagged her tail in furious joy, fresh grasses and what not having already tangled themselves in her fur. The dog barked - once, twice, and then jumped up, her entire body trembling in excitement as she observed every movement of Kenshin’s arm. His muscles tightened and then relaxed, his grip over the stick having disappeared completely as the stick flew into the air, Ume already running after it. As if in reply, he shook his head, a faint laughter spilling out of his lips as he returned to his place by your side. “She’s never getting tired, is she?” he asked, knowing the answer all too well, the tip of the tail already getting closer to them. “Never,” you agreed absent-mindedly, your fingers working tirelessly to complete the project in your lap. “Ha! Done!” “Done?” “Done!” you exclaimed, placing the flower crown on top of his head. Kenshin blinked slowly - and then, his entire face lit up. It didn’t last long, however, Ume demanding him to entertain her stick-chasing needs yet once again.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @ikesenfangirl @mila-ikigai @cailann @fairstival If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

#kenshin uesugi #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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hiswhiteknight · 3 years

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Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 10

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1400

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obvious fighting and violence, mention of suicide

*I’ll be honest, this chapter is more of a fuller, substance chapter. If you wanted to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or chat. Thank you for everyone’s patience!

The hunt still left you plenty in your thoughts. It should be on helping in whatever way you can, but you kept thinking on your role here and how you clearly will never belong, no matter how to try to be kind and open to the culture, no matter how much you push away your own values and morals for these people. It will never matter. Rupert yelled your name, catching your attention. A man got hurt and you help mend what you can before instructing Rupert to bring him back to the village. Another scream, a different type of scream caused you to be pulled from you own thoughts of now and into the times of wartime. You charge to the scream, you found a man losing blood quickly, and a shot pulled you from your thoughts. The boar that did this must have been shot, “Mistress Y/L/N, am I going to die?”

All the pressure and anger you felt subsided, “Hold of Geordie, let me look at you,” several clansmen surrounded you. Dougal showed up to hold Geordie as you tried to patch up his leg. Dougal and him were exchanging words when you saw the wounds to his abdomen. Dougal made eye contact with you and you knew he knew what you were saying. You pulled off the tourniquet, and grabbed his hand, “Geordie, the pain is going to be go soon, but while we wait, I have a bet with Angus.” Geordie looked at you the way many men have looked at you before in the Marine. You had to bring him peace in the time of his panic, “I bet Angus that the colonies had more beautiful sites than Scotland. Tell me about your home, what’s it like?”

Georgie perked up as he told you about his home and you gripped his hand with all your might and continue to stroke his hair to help sooth him. And soon he was gone, you quickly got up and made your way to your horse. Before you knew what you were doing, you made your way to the castle. You needed some busy work, like stitching up the leg of the man who was also attacked by the boar. Afterwards, you walked outside to see the men playing field hockey, which you played for a few years in high school. This was far more barbaric, and you could see Dougal taking his rage out on Jamie. He could cope in anger, but if you did this, you would be gutted.

You wondered who would win in a fight and you had no doubt Jamie would win. When you saw Dougal on the ground, a young girl from one of your lessons tugged on your arm, “Well hello Molly dear, you enjoying the gathering?” There is no reason to take your rage on children, they didn’t do anything wrong. Honestly, teaching them defense things and survival tactics was the most time you felt at peace, well except when you were with – never mind that thought.

“Aye mistress, very much,” you smile down at her, “I heard about your ill-wish and I know who made it. They did not know it was intended for you when they gave it to the girl.”

Guilt hit your chest again, someone was scared you were going to hurt them for being an accomplice. You were letting the harshness of one person hurt your relationship with the majority, “You know who put it under my bed?”

“Aye mistress,” she whispered, “You wouldn’t be telling my mother, would you? She wouldn’t be wanting me to get into others business.”

You bent down to her level, “Tell you what,” you pull out your coin bag with most of the money you made for yourself while staying here – your escape money, “I’ll tell your mother you helped me collect supplies for the gathering, which is why I paid you all this. And you tell me who put it under my bed?”

“Mistress, I don’t need your money. Girls aren’t allowed to learn the things you are teaching. You don’t deserve any ill-wishes. You’re lovely,” you smile up at her.

You pass her the bag, “You’ve earned it dear, I keep my word. Give me the name and the money is yours.”

“Laoghaire,” she whispered. You shot up, looking around completely shocked.

“Alrighty lass,” you pat her on the shoulder, “If you don’t mind, I have business to take care of.”

“Be careful, please,” she urged after you.

You had a hyper focus again, you intended to kick her ass, like you reported. And you found her socializing where most of the clan put up tent for the gathering. You passed Murtagh and Jamie, taking off your sling bag off and your dagger from your waistband and handed it to one of them, “Murtagh, could you mind this for me?”

“I’m not your errand boy, lass, and where you going that you won’t need this,” he questioned.

“You’re a pretty face, Murtagh, you ask too many questions,” you sass to him, looking at your target. Jamie and him stopped leaning on a post, both putting their drinks down. They could clearly tell you mean business. “Hey, Laoghaire, you two faced, toxic bitch, I got your gift earlier and I would like show you my appreciation.”

She had the audacity to give you a glare, before she realized she was in real danger. She started to step backwards, and the crowd started to grow around you as you moved closer to the girl, “Leave me alone, wench.”

“Oh, you do have words now that you can use. I thought you might be too stupid to speak up and say something since you chose to instead use this voodoo bullshit to get at me. You want to bring me pain lady, let’s go at it,” you finally were within three feet of her. Before you could make a grab at her, she ran in another direction.

You were about to put your running skills to work, when Murtagh gripped your arm, “Come on lass, you made your point let’s get you back to the surgery.”

“You know what, I’m a little busy right now. But I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few, we can have some tea to cleanse our spirit, la de da and all,” you keep her in your eye sights. You were about to start your chase when you were tossed over a shoulder. Murtagh was carrying you back as you banged on his back. You were mad in this moment because you gave your dagger away to this meathead or he would have suffered from a few, no lethal jabs. He dropped you in the surgery room, “Damn it, Murtagh what the hell is wrong with you?”

“With me, you were about to put a big target on your back. You’re a guest here lass, they don’t take too kindly to guests attacking one of their kin,” he leaned against the counter.

You started to cry, and you usually do not cry, “Does it mean nothing I didn’t start it? Her action deserves a consequence. I watch all men here fight over nothing and here I am fighting against an injustice and my life is at danger. Do I not matter to anyone where? Should I just go to the tallest tower and jump?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, an ill wish is nothing,” he urged to you. He didn’t seem too phased by the fact you were crying, though he did soften his voice to show sympathy, “I know you don’t believe any of nonsense. You are a smart woman.” You started to toss things about the surgery, organizing all the stuff you brought out for the hunt. Murtagh walked over to you and stopped you by gripping the top of both your arms, “Y/N, you matter more than you know. Stop this behavior, you’ll get accustomed.”

“Murtagh, why do I always have to be the one to change? What do I have to do to feel like I belong here, how long will it take for people to believe I’m not an outsider?”

He took a deep breath again, “I know it doesn’t seem it now and I don’t know how, but you do belong here. It’ll come in time. Until then, stop picking fights.”

“Yes father,” you rolled your eyes, “Where is Jamie, I assume he has my bags and things?”

“Aye, right now he is taken care of Laoghaire, so you needed be worrying about her anymore,” he said, making his way to the stairs.

“Unless he has killed her and hid the body, I’ll keep to worry about her and her no good deeds, thank you,” you shouted at him. “And make sure Jamie brings back my things sooner rather than later.”

And before Jamie could drop off your things, Dougal Mackenzie came down to share you would be journeying out to collect rent from the clan who wasn’t able to make it.

PART 11

Taglist: @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher @lovesanimals @bilesxbilinskixlahey

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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A Darcy Day Off

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you will not work today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thagk you, mby love," he croaked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“heh-GIHH’CHOOOO! Hehht-kk’CHOOOOOF!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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amispnrewatch · 3 years

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SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

#SPN 1x06 #amispnrewatch #reclaiming spn #performing!dean #lawboy #bi!dean #dean x cassie #dean x lee #stiles stilinski #void!stiles #teen wolf #dean deserved better

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angelic-jeonghan1004 · 3 years

Text

ONEWE reaction to getting the silent treatment

Hi my lovelys I hope you are doing well <3 Okay so I got a few ONEWE requests so I thought Id drop the two reactions while my WEVE wait for me to get to their requests (Im going to post this then a Start of Snow update !!! Ill also drop some more TBZ content <3) sorry some are longer or shorter than others !!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: minor angst

Yonghoon

Okay

So I love this man an absurd amount

Like genuinely gonna give him the world no cap

That's besides the point I just felt like saying that

So there are two things about him that makes what he'd do a little unpredictable

Since he is both very mature and charming about things and would want to talk things through

But he's also %100 fake maknae big baby typa guy

So he'd either once given the silent treatment try to talk to you and solve everything

O r

Be sad boy hours to the max and like being pouty and sounding a bit whiney being like

"my loveeee please talk to meeee pleaseeee"

It's be very cute and you'd struggle to stay mad definitely

Since how can you when he's so🥺🥺🥺🥺

Harin

Once again I'm here to express the Harin big baby agenda

He'd go in for a hug and you wouldn't hug him back and he'd immediately lean back to give you a small glare

He'd probably go in for a kiss and then you'd doge it and boy would get so worried🥺🥺🥺

He'd immediately be like

"what's wrong?"

You'd continue to stay silent

And he'd figure you where mad at him but had no idea what to do so he just say on the couch and just watched you with the biggest pout

Once you came and sat next to him he immediately rested his hair on your shoulder

He could feel you relax

Even if you where still mad it just felt comfortable like that and you knew Harin was probably upset at your actions

Since you avoided him for so long

After explaining how you felt he quickly went to resolve things and go into an immediate cuddling session🥰

Kanghyun

Okay he is one of the few boys or the only one you'd have to go out of your way to interact with even though you are the one giving him the silent treatment

He had acted like he didn't know you at all or anything when you accidentally ran into him at the convention store

You knew it was probably so you wouldn't get in the lime light from fansites near by but it hurt

Not even a sweet look

Just blank(•_•)

So you where mad and headed home

When you got there you made yourself some food

Kanghyun finally getting home he put the bag on the table and went up to you with a back hug giving you a kiss on the cheek

"Hi baby what ya making?" He'd say putting his head on your shoulder

The acts where sweet but you where still upset so you stayed silent and continued to make your sandwich

"baby?" He'd say with concern in his voice

But you just stayed silent

He figured you'd just want to be alone so he'd go into his room and just wait for when you wanted to talk

Sooner than later even when angry at him you love being in his presence

So you quickly went to the bedroom to talk to him

After discussing it with him he'd definitely say sorry for making you upset and would give you kisses so don't worry(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Dongmyeong

Okay so if you go back or if you remember!!

My first ever fic I created when I wanted to try out writing (which was really bad don't read it but if you want to it's in the onewe Masterlist)

Was a Dongmyeong fic about the silent treatment

So full circle !! Wow !! My boy oh how I did not know that one fic would bring me here I didn't think anyone would read my stuff honestly-

But here we go let's get into this a "Give Me Attention 2.0" moment

So this boy we already know he's extra and loves affection

And with his s/o?? He's so softtt he loves hugging you and giving you kisses and asking about your day

Like he will look at you with the whole galaxy in his eyes when you speak

he is absolutely whipped no doubt about it

So when you give him the silent treatment because of an argument from the night before

He thought you both had gotten past it

But there you where making yourself a glass of tea and not responding to him when he says "Good morning~~~"

He went to wrap his arms around your waist but you wiggled out of his grip

He was NOT having it I tell you that

He already knew what was happening and he knows you don't go down without a fight so he was going to have too much time before he could cuddle up to you :'((

You'd sit at the table he'd be following you like a lost puppy with a pout on his face whining

You kept your guard up not letting him push past even if he is the cutest person you've ever seen

You're still mad

So you opt to just moving around the house it wasn't till you landed at the couch where you met with your demise

Since Dongmyeong had enough and he whined, he pouted he gave you puppy dog eyes and you didn't even reply to him talking with a simple good morning

So boy once he saw you on the couch he jumped on you and put all his body weight on you

Just pleading with you

"Pleaseeee love me, give me your attention, affection, just love meeeeee" he'd be dramatically saying as if he where in theatre class trying to get extra points

He didn't stop until you caved and wrapped your arms around his waist

Immediately happy boy

He'd start planting kisses all over your face

Since you deprived him of affection for so long he'd like the cuddles he's been held back from

He will be glued to you since that's what happens when the boy who wants attention from his s/o who won't give it to him

Cya

This boy

Is absurdly precious

But he ate the left overs you where planning on having for lunch today

Usually you didn't care since you always share food

But there wasn't much food at the house so you got yourself a meal you knew you'd enjoy so you where upset

Legit he didn't know

But could tell you where off

Since usually you'd wake him up or first thing your say to him was "Hello pretty boy" but on this day he was not called a pretty boy :((

He looked like a kicked puppy once he realized you where giving him the silent treatment

He had no idea what he did :'(((

He'd keep saying sorry

Oh my God was it hard to stay mad at him

Since how can you???

He's legit staring at you with basically this face exactly 🥺 asking you what's wrong saying he's sorry

Once you stopped with the silent treatment and explained omg he'd feel so bad

Legit he's give you the biggest hug

He understood how you felt

Pls he's get you lunch immediately

That would be on his mind for the rest of the week and you'd have to remind him it's okay now🥺🥺🥺

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hayleysstark · 3 years

Note

For your prompt event: Merlin accidentally hurting Arthur with his magic post-reveal and freaking out about it? (I love your writing!)

oh my god op YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!! im losign it,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Arthur had all of ten seconds to get out of range and, as it turned out, ten seconds wasn't nearly enough.

To tell the truth, he knew it was all his own fault—he hadn't tried or, at least, he hadn't tried hard enough, mostly because he didn't want to get out of range, he didn't want to run away, and he certainly didn't want to leave Merlin behind to face the mad old witch entirely on his own. For all his magic, for all his power and know-how and strange, old-soul wisdom, Merlin was a right idiot most of the time and, while Arthur trusted him to take down an obviously mediocre, middle-of-the-road sorceress alone, he most definitely did not trust him to be smart about it. He didn't trust Merlin to be smart about most things, come to that, but magical battles with evil sorcerers was settled firmly at the top of the list.

But it didn't do an ounce of good, because Arthur couldn't get near enough to land a blow on the old woman, and he couldn't even get near enough to watch Merlin's back like he should, like he usually did in these sorts of situations—the spells flew far too thick and fast around the quiet green grove, blinding bursts of color and light flashing like suns and stars in the deep shadows of the wood, curses rebounding like stray cannonballs off the trees and boulders and branches—no, he could only stand there, sword in his hand, out on the edge of the battle, completely useless.

All of a sudden, the old witch stopped, her wrinkled hands still held out in front of her, and she said something—it didn't sound like magic, it didn't sound like a spell, and it didn't look much like magic, either, it looked like she was talking to Merlin, like she was talking and she wanted him to talk back, but Arthur couldn't hear the words over the whispers and rustles of all the sorcery in the grove—and it must have been magic, he realized, hardly half a second later, because a high, howling wind whipped up, right in the middle of the forest, on a cloudless, sunny day.

She must be a bit better than mediocre, then, she must be a bit more than middle-of-the-road, if she could call up storms like Merlin could—

The wind picked up, stronger and stronger until the shriek of it was all Arthur could hear, until the force of it nearly ripped his cloak from his shoulders and clawed the sword from his hand, until it pushed him back, farther and farther away from the old witch, away from Merlin, until it finally grabbed him up in its screaming grip and slammed him, with a nasty crunch, back into the nearest tree.

As near as Arthur could figure out, from the flashes of blue sky rushing past over his head and the fleeting glimpses of Merlin's bone-white face and terrified blue eyes, he had come back 'round on the way back to the castle, but he hadn't stayed awake long enough to remember much, and Merlin had, apparently, defeated the old woman mere moments after Arthur had blacked out, but he never heard the whole of it, and Merlin never told him.

All he could say for certain was, when he had finally opened his eyes to find himself in Gaius' chambers, in the rickety white cot reserved solely for the very ill, the old man had forced him to choke down a vast number of horrible potions and medicines before he had allowed Arthur to settle back in his own bedchamber.

It had seemed an awful lot of fuss for nothing but a broken arm and a few bruised ribs, and, if he had to make a guess, he would say the whole thing had upset Merlin rather more than he had thought it would, and certainly a great deal more than it had any right to—the idiot had turned into the perfect servant in the week since, nothing but yes Sire or no Sire or let me get that for you, Sire, not one gripe or grumble or complaint to be had, and never more than ten steps from Arthur's bedside.

And he didn't make a face when Arthur told him to muck the stables, and he didn't breeze in to work a half hour too late Arthur's breakfast in one hand and a sheepish smile on his face, and he didn't throw the curtains wide and shout good morning like he wanted to wake the entire castle, and he hadn't spilled wine in Arthur's lap even once, and he hadn't used his magic to heat the bathwater, or scrub the floor, or make the bed, and Arthur's armor had literally never shined brighter, a dazzling silver gleam out of the corner of his eye, glinting and flashing in the light of the sun through the open window.

It was absolutely unbearable.

And it was obviously much more than the usual mother-hen impulses Merlin fell into when Arthur got hurt, because he certainly hadn't acted like this even when Arthur had gotten a bite from the Questing Beast, when Arthur had, very literally, cheated death, and survived the unsurvivable!

No, this was bigger than all Merlin's girlish little fits and frenzies of fear, this was more than his everyday panic over nothing, and Arthur was not going to put up with it one moment longer.

"All right," he said, eight days out from that fight in the forest with the old witch, his arm still wrapped firmly in a simple white sling, and the bruising on his ribs a touch lighter now, and certainly less painful, "out with it, Merlin, what is it? What's gotten into you lately?"

"Sorry?" Merlin said, flatly, and he didn't even look up from where he had crouched down to pick up all the dirty laundry scattered 'round the chamber. "Not sure what you mean."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin, you and I both know that suits you a bit too well."

"Yeah," Merlin said blandly, stuffing Arthur's brown trousers in his basket, "just one of my many gifts, Sire."

"Merlin," Arthur sat up a little in his seat, and put down his quill with a soft swish of the long white feather on parchment, "what's going on?"

"Nothing," Merlin said at once. He tossed a pair of socks in the basket, too. "It's nothing."

Arthur waited.

Merlin straightened up and turned his back on Arthur to pluck a red tunic up off the floor and plop it down in the basket with everything else.

Arthur waited a bit more.

All of a sudden, Merlin stopped, with the basket perched on the end of the bed, his hands still clinging to the wooden rim, and finally, Arthur thought, with a rush of relief, finally, he's going to stop being such a girl and just tell me—

Merlin sniffled.

Arthur's insides turned to ice. Oh, God, no, this was a mistake, this was a terrible, awful, horrendous mistake, and now Merlin was having feelings, and what if Merlin wanted to talk about those feelings, couldn't he just give Merlin the day off and let him sort it out on his own time, wasn't that a thing he could do, or would that be "insensitive" and "rude" the way Guinevere always told him, would that make him a "bad friend" the way Guinevere always told him—? "Um," he said, a little blankly, and a lot desperately, "y-you don't need to—you shouldn't—erm—"

"I—" Merlin wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and turned to look at Arthur, his eyes red and puffy, his cheeks sticky and stained with tears, "—I-I'm sorry."

"For crying?" Arthur said, rather weakly, and also rather hopefully.

"I should have said it sooner, but I thought you were going to—to bring it up, and I thought you were going to be angry, so I-I just waited and waited, but you didn't—"

Not for crying, then, Arthur concluded dismally, before he scraped up the last remnants of his dwindling-in-the-face-of-a-crying-Merlin courage. "Why on earth did you think I'd be angry with you?"

"I did this to you," Merlin said, looking for all the world like a deeply repentant puppy left out in the pouring rain, waiting to be kicked. "I hurt you. I-I used my magic to h-hurt you."

What? Arthur blinked a bit dazedly at Merlin while he waited for the words to make some sort of sense. "Hang on," he said, slowly, mostly to make sure he had this absolutely right, "you were the one who called up that wind? You were the one who—?"

Merlin blinked back, just as dazedly. "Y-You didn't know?"

"I thought it was the witch!" Arthur said, thoroughly baffled now. "What in God's name did you do that for? You never do storms unless it's—!"

"I got angry," Merlin said miserably. He sniffled again and wiped at his nose now. "I—I got so angry, she—she said some things that made me realize she was—she was somebody that had done really awful things, she had—she had hurt someone I know, she'd hurt her really badly, and I lost my temper, and—" he flicked a mournful glance up at Arthur from under his wet lashes, "—and it just happened, and Arthur, I'm so sorry!"

Arthur almost crumpled right back down in his seat again. Merlin had conjured up that wind, not the old witch, and oh, that made sense now, didn't it, he had thought, even then, the old woman hadn't seemed strong enough for magic like that, he had thought she hadn't had the power for a thing like that, and he had been right, and—

—and if she was so mediocre and middle-of-the-road, what on earth had she done in her past, to make Merlin so furious with her? "Is she—?" Arthur raised his head to look at his friend on the other side of the room. "Is she all right? The friend that the witch hurt? Is she all right now?"

Merlin stared blankly back at him, blue eyes wide and wet. "That's—?" he scrubbed at his nose again. "That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that I almost killed you?"

Arthur almost laughed. "It's a broken arm, Merlin, and it's not even my sword arm! Honestly, I hardly think I'm going to drop dead all because—"

"It's not funny," Merlin snapped, his every word sharp as a knife when it rolled off his tongue. "It's not funny, Arthur, this isn't a joke! I almost killed you! I almost killed you because I lost my temper! Because I lost control!"

"Yes," Arthur conceded, "but everyone loses their temper at some point, I wouldn't worry about it if I were—"

"Well, you're not me!" Merlin bit out. "And count yourself lucky on that, because when you lose your temper, you don't have to worry that you'll wipe out the entire kingdom, or—or level a whole forest, or put all your friends in danger just because you can't—!"

"M-Merlin," Arthur said, too startled to stay silent any longer, "of course you're not going to—"

"You don't know that!"

"No, I don't know that!" Arthur said sharply, a bitter burn of fury in the back of his throat, because what the hell was wrong with this idiot, why the hell couldn't he see—? "You're right, Merlin, I don't know that, I don't know for absolutely certain that you are never going to do something horrible, but I trust that you won't! I don't know, I can't tell the future, I'm not a Seer, but I trust you to do what's right and to never take it too far, and isn't that enough for you?"

For a moment that felt very much like forever, Merlin only looked at Arthur, his eyes still red, a few stray tears still trailing lazily down his wet cheeks. "But look at what I did to you," he whispered. "You can't honestly tell me you're not angry with me."

Arthur let out a soft, heavy sigh, and rubbed a hand down the side of his face. Yeah, sure, he was a bit put out, but mostly he was put out that he had gotten stuck in bed for three days straight, and that Merlin had decided to hedge around the problem for so long when he could have come to Arthur and told the truth straight-out, but it was like he had said to Merlin—everybody lost their temper now and then, it was hardly some sort of bone-deep sin Merlin had to atone for every day for the rest of his life.

"You can't honestly tell me," Merlin said, and even softer than a whisper now, softer than a breath, "that you're not scared of me."

Oh. Arthur's chest squeezed with something almost like pity. Oh, that's what this is, that's what he thinks, that's what he's so worried about— "Merlin," he said, and he meant it, "I'm not scared of you. There's nothing in you to be afraid of."

"Except the magic that could have broken your neck," Merlin snapped, voice high and tight and still thick with tears. "You don't have to pretend, Arthur, you don't have to put on some kind of front for me, I understand, I get it—"

"You can't swing a sword without almost impaling yourself on the blade," Arthur pointed out. "You can't go an entire day without tripping over your own boots and falling flat on your face. There's nothing in you to be afraid of, and trust me, I'm not flattering you when I say that."

Merlin stared at Arthur like he had never seen him before, his eyes enormous in his tear-streaked face, one hand halfway up to dry the damp trails on his cheeks again. "Y-You're not—?"

"For God's sake, no!" Arthur rolled his eyes. "One time, I heard you say sorry to a butterfly!"

"I startled her," Merlin said, at once, and scrubbed at his eyes again. "I hit the branch she was resting on with my elbow, and I startled her."

Arthur had to bite back a smile. "Yes, I'm absolutely terrified. Shaking in my boots, Merlin, please don't kill me with your evil temper and big bad sorcerer powers."

Merlin turned a little pink. "I'm sorry," he said, hoarsely. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, I picked up on that, believe it or not."

Merlin went a touch pinker, but he pushed on valiantly. "I-I didn't realize you were near enough to get hurt. I should have been more careful with you."

"Careful with me?" Arthur echoed incredulously, half-offended and half-amused. "Tell me, Merlin, how is it that I'm the one who got thrown into a tree, you're the one crying about it, and you still manage to make me sound like the delicate maiden in this situation?"

Merlin wiped at his nose again. "Should have known you'd be all right," he said, finally, and unless Arthur was very much mistaken, he could swear he saw a small smile tug at the edge of the idiot's lip. "Should have figured your thick skull would cushion the blow."

"Merlin—!"

#merlin #bbc merlin #fic #filled prompt #sweetteaanddragons #this is uh. bad. but on god we're posting it lads

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cpd5021 · 4 years

Text

Under the Weather

Sorry for the delay guys!! Happy Wednesday! (Thursday 🤦🏼‍♀️) Also, this is being posted from my phone because that’s what I’m working with at the moment. I’ll edit it’s appearance later when I can get on my computer.

Under the Weather

“Hailey…”

Jay’s singsong voice reaches my ears, seconds before a gentle hand grips my shoulder, giving it a soft nudge. I groan in response, feeling slightly disoriented as to why I’m seemingly half asleep and Jay is waking me up. I open my eyes and manage to pick my head up off the table I was laying against. A quick glance around the room tells me I’m in the break room, a half drank cup of coffee sits before me and I briefly remember making it. I look up at Jay who’s wearing a concerned look on his face as he sits down in the chair next to me, his hand still on my shoulder.

“Hey…”

I mumble weakly, my voice coming out hoarse from the sore throat that’s been developing all morning.

“Hey. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look awful.”

He sends me an apologetic look as I scoff at his words. I rub my hands across my face, trying to relieve some of the pressure I can feel building in my sinuses. My face feels hot and I’m not sure if it's from the short nap I just had or if I’m getting a fever.

“I kinda feel awful.”

I reply, groaning again when my throat protests an attempt at swallowing. I pick up the mug of coffee and take a sip, grimacing when the now cold liquid touches my lips. Jay takes the mug from my hand and stands to refill it with some fresh coffee. I send him a grateful smile as I carefully sip at the hot beverage.

“You should go home, get some rest.”

His voice sounds worried and honestly, it’s kind of cute.

“I’ll be fine. I can survive the rest of the day and then I’ll pass out tonight.”

I smirk at him, hoping he’ll buy my fake chipper attitude. He doesn’t, of course.

“Hailey...you already did pass out, in the break room.”

He half teased, but I could tell I wasn’t going to win this argument. I nodded solemnly and pushed myself away from the table.

“You’re probably right.”

I stood from my seat, setting my half drank coffee in the sink and turning to leave the room. Jay followed behind me with a smug look on his face. I turned to raise an eyebrow in question, only making his smirk deepen.

“You must be sick, Hailey Upton just said I was right!”

He teased and playfully bumped into my shoulder as we walked through the doorway.

“Shut up.”

I chuckled, shaking my head at his antics as I headed towards the locker room to grab my things. Once at my locker, I sat on the bench in front of it and let my head rest in my hands. I was feeling worse by the minute and at this point I wasn’t even sure I wanted to drive home. I reached up and shut my locker door and then laid back on the bench, pulling my jacket across my chest and over my face in a makeshift blanket. Just as I was about to welcome sleep, I heard the locker room door open. I peaked my head out from under my coat and was met with Jay’s disapproving stare.

“I’ll drive you home.”

He informed me, stepping closer to pull the coat off of me and then reaching a hand down to pull me back up. Once standing, he helped me slide the coat onto my arms and we headed back out into the bullpen.

“Woah girl, didn’t know The Walking Dead was casting in Chicago.”

Kevin teased after taking one look at my sullen appearance. Kim gave me a sympathetic look, annoyed by his teasing and Vanessa gave me a small wave from her desk, looking apologetic that she was stuck on the phone. Adam simply gave an “oof” as I walked by, earning him an eye roll on my part. We headed down the steps, hoping to avoid any other pleasantries from anyone taking in my appearance, but Platt didn’t let anything slip by her.

“What’s the matter goldie locks, can’t find the right bed?”

I simply raised my hand in a halfhearted wave, pursing my lips as we walked by. Once in Jay’s truck, I let my head slump back against the seat, already feeling sleep coming my way.

“Do you need to grab anything before you go home?”

Jay asked, starting the truck and pulling us out of the lot.

“No, I’m all set. Thanks though.”

I gave him a weak smile, keeping my eyes closed as I felt him accelerate.

“Soup? Medicine?”

He pushed, sounding worried once again.

“I just want my bed.”

I mumbled, eager to climb in between my sheets and sleep this illness away. The drive to my place seemed short, but that was probably because I may have passed out again on the way. Jay pulled into my driveway and hoped out from his seat. I watched his head come around the front of the truck and then he was pulling my door open and helping me down. He followed me up the steps, apparently not trusting me to not just fall asleep on my front porch and stood behind me as I fumbled with the keys. In my hazy state I managed to drop them onto the ground below. Before my body could respond, Jay was swooping down to get them and then using them to unlock my door, pushing it open and motioning for me to step inside.

“My hero…”

I mumbled teasingly, noting a slight blush creep onto his cheeks.

“Can you make it up the stairs?”

He nodded towards the staircase leading up to my bedroom and I smiled at the thought of him having to help me up the stairs. Maybe he could tuck me into bed or stay and lend me some extra body heat since I was suddenly freezing. But that wasn’t the sort of thing friends did and that’s what we were, friends. Before I could get myself in any trouble, I shook my head no to his question.

“I’m all set Jay, thanks for bringing me home.”

I sent him a smile which he quickly returned.

“If you need anything, let me know. Text when you wake up so I know you’re still alive.”

He made his way back out my door as he spoke, grabbing the handle to pull it shut.

“Har har.”

I replied, chuckling at his concern. He shut my door and I kicked my shoes off before clambering up the steps and padding down the hall to my bedroom. Once inside, I didn’t even bother to change out of my work clothes before I was collapsing onto the mattress and pulling the covers over me.

***********

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I fell instantly asleep earlier, but I awoke in total darkness and to the sound of my phone buzzing in the distance. At some point I must have laid it on the bed beside me. I flipped it over, cringing at the assault of light it brought, but smiled when I saw Jay’s name across the screen.

“Hey..”

I answered, cringing again at the sound of my voice.

“You sound better.”

He lied, causing me to laugh slightly.

“I feel a little better. I totally should have taken you up on the medicine and soup offer though.”

I shifted in the bed, moving to sit up against my head board with the blankets still pulled over my lap.

“I can bring you some.”

He replied, bringing another smile to my face at his kind gesture.

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll just order something or ravage the kitchen.”

He chuckled on the other end of the phone, almost sounding nervous when he spoke again.

“Too late, I already grabbed you some stuff.”

I smiled again, he really was the best friend a girl could have. Although, if I was being honest, I thought of him as more than just a friend.

“That’s awesome. Just ring the doorbell when you’re here and I’ll come let you in. I’m not sure if V’s home yet.”

I was totally out of touch and wasn’t even sure what time it was.

“She’s not, she went to Molly’s. Said she didn’t want to wake you and figured you could use the extra sleep.”

He answered confidently. I nodded into the empty room, thankful for my roommate's consideration. We ended our call and no sooner had I set my phone on the coffee table did someone ring my doorbell. I laughed out loud, realizing that Jay had been outside the entire time but hadn’t said anything and climbed out of bed, making my way downstairs. I pulled open my front door with a smile, receiving one from him in return as he held up two bags from the local grocery store. He stepped inside and I motioned for him to set the goods on the counter while I went upstairs to change into some sweatpants real quick. When I came back down I couldn’t help but be surprised at the spread on my counter. Jay had brought me two huge containers of soup, complete with my favorite crackers. A bag of cough drops and a bottle of cold medicine. A box of popsicles sat beside it all and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, he really had thought of everything. I pulled a bowl out of my cupboard and went to grab some of the soup while it was still hot, eagerly adding the crackers as I went. Jay watched from his spot against the other counter as I devoured the meal he had brought me. Once done with that, I moved over to the box of popsicles and pulled out one for each of us, earning an eye raise from him as he took the treat. I put the box in the freezer and then padded into the living room with Jay in tow.

“You don’t have to stay. I don’t want to get you sick.”

I offered, honestly hoping he wouldn’t leave.

“And miss the opportunity to eat popsicles and watch crappy tv? No way!”

He scoffed, eating the frozen treat. We fell into a silence as The Office theme song played across my living room. We watched a few episodes before I felt my exhaustion start to creep back in. My body also shivered slightly and I was sure I had a fever. Jay hopped up from the couch and went to get the cold medicine from my counter. I choked the dose down and then smiled when I saw him grab a blanket from my basket and lay it over me. I snuggled into the warm fabric, watching as Jay settled back onto his side of the couch. The blanket was warm but it still wasn’t enough to keep me from shivering. Jay noticed and gave me a hesitant look before he scooted over on the couch next to me. I didn’t say a word as he moved me forward and crawled into the space behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and pulling me back against him. He tucked the blanket around us and I melted into the heat he was providing. Any other time, neither one of us would have been this close, but right now I was thankful for his presence. I snuggled in closer to him, throwing all caution to the wind as the scent of his light cologne reached my nose. I could feel the medicine starting to take effect and between that and the exhaustion I couldn’t help but lose myself in the moment.

“My hero.”

I muttered again, repeating my earlier words as my eyes fluttered closed and my body finally stopped shivering. I let out a sigh as I let myself succumb to the sleep that I so desperately needed.

#chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead #halstead and upton #halstead #upton #jay x hailey #chicago pd fanfiction

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chryso0 · 3 years

Text

Some more thoughts about recent chapter....

As I have already talked about in a previous post (x) Alex is clearly the guy in this photo with the tie, but what we are actually seeing are two separate attacks. Sakazaki and his gaggle of goons outside with the smoke bomb. Vs Suited men in gas mask, inside using some kind of sleeping gas. What we are seeing is Asami rescue by Alex, on Maxim’s orders.

This is confirmed later when Maxim says :

The scene behind him is when Sakazaki threw the smoke gernade, from the outside - not the gas from Alex’s attack happening inside.

Now there are questions about how Sakazaki find out about where Asami was. To me this is not that surprising. He was outside the warehouse when it all went down and he might have stuck around and seen them leaving - to me it is more surprising that it took that long for him to find out where Asami was! It was only a matter of time honestly...

Sakazaki does seem generally surprised at seeing Akihito. But maybe he thought Asami would take him too? But maybe he also didn’t know anything about Akihito even being there?

For me this dual attack that we see happening almost simultaneously in the beginning, in a way may represent the dual problems that our protagonist are fighting in this new volume.

Sakazaki and Sudoh on one end, who I think are to blame for whatever happened to Akihito. Who also represent Asami’s present.

Meanwhile we have Maxim and potential even Asami Senior on the other side. Representing Asami’s past.

This is a really long post so if your interested keep reading 😊

Maxim is basically telling Asami to come back to the family organization and stop “playing around”. To them, the life Asami made in Japan, is nothing more than playtime. His business in Japan, being a powerful crime lord in the underworld is seen as small time compared to whatever Empire Maxim and their father have. They make it out as if Asami’s business its not even worth salvaging in anyway- just completely dump it and cut Asami off from this other world he lives in.

I get the feeling that Maxim and Asami Senior, see the random photographer that Asami sleeps with - as even less important that that. Although I think it’s BS when Maxim says he doesn’t know who Akihito is. I think they know, and they know he got kidnapped, and they know if Asami finds out he’ll “spring into action” (As Maxim says). I think they just don’t give a damn.

I also can’t see them going to such extremes to train Akihito to kill Asami. First. They don’t want to kill Asami, as they have kept him alive all this time and they want him back working for the family business, so what’s the purpose of turning Akihito against Asami?

I’ll give one potential theory, even though I have many theories and I am not particularly sold on any one theory but I do like this particular one:

Maybe training Akihito to attack Asami, is not actually about killing Asami, but about poisoning their relationship. In hopes that Asami will come back to the fold and to the family business. Something scary I’v been thinking is, what if Asami just goes on like auto pilot self preservation mode when Akihito draws the knife. And he ends up actually hurting or almost killing Akihito.

That line about his father MO, or treating his family like lion cubs - it really stikes me in this moment. What if they are training Aki to actually force Asami’s “killer instincts” to return.

It’s the ultimate betrayal. The lover Asami was willing to give his life too, the one he trust implicitly - turning against him. But it’s also the ULTIMATE TEST, if your Maxim and Asami's Father.

Will Asami die and fail, because he was too blinded by love to see that Akihito has changed? In which case he was never worthy.

Or will he come out victorious? Will his “killer/natural instinct” come to bear, the same instincts his father probably installed in him? Will the self-preservation kick in, and Asami does exactly what he’s been trained his whole life to do- his birthright. And his mentality of take no prisoners and destroys anyone that gets in his way. What if the plan is for him to actually kill Akihito, and then he’ll be ready to fully join in on the family business...

Certainly a scary prospect.

BUT I also feel like - that seems like SO extra.

Like just fuckin kill the dumb photographer, if you feel that strongly. You’ve had the opportunity to do that- and even the opportunity to make it look like he even died of his injuries after the warehouse. In which case, Asami might be broken and have nothing to lose anymore. If Akihito died, then there is nothing left for him in Japan. and you probably can bring him back into the fold.

There are easier ways to get rid of this problem. Asami was already sulking and being moody, he was already convinced that maybe Akihito was dead already and he was a lone surviver. Maxim was also clearly planning on holding him there for longer, but Asami got a hold of Alex’s gun and left much sooner than anticipated. What was Maxim really trying to do? Just wearing him down until he agrees? I dont think so...

But, there are also other things about what's happened to Akihito that I will likely make a separate post about.

Even though I gave this interesting theory. I am kind of of the mindset that. Actually Sakazaki and Sudoh are responsible for what's happened to Akihito

The lies Akihito told. The act he puts on. THE FUCKIN KNIFE. I don’t know. As much as I really like my theory. I am also like - it is also so obviously directly pointing to Sudoh as being a culprit.

What happened with Akihito was a deeply personal attack on both of them. It was meant to really inflict a lot of pain on both sides.

It wasn’t just about Asami. Or just about Akihito. Was it even about really killing Asami? Honestly, using Akihito to kill Asami is the WORST Assassination job I can possibly think of?

A photographer with no prior experience with weapons or combat- to kill a highly trained crime lord/ former mercenary/ son of the BIG BIG boss. Even if he’s weakened by a bullet wound. Akihito actually being successful in killing Asami, strikes me as always being considered a LONG SHOT.

Although it would be a nice extra perk for Sudoh and Sakazaki if they actually succeeded on that front.

And as much as I talk about these “dual force” there is also a third force- Alex

Where does he fit into all of this. I think some people jumped onto this bandwagon of Alex being the ultimate villain a little too quickly, because they saw him at the hospital and they thought he was related to the attack Sakazaki did on the hospital..

But we know now, that what we see in the beginning is a dual attack and Alex was part of the rescue, and not along side Sakazaki.

But I am not even sure about that... But the more I think about Alex. The more I he becomes such a unknown quantity in all this.

He has connections to Asami’s past- but I don’t really see him as being in the same realm of the “Maxim and Asami’s senior squad”, but do we know for sure he’s not in the “Sudoh and Sakazaki squad”?? It’s certainly suspicious. He is this kinda unknown 3rd quantity, and that in itself is super suspicious. He could be some where in the middle maybe? But I don’t know if he is evil or a threatening.

What proof is there that he is actually an enemy?

What is clear to me, is that I don’t think he wants to kill Asami. That is not his goal. for now at least, he might be up to something else.

But to me that ship has sailed. He’s had SO many an opportunity to kill Asami. At the hospital, when he is bedridden at Maxims, in the garden outside when Asami is walking with a cane- We know at that point Alex is armed and he knows Asami is not. He can’t be THAT afraid of Asami. And then he also had the opportunity the entire time they were heading towards Warsaw.

That doesn’t mean he’s not into something suspicious, or he’s involved in something else.

and I also just don’t see why Alex would use Akihito to kill Asami. When he’s had apple opportunity to end Asami himself. Again - using Akihito is the WORST possible assassination job I've ever heard of. If the goal was to kill Asami just do it yourself, my man.

I honestly don’t see any hostility towards Asami. His lines don’t have any of that kind of double meaning, or threat in them in the way that Maxim’s line do. i.e that ‘playing around’ line, and the “spring into action” line which can certainly be seen as Maxim *SLYLY* talking about Akihito. or that “you can do what you want....FOR NOW - Maxim is being kinda quite IMPLICIT about his threats and is making these suggestive hints that he knows more then what he says.

Now Lets do a visually comparison of Maxim Vs Alex:

I am not saying we should trust Alex because he happens to be smiling more, but I just don't get the same kinda Alarm Bells when i look at these pictures. (Except for maybe that bigger picture that in the right corner when Asami takes the cigarette from him, which ill talk about further down.)

But when compared to the Maxim- who has this very obvious THREATENING AURA in literally EVERY SINGLE panel we see him in... it just doesn’t compare. Usually these are faces Asami tends to make. But maybe it’s just an Asami family trait...

But I wanna get back to Alex, people have been using this scene of Alex and Maxim talking about the past, and Asami taking his cigarette. Perhaps they’ll point to the fact he used the phrase “Young master” or there is some jealous or attraction there. But I just wanna give a perhaps different interpretation of this scene:

Asami has been MOPING, he’s bedridden. He’s complaining about cats bothering him and waking him up. He is so visually upset about what has happened and it seems to be on his mind quite a lot. But he’s not acting like his usual self.

Look at him mooping. Clutching his blankets. Longingly staring out the window. Going on walks to contimpate life.

Even I was generally confused about these panels before the translation came out being like - what the HECK is Asami doing doesn’t he know Akihito’s in trouble??!?

Like who is this Asami, and what have you done with the real one??!?

He is really like a wounded animal here. He’s hurt and bedridden but its more than just the physical wounds. he’s so mentally deflated too. We are not used to seeing him like this. He is usually so confident, a man of action. But now it’s like he’s given up.

He even questions himself, “why am I laying in bed?” He knows that he is not himself right now. But he’s not strong mentally or physically enough to push back against his older brother. I wonder if that was always part of their sibling dynamic, back when Asami was younger and working with him.

But he takes the first step into doing something. He goes on a walk, which I imagine is the first time he’s done that, as when he runs into Alex, Alex expresses shock at him being up and about.

The two reminisce- I think it’s a interesting bit of detail that Alex seemed to not know that he was Asami seniors son- “the young master” line. It could potential be a lie but Asami seems to believe it’s true since it sounds like his father didn’t much acknowledge him. And the way Asami’s response about his dad, like wow his dad sounds like a DICK. Alex doesn’t disagree. That line “yeah I am surprised i work for maxim too” gives off a vibe that maybe something happened in the past- it makes me think he doesn't work for Asami’s father anymore, nor does Alex have particularly allegiance to Maxim.

Then we get to this cigarette scene.

To me I see this scene as being more about Asami then about Alex. That last panel- the changing wind. Asami is taking back control in this scene. And what better way for him to do that- then to get his quintessential cigarette. Asami with a cigarette in his mouth- it’s like the ultimate representative of Asami getting his groove back.

And not only that but him basically being a bit of a jerk about it. Like- “it’ll do”. This is Asami the big boss coming back, doling out the orders.

Yes the handing of the cigarette to Asami by dropping it in his mouth is suggestive- perhaps of a past relationship or something more then just a friendship. but it’s also a sign of fidelity, of loyalty. Of understanding who’s in charge...

Would we think anything of it if Kirishima lit Asami’s ciggarette?...

Whatever Maxim had planned for Asami it complete goes amiss when Alex comes into the field. A convenient fact. Asami’s uses his phone to call Kirishima and finds out about Akihito. They barge in to Maxim and Alexs gun is also conveniently taken, and comes in handy in convincing Maxim to let Asami finally leave. And then just as they are leaving, Akihito is conveniently found.

But some of this can also be simply explained by Asami making the most of the situation. He’s found his spine and he’s found someone who can make openings for him. He stands up to his brother finally. He is using Alex- the way old Asami would.

But also, could Alex’s intervention also mean whoever took Akihito had to release him earlier then expected- because Asami was on the move again. Maybe they thought they’d have more time to train him.

Akihitos sudden apparance at just the right time could mean that either Maxim or Alex is maybe involved. But could it also be that Kirishima has told people that Asami has called and he’s gonna look for Akihito - presumably he even asks/talks to fei long. Asami single call could have gotten the ball rolling on an investigation into finding Akihito again. And other people find out too.

There are so many potential storylines and I am just trying to keep an open mind about all of them.

#finder no hyouteki #you're my loveprize in viewfinder #takaba akihito #asami ryuichi #findertheories

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