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kitswag · 3 months

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A little art about a headcanon of mine for Dragon and Sabo, and a little fanfic about it under the cut

"Dragon-san," a familiar voice, Sabo's voice came knocking from the door of the cluttered office. Dragon perked up, putting down the pen he's writing with- just a follow up rough plan for the revolutionary's next strike.

The door was opened and there was Sabo with a bleeding arm. Instinctively, Dragon reached for the cabinet on his desk, pulling it open to grab for a roll of bandages and a bottle of antiseptic.

Sabo sat in front of Dragon, reaching out his roughed-up arm, his face not showing a trace of pain. (Dragon always knew the surges beneath his mask anyways.)

Dragon sighed as he saw the gnarly wound on Sabo's arm. The boy had a knack on being risky, sometimes even too keen on self sacrifice. Even though being a revolutionary always costed a price, Dragon couldn't help but worry about Sabo's knacks.

"I got a little reckless with my plans, " Sabo offered a little charming smile to Dragon (cut out the reprimands just this time?)

"I always told you to be careful. You're too good to lose, " Dragon said (again, Sabo?).

Sabo offered another cheeky smile, "Next time," he said, as if Dragon never feared for his name written on the list of fallen revolutionaries in a mission report.

When Sabo first arrived in Baltigo, still wrapped with bandages all over, not even able to move his wounded limbs freely, he would only turn to Dragon to replace his bandages, any nurses who tried to replace it would only make him flinch violently.

Dragon tapped a cotton smeared with antiseptic liquid on his arm, following it up with the roll of bandages. Soon, after falling into the familiar act of wrapping Sabo's wounds, Dragon couldn't resist the nostalgia that went flying right to his head.

But of course, they understood (despite being concerned) , that Sabo was a child, a child that had no one familiar except for Dragon in an unfamiliar, new building far far away from his home island.

When his burns healed, and when he finally got to trust the nurses, it still became a habit. He would knock on Dragon's door or tug at his coat, show his wounds, and Dragon would pull out his cabinet and fish out a bottle of antiseptic liquid and some bandages. And there it was, a repeating pattern of tapping a cotton smeared with the antiseptic against Sabo's wounds and wrapping it up with soft bandages.

Dragon always thought of it as a comforting habit.

It was not rare that he would receive reports about his fallen men, people that had died for his own cause. And being here, bandaging Sabo, feeling the warmth of his skin, reminded Dragon that his Chief of Staff, his son, was still here, still alive. Still able to go knock on Dragon's office and offer a smile and a wound.

Sabo's small hiss of pain suddenly brought Dragon abruptly out of his daze. He softened his pace and grip, finishing wrapping Sabo's arm with tying the end, cutting the excess bandage with a small pair of scissors.

"Thank you, Dragon-san, " Sabo smiled, softly.

Dragon couldn't resist reaching his hand out and ruffling Sabo's hair, "Be careful next time," he warned.

Sabo's smile turned into a grin, "This time is just a slip up. "

Dragon couldn't help but smile back. Thin, but soft with fondness for his son sitting in front of him. He pulled his hand out of Sabo's locks of blonde and hope that tomorrow, his name wouldn't be written on the list of the fallen.

#phew that's a good writing warm up #a sweet headcanon i had #anyways dragon is sabo's father figure and i refuse to believe otherwise #btw fun fact when i wrote this my body was screaming at me DRINK WATER!!! 👉💧💧❗❗but i was so engrossed in writing this #that i actively ignored myself tying to keep myself alive #revolutionary sabo #one piece #one piece fanart #one piece art #one piece fanfiction #sabo headcanons #one piece headcanons #monkey d dragon #revolutionary dragon #op fanfic

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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years

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Hypothermia - Geralt of Rivia

My Masterlist.

angst, hurt/comfort, x gender neutral reader

Word count: 1.8k Warnings: symptoms of hypothermia(?), not proofread.

Summary: Stubbornly insisting to come with Geralt, Reader finds themself becoming hypothermic. They brush their symptoms off, but it's not long before it becomes severe and very, very dangerous.

"You should've stayed at the inn." Geralt muttered under his breath, tugging Roach along with him. His cloak bellowed out behind him as another chilling breeze swept against us.

"I can keep up with you." I huffed, tugging my own cloak tighter around my trembling frame. "Just keep going."

"You realize we're going to be making camp here soon?" He retorted.

"I was trying not to think about that." I mumbled, stumbling over my own feet. I pushed against the snow to get to my feet, grunting in surprise when what I thought was a rock or a log under the snow gave in on me. I stuck my arms out to brace my fall, but still ended up falling onto my face with a disgruntled noise. I saw Geralt offering his hand in the corner of my vision. Ignoring it, I staggered to my feet and brushed the snow off of my damp clothes. I could feel his sharp gaze on me.

The wind continued to yank at my cloak with relentless fingers, never giving up on trying to tear my only protection against the cold away from me. Even through the layers of clothing I had underneath it, I could still feel the cold chill me down to the bone. My teeth chattered, but I clenched my jaw the best I could to silence them. I grit my teeth at the deep pain that had begun to settle into my bones.

It wasn't long before the sun began to set on the horizon, taking what little bit of heat it had provided with it. I shivered violently, unable to feel my extremities. Despite the thick scarf I had eventually wrapped over my face and tucked into my hood, I still couldn't feel my nose. I thought of telling Geralt, but I convinced myself otherwise when the thought of being a burden began to gnaw at me.

I glanced up in confusion when I realized the witcher had been speaking to me. He looked to me with an irritated expression.

"What?" I asked slowly, finding it difficult to form the word in my mouth. I touched a gloved hand to the scarf covering my mouth in confusion

"We're staying here for the night." He repeated briskly. I nodded, my response delayed, and staggered off in a random direction.

"I'll get wood for the fire." I announced, noticing him begin to hollow out a small patch of snow for a fire. He was pitching a single tent as I left; It only made sense to share any heat we could.

I managed to gather enough small pieces to use as kindling, and I stumbled my way back to camp, constantly struggling against the confusion that had begun to creep into my brain. At one point, I found myself wandering off, as if just taking a stroll. I had thankfully realized before I got too far, but I killed too much time.

"He- Oh." I mumbled. He had already gotten the fire started, and was sitting beside it, warming some of our food. I plopped down beside the fire with a small sigh.

"Took you long enough." He muttered. I mumbled out an incoherent apology, pitching to the side. I curled into a ball beside the fire, damp clothes be damned. I let out a shaky breath, the pain crippling me. Despite his complaints earlier, he still offered me some of the food he had brought. I shook my head.

"I'm fine." I ground out.

"You need to eat, to keep yourself warm." He insisted, but he didn't push.

After a long while, like a light switch, the pain stopped. Just like that. I began to fall asleep, my eyes fluttering open when his hand met my shoulder a while later.. "Tent." He said simply. I pushed myself up into a half sitting position with a quiet huff. The side I had been laying on was completely wet, but my other side was dry. I pulled my cloak over the damp side, hoping to hide it from him so he wouldn't make me change. I was too exhausted. I chalked it up to being tired from the day's journey of plodding through the heavy, wet spring snow.

I folded myself down on my side of the tent. Turning away from Geralt, who had already laid down facing away from me, I tugged my gloves off. I frowned at the sight of my gray hands and fingers, suddenly aware that I couldn't feel them at all, nor could I feel my toes or feet, and a good amount of my arms and legs. My eyelids drooped, though, and so I curled up with a small shiver, heaving the spare fur on the ground between us over my half-soaked form. I let out a small sigh, drifting off.

Geralt frowned, listening to their heartbeat. It became fainter and fainter, even to his hearing, and he found himself unable to sleep. Once he was sure they were asleep, he turned to face them, laying under a bundle of furs, ominously still. He listened carefully, suddenly unable to hear their heartbeat. He carefully snuck a hand under the blankets and placed it on their chest, a jolt of fear hitting him when he could just barely feel the rise and fall of their chest as they breathed.

I tossed my head side to side in confusion, everything blurry. I was being shaken awake, and I struggled away from my attacker, disoriented. He kept speaking to me, his voice rising, and I flinched away. A lamp was lit, and I was now able to see his golden eyes reflecting the small flame. I sagged back onto the ground in relief, struggling to breathe and suddenly hot. I began to desperately kick the insulation off of me.

"Don't do that!" Geralt hissed, pulling them back over me.

"It's so hot." I mumbled incoherently, fighting him. I eventually gave up, curling into a small ball under the mountain of covers, and burrowing into them. My breaths were short and very, very shallow. Each one was like sucking in little ice shards. I tucked myself further into the furs, finding that although I felt like I was burning up, even that sensation seemed unimportant right now. My eyes drifted shut.

Geralt dug through the blankets to find me, giving me a harsh shake. I startled, forcing my eyes open. His hand gripped my soaked shoulder, and he cursed under his breath. I struggled to keep my eyes open, blearily Watchung as he hastily dug through his satchel, pulling out a small bottle.

"Drink." He ordered. I didn't protest, downing the contents of the vial as he tilted it up for me. It burned my throat, and I coughed painfully. Eventually, everything numbed, and the feverish heat that had been assaulting me before stopped, replaced by a more comfortable warmth. I felt the witcher pulling at my clothes before I drifted off.

The pain and nausea hit me as soon as I woke, and I was aware of the feeling that had begun to return to my frozen limbs. I shivered, tucking myself further into the warmth at my back with a labored sigh. I felt a warm arm snake around my waist, pulling me closer to Geralt. My mind was still foggy, and so I wasn’t in a hurry to shake him off. I shivered again. They became more insistent the longer I was awake, and soon I was trembling uncontrollably. My entire body was cool, but at least I could feel my limbs now, and I could feel the way my bare legs tangled with his. At the sudden realization, my face probably would have flushed if I weren’t so cold.

My head clearing, I wiggled against his grip, trying to put some distance between us and cling to what little bit of dignity I had left. I froze when I felt him shift, then stretch out his legs, disentangling them from mine. I was suddenly aware of how cold I was without his body heat, shivering even more and tugging the furs tighter around me.

“How are you feeling?” His voice, rough with exhaustion, asked. Embarrassed, I pulled the blanket snug against my bare skin, and turned to him.

“C-cold.” Was all I could rasp out before breaking off into a fit of coughs. He interrupted me with a jar of water. It was warm, and I downed it, sighing gratefully as it warmed me up from the inside. I held the still-warm glass in my hands, gripping onto it with fingers stiffened from the cold. “I’m better.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I’m alive.”

“You almost weren’t.” He said tautly.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come with you.” I apologized.

“You should have listened.”

“I’m sorry, I just..I wanted to help. I feel like I’m such a burden most of the time. I just slow you down - and that’s all I did. Again. Today.” I shrank into myself at his scolding.

“It’s not your fault.” His voice softened.

“No, I shouldn’t keep coming along if I can’t keep up. I’m sorry I keep forcing myself on you.”

“I want you with me, at all times. At least then, I know you’re safe.” He admitted. “But I can’t be selfish. You can’t withstand the same conditions I can, and that’s when I must leave you behind somewhere safe. But,” His eyes flickered up to mine, a small smile touching his lips. “You’re just so damn stubborn.”

I huffed lightly. “I know.”

“You need to tell me. When you’re feeling weird or sick. If you insist on coming with me no matter what, you can’t hide these things from me. I need you to promise me that.”

"I promise."

"I want you to mean it." He insisted, eyes pleading.

"I promise." I said sincerely, leaning forward to tentatively brush my lips against his; his confession having given me the courage to act.

He made a sort of purring sound, pulling me closer and molding his lips to mine. I sighed when he pulled away, breathless. His golden eyes flickered across my face, satisfaction dancing in them. I gave him a questioning glance.

"You're flushed." He explained. I didn't even notice that I had stopped shivering.

"I'm still cold." I hummed, half-lying.

"I can fix that." He didn't hesitate to bring his lips back to mine.

#i hate warm water #even room temperature water sucks #i do not condone drinking warm water #unless you're hypothermic I guess #the witcher #the witcher x reader #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #the witcher angst #the witcher hurt/comfort #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill angst #henry cavill hurt/comfort #x gender neutral reader

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