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pillow-anime-talk · 9 months

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19. “I’m pregnant.” -samatoki- gentaro- ramuda🍭

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; romance; huge fluff; pregnancy; mention of pimples; kisses; soft!samatoki; sfw

includes: female reader ft. samatoki aohitsugi {hypmic}

author’s note: again! i choose the first person. thank you :D

19. “I’m pregnant.”

Two red lines on a tiny pregnancy test brought tears to your both eyes; you didn’t know yet whether they were tears of happiness or insecurity, but you felt strange; completely different, maybe a little too carefree. You wiped your reddened eyelids and puffy cheeks by hand, blew your nose on a piece of toilet paper, then put the test into your back pocket. You washed your hands, looking at your face all the time, noticing two pimples on your forehead and chin. You knew perfectly well that mental and physical changes during pregnancy would be bigger and more visible – sometimes pleasant, sometimes irritating and painful. The pimples were nothing invasive so far, but you felt sad.

With a different face, a visible tummy, much more weight, morning sickness and mood swings, will you still be charming, attractive, sweet and beautiful to your husband? Will you still be desired by him, will he still love you and appreciate your little and big things? Strange thoughts lingered in your mind for the rest of the day; you thought about your relationship while eating dinner alone, while watching an American movie on Netflix, during your night routine and long bath, and while making meal for you and Samatoki. The man should be here in less than a quarter of an hour – at least that’s what he wrote in the message to you.

You set out on two trays a bowl of warm soup, a bowl of white rice, a small plate of pickled cucumbers, seaweed salad, egg omelettes with peas, a few side dishes of fresh vegetables and hot tea in your favorite mugs. A typical Japanese supper was your daily routine, your intimate moment and time for quiet conversation. With the last element placed on the table, your beloved entered the apartment. As usual, he smelled of cigarette smoke, heavy perfume, the dampness and smog of the city. You flinched slightly at the smell, covering your mouth with your dominant hand. The other landed on your stomach.

“Baby?” Before you could say ‘Hi’, you ran to the bathroom. Another dose of nausea attacked your body, and you bent over the toilet, emptying your stomach. Samatoki ran up to you moments later, stroking your back and whispering in your ear that everything would be fine and that you were very brave. You wiped your mouth with a piece of soft toilet paper, then looked at your partner.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered, closing your eyes and waiting for any scream or anger from him. Nothing of the sort happened though, and instead the white-haired man kissed you on your slightly sweaty forehead, smiling slightly.

“Well, not surprising. We’ve had unprotected sex for over a month.” He chuckled and you only blushed even more. “Did you call to the doctor?”

“N-No... Not yet...” You muttered, and then another wave of dizziness hit you – this time with redoubled force. Samatoki stroked your neck until you felt better, then carried you to bed for a while and fed you with warm soup.

He seemed indifferent to the information about the child, although by the end of the evening you could see him looking at you with love in his eyes. You’ve also seen him smiling sweetly from time to time as he browses the internet and sites about parenting, kids and pregnancy.

And then, just before going to bed, he threw an almost full box of cigarettes into the trash.

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writing-promptsss · 24 days

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Prompt #19

"We cannot expect people to change. We always try to change them again and again, but yet we always fail to change ourselves. Most of the people don't care about our feelings, this is the sad reality of today. Many people are cold and apathetic. But what we can try to do is care less about what they think or do."

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kybercrystals94 · 6 months

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Flower Crowns

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 19|Prompt 19: Floral Bouquet

Rating: G

Words: 851

Summary: Wrecker helps Omega make a flower crown.

“Do you think we could make a flower crown?” Omega asks, plucking another blossom hanging low enough for her to reach from her perch on Wrecker’s shoulders.

“Sure, kid,” Wrecker says, “we’ll make you the prettiest flower crown in the galaxy.”

Omega laughs, handing the flower down for Wrecker to add to the floral bouquet he’s got in one fist, his other hand clutched around Omega’s ankle to keep her from toppling over while she reaches overhead. “Have you ever made a flower crown before?”

“Nah, but it can’t be harder than wiring an explosive,” Wrecker returns with a booming laugh. “Lot safer too.”

Omega giggles again, a sweet, melodic sound that makes Wrecker’s heart constrict with an emotion he didn’t even know he had in him until he met his little sister...a feathery light happiness that tries to burst out of him and fly away.

Another flower is passed down, and another and another. Wrecker takes a step every couple minutes, giving Omega new access to the bright pink and purple petaled blooms cascading from the wispy branches of a tree they found. While Hunter and Echo had gone into the village on a supply run, Tech, Wrecker and Omega went on a “nature walk,” as Omega called it. Tech preferred “research expedition,” and the two of them argued lightly over the merits of both titles. Ultimately, Omega won because Wrecker sided with her.

“You always side with Omega, regardless of the facts,” Tech complained, but his eyes betrayed the smile under his helmet.

“Only when she’s right,” Wrecker said.

Omega beamed. “And I am. Nature walk sounds nicer than research expedition.”

When they found the flowering tree, Omega immediately suggested making a bouquet of the flowers, saying they would look so beautiful in her gunner’s mount room. Tech ran a scan over one of the specimens and declared it safe to touch. He then promised he would show Omega how to dry the flowers so that she could save them later that evening.

“I am going to walk a little further on,” Tech said, looking down at his data pad. “Would you like me to meet you back here, or would you like to attempt to catch up to me?”

“I want to stay here,” Omega decided.

So, Tech walked on, promising to check in occasionally over comm, leaving Wrecker and Omega to gather her newfound treasures.

“I think we’ve got enough flowers to make a thousand flower crowns,” Wrecker exaggerates. The truth is, he can barely hold the bouquet in his hand without the risk of dropping some or crushing them at this point.

He feels Omega lean over his head to inspect their collection. “Hmm, we might have enough for nine hundred and ninety-nine,” she concedes.

Wrecker laughs and kneels so she can climb down from his shoulders. She takes the bundle of flowers in her arms, and they find a spot under the tree to begin the flower crown project.

Wrecker begins twisting the stems together like he would wire, folding and bending the ends together. Omega watches with wide eyed fascination for several minutes before making her own attempt. When her flowers refuse to be strung together, she drops them in her lap with a growl of frustration. “How do you make it look so easy?”

“Practice,” Wrecker says, winking his good eye at her.

Omega gives him a look. “You said you’ve never made a flower crown before.”

“No, but I’ve made plenty of explosives and Tech has me help him sometimes with the ship’s wiring. I guess twisting the stems like this is kinda like that. Just muscle memory.”

“Can you teach me?” Omega asks.

“‘Course I can,” Wrecker says. He pats the ground next to him, and Omega crawls over and leans into his side. Wrecker resumes his work on the flower crown, weaving new flowers and stems together with large but nimble fingers. He tries to slow down, exaggerate his movements.

Omega watches with adorable concentration, brow furrowed, mouth in a thin line.

“And we’ll tie it off like so,” Wrecker says, weaving the two ends of his flower chain together to create a halo. Turning, Wrecker holds the crown over Omega’s head. “M’lady,” he says and puts the crown over Omega’s blond locks.

Omega’s giggling smile absolutely melts his heart.

“Your turn,” he says, reaching out and picking up Omega’s abandoned project. “Let’s see what you learned.”

The second attempt goes better than the first; however, Omega’s flowers don’t hold together quite as well. She seems proud of her work nonetheless and stands up and drops the pink and purple thing on Wrecker’s head. “There. Now we match,” she says with a grin.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The Marauder is quiet. Echo has first watch; Hunter is finally asleep.

Wrecker climbs up into the gunner’s mount room. He sits on the floor and stares at the wall where Omega’s dried pink and purple flowers hang. The ones Tech helped her make that warm afternoon a lifetime ago, when everything felt almost perfect for the briefest of moments.

He misses that feathery light happiness.

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

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#whumptober 2023 #day 19 #prompt 19 #floral bouquet #star wars #the bad batch #star wars tbb #sw the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb tech #emotional whump #post season 2 #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fics by kyber

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hinacu-arts · 1 year

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Me: i am not writing this au

Also me: *creates a whole graph just to keep straight who calls who by what name*

rip me ive created backstories around why they call each other that. i made nickname lore. the ideas keep coming

#hinacu xover #dp x dc #prompt 19 #val talks to alfred like he's her bartender 😂 which is hilarious bc other than jazz she's the only one who tries for professionalism #fenton foley protection services

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 7 months

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Sicktember #19

Prompt: Curled Up With a Pet

Fandom/OCs: Priest ‘verse OCs (Luc and Flora)

Words: 2530

Sicknario inspo: 'Have you taken anything for that fever?' from this post and caught in the rain scenario from this post.

Author’s comments/background: Ah my sweet babies, in the honeymoon of their relationship. This is tooth rotting fluff, giving a new meaning to the idea of sickly sweet, but it’s definitely sickfic and easily one of my favorite things I wrote this year. Another prompt that just needed some characters to bring it to life, though, which made writing this easy. Enjoy the continued progression of Luc and Flora’s relationship. I set myself up perfectly for some romantic sickbed sex as the next chapter. We’ll see if I have the b*lls to write that, though.

~~~***~~~

The last week in June was always when Father Luc took his summer vacation. He had rented an isolated cabin by a lake in a different state this year, ensuring the lowest possible chance of meeting someone he knew, which enabled Flora to join him along with Charlotte, his golden retriever. The pair had been scheming and anticipating the trip for months. Days of uninterrupted time together, not having to hide or cover their whereabouts, was something they had only dreamed of. Now they would actually experience it.

The first few days of the trip were blissful. They spent hours basking in one another's company, talking about everything and nothing, elated not to be watching the clock or looking over their shoulder constantly. They ate every meal together, swam at all hours of the day, cuddled on the couch, stayed in bed for hours, explored and memorized every line and curve and expression and breath… perfection was the only word they could find to describe those first days.

Around midweek, though, Flora was going a little stir crazy. It was decided that she would run to the nearest town for a grocery run and some window shopping. Luc despised shopping of any variety, so he opted to stay back and go for a hike with Charlotte on the nearby paths. It would be their first time apart in days, and Flora felt a little strange leaving them in the rearview mirror. She felt almost exposed without the warmth of his solid presence only a touch away. She decided she wasn't going to linger long in town, not wanting to waste a single moment of the blessed week.

Luc, too, missed Flora the moment her car disappeared, but he had been looking forward to hiking since they'd gotten here. Flora was not an outdoors girl, though he knew she would've toughed it out just to please him, so he seized the opportunity to go while she was otherwise occupied.

In his eagerness to get a few miles under his boots, he didn't look at the weather before starting off, which proved to be a huge oversight. The first half of the hike was perfect. He set a challenging pace, but didn't push himself and eased up when he needed to, though he refrained from taking any long rests. Charlotte trotted along with him merrily, enjoying her investigations along the path but never straying far from his side.

The hour he'd set for his midway point arrived, and since he was feeling great, he decided to go just a bit further. The moment he made this decision, so it seemed, the rain clouds rolled in with frightening speed. Within minutes the first fat drops were falling. Luc groaned and turned around immediately, knowing it was probably too late. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes rain was falling steadily, surprisingly cold for the month of June. He had a cheap plastic rain poncho in his pack and he threw this on, knowing it would do little good in this, heavy, soaking rain. He tried to keep up the same pace, and even sped up where he could, but the path was steep and slippery in many places and he was forced to slow down for the sake of safety, so in the end he lost time. He avoided any injury, but he still slipped and fell more than once, and soon he was muddy on top of everything else. Any enjoyment he'd gotten from the first half of the walk was quashed by the cold, wet second half, and he was beyond relieved when the cabin appeared over the rise. Charlotte started running when she saw it, desperate to get somewhere dry, and he wasn't far behind.

Even though they returned almost forty-five minutes later than he intended, shockingly Flora hadn't returned either. He realized she was likely trying to wait out the rain, since driving in inclement weather made her anxious as it was, and this was unfamiliar territory to boot. Relieved not to have worried her, he toweled off himself and the dog, threw his filthy clothes in the wash, and hopped into a hot shower.

He felt worlds better when he emerged, except that the damp chill seemed to have settled in his bones. Donning a sweatshirt and sweatpants, he planted himself on the couch to await the return of his beloved.

About an hour after the rain had slowed to a drizzle, Luc heard the truck in the driveway. She had texted him when she was leaving town that she was on her way and that she'd picked up frozen pizzas for dinner, so he had the oven preheated and the pans ready. He waited just inside the door for her, and the moment she entered they collapsed into each other as if their absence had been months instead of hours, a hug so tight that neither knew where one of them ended and the other began. He breathed in the sweet scent of her, relishing the tickle of her hair against his neck.

"I don't know how I'll get used to not being able to touch you in public again," she murmured in his ear, echoing his thoughts exactly.

"We won't deal with that until we have to," he murmured back.

They continued with similar sweet nothings while they moved as one into the kitchen and got the pizzas into the oven, unable to keep eyes and hands away from one another.

"How was town?" he asked after a while, in the midst of making sweet iced tea to go with the pizza.

"Adorable. It's cliche, but the best word to describe it is quaint. They have little shops for everything. The grocery store was very overpriced, but they did have a lot of good stuff. I definitely splurged a little. How was your hike?"

He made a face. "Wet. Well, breathtaking at first. The trails are wonderful. But we got caught in the rain and got drenched before we could get home."

"I wondered why Charlie was looking all bedraggled. And why you chose to shower without me," she said, nudging her hip teasingly against his. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know you were really looking forward to that."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll get another chance before we leave. But next time I'll actually check the weather first."

The rest of the night passed similarly. The rain never stopped with only the intensity varying from hour to hour. After their first day out of the house in days, the pair was tired and spent a languid evening watching movies on the couch. Flora sat in Luc's lap, her head on his chest, with a blanket covering them both. Luc was thankful for all the extra warmth keeping him from shivering, since he still couldn't get warm. They both dozed off and on, but during one interlude between movies, Flora made Luc promise to take her out to lunch the next day and go with her to a bookstore cafe she'd seen for dessert. Because Luc's only objective for the whole week was to make Flora the happiest woman alive, of course he said yes.

~~~

In the wee hours of the next morning, Luc woke out of nowhere. Usually a hard sleeper, at first he was confused as to why he was awake, until he realized the pillow was unpleasantly wet under his face because apparently his nose was running. He gingerly lifted his head to find one nostril was completely clogged while the other was already tickling furiously, as if a dozen sneezes wanted to get out suddenly. He crept out of bed, careful not to disturb Flora. Charlotte raised her head to look at him from her bed on the floor, then laid back down with a huff of annoyance.

He tiptoed around the foot of the bed, scrubbing at his nose until it squelched which only served to make him want to sneeze more, and over to the ensuite bathroom. Once the bathroom door was shut behind him, he blew his nose several times, then finally gave in to stifle a smattering of fittish sneezes into a towel. Another round of nose blowing, which triggered a little coughing fit, and at last he felt better. Opening the bathroom door, he was startled to see Flora half sitting up, blinking at him in confusion.

"Are you okay?" she mumbled, fuzzy with sleep. "Heard you coughing."

He frowned. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'm fine. Just a tickle."

"Heard you sneezing too. Are you coming down with something?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little chill. All the rain yesterday and such. Nothing to worry about."

Flora nodded, already coasting back to sleep. She was out before he had gotten under the covers. Before he could settle, he again had to scrub at his nose and was annoyed to find that it was already feeling drippy. He laid down with a huff reminiscent of Charlotte's and closed his eyes. He too was asleep again in moments.

~~~

The couple slept in the next morning, as had been their habit this week. By late morning, though, Flora, more of a morning person than Luc, was flitting around like a butterfly getting ready while the priest hadn't yet managed to get out of bed.

"Why are you getting all dressed up?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"Because you promised to take me to lunch, silly! It's already brunch time as it is."

He ran a hand across his face, suppressing a groan. "Right, right. Okay, then I need to start getting ready too." He tried to keep his tone positive, but going into town was the last thing he wanted to do. Anything beyond moving from the bed to the couch was the last thing he wanted to do. But he could never disappoint Flora, not during their magical getaway. He was sluggish getting ready. His nose and throat still bothered him, his eyes felt puffy, and now he had the makings of a headache too. Yet he didn’t complain, smiled at Flora whenever he was near, and tried to act as if nothing was wrong.

He couldn’t hide anything from perceptive Flora, though. He hadn’t made much headway in getting ready, and had only just made it out of the shower when she stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. “Are you okay, Luc? You look pretty out of it.”

He sighed, choosing truth over a white lie. “I think that hike yesterday really took it out of me. I’m exhausted. Got the sniffles. Just really don’t feel great. But hey, I can still take you out to lunch, don’t worry. I want to make you happy and make the most of our time here."

Flora gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that to yourself. I can see in your eyes that you really don’t want to go out. You stay here and rest and hold down the fort. I’ll run up there and grab a book or two and some lunch and coffee to go for us. You don’t need to make yourself miserable for my sake.”

He chuckled softly. “I would never be miserable if I was with you. But if you’re sure, then I’ll take you up on that offer. I know you’re getting bored just hanging around here. And all I want to do is go back to sleep for a while. I promise I’ll be better company when you get back.”

“Especially if I bring you some caffeine,” she laughed. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll see you in a few hours, then. Enjoy your rest.”

“I’ll miss you the whole time,” he said softly. He hated that he would have to watch her drive away again, but knew he wouldn’t feel any better if he were with her in this case. It was for the best for him to stay here, so he could get himself into shape to enjoy her when she got back.

~~~

Flora was back by late afternoon with a bag full of books, and a bag full of takeout, plus a carrier of drinks. Luc wasn’t in the living room, and she had a strong sense of deja vu, recalling the official beginning of their romance when she nursed him though a horrible chest cold. She set the food in the kitchen and the books in the living room, then poked her head into the bedroom, smiling at the sight that greeted her.

Luc was wearing the same clothes he had been when she left, and it looked like he had turned around and laid down as soon as she was gone. He was on top of the bedspread, but covered in the blanket she always traveled with, snoring deeply and curled up in a “C” shape around Charlotte, who was also snoozing. Unlike the first time she had nursed him, though, she wasn’t about to let him sleep all day, not when they only had a few precious days left alone together. Plus, she was hungry, and she assumed he would be too.

She perched on the side of the bed and ran her hand up and down the length of his leg. When he didn’t stir, she tried gently shaking his arm. He shifted and mumbled, immediately scrubbing his nose, which she noted was an angry shade of red, into his shoulder with a snuffle. She went to brush the riot of dark curls away from his forehead, but frowned when her palm made contact with his skin. She shook his shoulder again, softly calling his name. His eyes flickered open and lit up upon seeing her. They shared a tiny smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead… Have you taken anything for that fever?” she asked softly, trying not to let worry color her tone too much.

“Fever?” he mumbled. “What fever?” Luc slowly sat up, rubbing a palm into one eye and sniffling, only to be wracked by a harsh shiver a moment later that made him hiss in discomfort.

“Oh no, are you cold?” Flora asked, though the answer seemed obvious, scooting closer to him and lifting her arm invitingly.

“Freezing,” he said, and she thought she heard his teeth start to chatter as he pulled her blanket closer around himself, then sagged against her with a sleepy yawn, his heated skin making the hair on her arms prickle. She simply sat and held him for a bit, weighing their options.

“Looks like I might be making another run into town,” Flora murmured. “I’m not sure how much medicine I brought. I think I just have Tylenol and Ibuprofen.”

“Don’t go again,” Luc mumbled, still half asleep against her. “I’ll be fine. I just want you here with me.”

Flora laughed softly. “If you insist. Your wish is my command.”

“All I wish is that we go watch more movies with coffee and dinner.”

“Call me Jeanne, then, because I think I can make that happen. As long as you promise you’ll take some medicine and not get any worse.”

“Your wish is my command,” Luc echoed sleepily, his dimple flickering in a smile.

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #priest 'verse ocs #prompt 19

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thedarknesssings · 7 months

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Prompt 19: Lost Chance

Prompt 19: Weal - FFxiv Write 2023 Characters: Kyllian, Antoinaux de Sombret. Content Warning: Physical injury, fire.

“Get back!”

The warning came a split second before a bullet lodged itself in the old, frozen wood of the barn’s wall near Kyllian’s head. The blowing snow obscured their vision, made the men they were chasing into shadows in the dimming light of day. Still, the machinist had alarmingly good aim for a man unable to see clearly.

A hand grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back around the corner of the barn. “Are you alright?” Concerned blue eyes peered through the visor of the helm the knight wore.

Kyllian nodded his head. “Yes, I’m fine. Missed me by ilms. Have you gotten a count on them yet? Three? More?”

Antoinaux’s concern lingered, his gaze searching Kyllian despite the assurances. “Three. The two swordsman and the machinist.”

“Where’s the mage? That’s who we want.” Kyllian exhaled a sharp breath and eased to the side, trying to see around the corner and maybe get Antoinaux’s attention back on their job. “He’s the ringleader.”

“Haven’t seen him since we gave chase.” The knight straightened and took a step back only when the handful of temple knights under his command crept out of the blowing snow to join them. “Well?”

“Chased them into the big house across the field. They’re holed up in there by the looks of it, sir.” The Coerthan accent of the man grated or maybe it was the slight nasally sound that irritated Kyllian.

“Good. Let’s get this arrest done.” Kyllian brushed his hands down the coat that marked him an inquisitor of the Tribunal. “Three of you go around back and find the rear entrance, the rest of us will go in the front. We’ll try to pincher them. Mind the gun.”

Their entrance through the farmhouse’s front door went a lot smoother and quieter than Kyllian liked. Antoinaux stayed on his heels and the two knights accompanying them flanked out to either side once they were inside. They could hear the other knights near the back of the house arguing with the frozen kitchen door, the iron bolts and hinges stuck fast. The sound of cracking wood resounded loudly down the hall. The rest of the house was deathly quiet.

“You two go up. We’ll find the basement.” Kyllian murmured.

The two knights nodded and snuck toward the stairs. Antoinaux followed Kyllian toward the kitchen, giving the knights coming through the broken door a circular gesture. They were to secure the main floor. Kyllian eased the door hiding the stairs down into the cellars open, his figure standing to one side so he’d not be an easy target of anyone below. No shots rang out. The damp smell of mold and neglect greeted them instead.

“That smells lovely.” Antoinaux griped. He stepped around Kyllian and started down the stairs, his sword held at the ready. His gaze flitted around him on high alert during his descent into the darkness.

“Probably old food stores rotting.” Kyllian mumbled back and kept close to Antoinaux’s back without risk of impeding his sword swing.

“Going to need a light.”

“It’ll make us a target.” Kyllian warned lowly, but relented as they reached the bottom of the steps. The darkness was nearly complete down here. “Bloody hells.”

He reached into the satchel he carried and dug out a small torch, the end of it enchanted to illuminate a significant area. A rather brilliant invention compared to the flickering fire of a traditional torch. Antoinaux took the torch from him the moment he turned it on, flashing the light this way and that. The cellar was empty.

Antoinaux cursed aloud. “Wait here. I’ll see if there’s a passage hidden or some other way out down here.” He squeezed Kyllian’s arm as if that might make him stay put.

Kyllian really had no choice when the knight crept away and took the torchlight with him. The creaking of the house above him alerted him to the movements of the knights upstairs doing their job of searching the rest of the house. The linkpearls remained quiet, so Kyllain figured they’d found nothing unusual.

He watched Antoinaux move through the cellar, nudging rotten barrels aside to check the stone walls behind them. Degrading sacks and crates crumbled apart when he dragged them aside. A gust of cold air rushed into the cellar the moment Antoinaux discovered what they were looking for. A small segment of the wall scraped open under the press of both of his hands. The scent of rot grew less pungent with the waft of fresh air.

“Think we found their way out. Want two of you to head down here to accompany us.” Antoinaux demanded into his linkpearl.

A pair of footsteps sounded behind Kyllian. The three of them followed Antoinaux into the tunnel the opening in the wall exposed. The journey was slow and painstaking, creeping down the length of a tunnel they couldn’t stand up straight in. They were forced into single file. Kyllian was glad to not be wearing their chainmail and plate, even if the knights proved incredibly agile in it. Antoinaux emerged from the tunnel first.

“The fucking barn?” Antoinaux’s exclamation perked up Kyllian’s eyebrows. They’d doubled back around. “We should’ve stayed put. Fuck.”

Kyllian climbed out of the hole in the ground, using a ladder that wasn’t the least bit compliant with any Ishgardian building codes he knew, not even the Brume. He stared at the open barn door and exhaled a sharp breath through his nose. Their quarry was likely long gone. Not that it stopped the knights from darting out the hanging barn door in hope. Kyllian ran a hand through his hair and turned to the side, gaze falling to the barn’s dirt floor.

“Bloody hells.” Kyllian turned back to gesture toward Antoinaux. “Can you even see them?” He started toward the knight waiting in the doorway.

The explosion devastated the back half of the barn in a split second. The blast knocked him clear off his feet about midway through the barn, sending him sprawling half-dazed to the ground. Fire erupted, swiftly melting the ice and eating into the old wood structure. Burning wooden projectiles shaken loose from the crumbling roof pelted down around Kyllian. His head struck the dirt and made his vision swim. The structure further collapsed. The big support beams cracked and splintered into smaller segments. The fragments thudded down around Kyllian, leaving dents in the dirt floor before falling on their sides.

“Kylli–” The roar in his ears drowned the scream of his name.

He lifted his arms up around his head and rolled to his side. A chunk of beam, its end made sharp as spears when it snapped in half, slammed into his leg and pinned him to the frozen ground. Pain erupted through him, the scream that tore from his throat sounded so far away. So dim. He rolled his head to the side, tears hot along his cheeks. The last thing he saw was Antoinaux held back by his knights, screaming his name.

#ffxiv write 2023 #prompt 19 #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers #elezen #ishgard #inquisitor #kyllian #this got longer than I thought #how he got his scar

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cadrenebula · 7 months

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Prompt #19: Weal

Lance smiled over the rim of his cup as he watched Ava and Jas playing nearby. Probably his favorite part of sitting outside here with Tara and Theo. Didn't mean he loved the twins any less than the kids. The Loches were family to him.

But watching the kids be happy and enjoying their time outside was always good. Something he looked forward to someday himself. Maybe with Kyna. He'd make sure to be a better father than his own had been.

First they had to deal with his mother. But he wasn't letting thoughts of her sour such a nice day. Or his cup of Ishgardian tea. Thanalan was still a bit too warm for his particular tastes most days but anything was better than the endless cold of Coerthas.

Eyes drifting up the hill towards the nearby free company house. Things might not be exactly where he'd expected them to be but he was content for now. Bran was watching over his brother. Alexois was keeping tabs on the shadier things his mother might be up to. Francel was busy with helping Ishgard rebuild. This rest to watch the kids was much earned.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 19 #Prompt Weal #About Lancefer #I'm too tired to make anything of depth today #Worked 8hrs and then had a 2hr work meeting after #Plus internet problems...#Just wanna play BG3 an relax at this point

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promptsbytaurie · 6 months

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prompt #19

The first thing you do after you run away is dye your hair pink.

#prompt 19 #writing prompt #you prompt

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selene-and-the-cold · 7 months

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Sicktember Prompt 19 – Curled Up With a Pet

Hello again. Today's little ficlet was inspired by Sicktember prompt 19: Curled Up With a Pet.

Fandom: OF/MD

Characters: Sick!Ed and fussing Stede with a side of grumpy Izzy.

No snz, so more of a general sickfic. Slight fever, a cough, and dubious medical treatments. And some sappy fluff, because apparently that's how I roll these days.

***

It was the year of our Lord 1717, and Blackbeard the scourge of the seven seas had come down with a cold.

Well, technically, Edward Teach had come down with a cold, which had put Blackbeard on an unprecedented hiatus. The hiatus was mainly forced on him by the Gentleman Pirate Stede Bonnet, who had insisted that Ed should rest.

It had taken some coaxing and well-meaning threads from Stede to get him that far, but now that Ed was resting comfortably in Stede's bed, a cool compress on his forehead, wrapped in a robe which smelled of Stede and lavender, and covered with layers upon layers of the finest blankets, while a steaming mug of tea with a tooth-rotting amount of sugar sat right next to him, Ed was grateful that he had been persuaded to take a break. Just like Ed had learned about the concept of „retirement“ from Stede, Stede had also introduced him to the term „sick leave“. A time of rest and recuperation for the illness-vexed body.

There was just one more thing missing for Ed to reach peak levels of comfort.

“Steeede? What's taking you so long, man?”

Calling out for Stede had not been the best idea, since it launched Edward into a chesty coughing fit.

“Just a second longer, Edward,” Stede replied from the other end of the room, where he was rummaging through his shelves and cabinets, fluttering from one spot to the next like an oversized butterfly. “I'll be with you before you can say 'Tell me where the loot is or you'll be skinned alive!'”

“Well, you just said it and you're not here, yet, so... “

“Psshh... I never had you down as the nit-picky type, Ed,” Stede waved Ed's objection away with his hand as if it were a pesky insect, his long, lacy cuffs dancing around his wrists. “You are quite moody when you're sick, aren't you?”

“Moody? No!,” Ed protested, crossing his arms in front of his chest, sounding decidedly moody as he did. Stede just shot him a look. “And besides, I'm not nitpicky. I'm a perfectionist. You don't achive my level of piracy and fuckery by doing things half-arsed.”

“Fair point,” Stede conceded as he approached, a vision of soft pastels, gold embroidery and white lace.

He was pushing a tea cart with ridiculously intricate gold-plated acanthus-carvings towards Edward. It was laden with various little bottles and vials of medicine and spirits, a stack of handkerchiefs, and books. The cart had been part of their latest loot from raiding a French ship and it was Stede's newest obsession. He loved pushing it around the captain's quarters to transport things, but in this case, it actually came in quite handy as an additional side-table for Ed's sickbed.

“What the hell is all of this stuff?”

“This,” Stede declared with a dramatic flourish, “is an assortment of things that will make you feel better in no time. Especially curated for you by me.”

Ed took a jar from the cart and peered into it, moving careful so the cool compress on his forehead would not slip. Inside of the jar were a bunch of leeches writhing and winding against the glass.

“Eww, come on Stede, you can't be serious! I hate those fuckers!” He hastily put the jar back down, staring at Stede in horror. “There's no way in hell I'll allow you to put one of those on me, man! I'd rather die than have my blood sucked out of me by some disgusting vampire snail!”

“Well alright, alright! No leeches,” Stede agreed and put the jar onto the lower shelf of the tea cart. “But perhaps I could interest you in this soothing balm for your chest..”

“Look, Stede,” Ed began softly, interrupting the blonde before he could rattle on about whatever ointment he was about to suggest, “I appreciate that you compiled all of that stuff to make me feel better, but I don't really need any of it.” As he spoke, Ed propped himself up on his elbows, taking off the cool cloth. His eyes were much more intense like this. Their vast, dark seas gazing at Stede, deep and mysterious like the ocean at midnight. “There's just one thing I need to make me feel better.”

“And what's that?,” Stede asked eagerly, curious blue eyes scanning the room to find the object in question before meeting Edward's eyes again, lips parted, muscles tensing in anticipation as Stede readied himself to go and get whatever Edward desired.

“It's you, you nut!,” Edward chuckled. “I need you. Right here next to me. That's all it takes to make me feel better.”

Stede's face glowed, his chest swelling with pride.

“Well, in that case...”

In one swift motion, Stede shrugged off his Jacket and kicked the shoes off his feet before he hopped onto the bed next to Edward. Their bodies met in a long, warm kiss, and soon the tea cart was forgotten as the two men melted into each other.

***

Some time later, Izzy made his way to the captain's cabin. He had not seen Edward all day and he did not like that his captain spent more and more of his time with the pompous colorful canary that was Stede Bonnet. Izzy could not allow that his cut-throat, menacing soul-as-black-as-hell Blackbeard fell more and more under the spell of the would be captain Bonnet.

Besides, the rest of Blackbeard's crew was itching to get news from their captain. It was all nice and dandy to spend some time aboard the Revenge, but it had been a while since their last raid and the men were itching for their next adventure.

“Edward?,” Izzy demanded, his voice as loud and assertive as his knock at Stede's door. “Edward, you need to come out, I need to talk to you!”

He was not getting a response, but Izzy was was tired of waiting, so he just opened the door and barged in – only to be aggressively shushed. Stede was sitting in bed, Ed's head resting peacefully in his lap, his body curled around Stede like a black cat.

“What the fuck?!”

“He's asleep,” Stede mouthed. “Come back later.”

“But...,” Izzy huffed, but Stede shooed him away with his hand.

“Not now!," Stede hissed, "We'll be up on deck AFTER Edward's rest.”

“Fine,” Izzy pressed out through gritted teeth, then turned on his heel and left for the main deck, his mood as dark as as a thundercloud.

“Where's the Captain?,” Fang asked as soon as Izzy set foot on deck.

“Below deck, curled up with his pet,” Izzy replied with a growl. “Stede fucking Bonnet!”

#of/md #sickfic #sicktember 2023 #prompt 19 #colds #mild fever #fluff #sick!Ed #and a silly interpretation of the prompt I could not resist

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tricksterfiction · 7 months

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Prompt #19 Weal

In which Sen just feels Sorry for Herself™️ Murphy's Law - Honey Revenge

"And Sensation is out!"

Hit after hit, she was back on her ass with a fat bloody nose. Every attempt she made to keep the chatty catte Renaux on his toes she had failed spectacularly - finally earning herself a knee to her face.

Gods did she hate getting her nose broken.

The night had wrapped up, she fixed her nose, trudged home covered in a thin layer of dusty disappointment and welts. Gio had been there to cheer her on but the weeks had been tumultuous and even Gin Mill nights were grasping at straws of some normalcy. It was malms away from being fun any more. After they got home Gio was off again to deal with some other emergency, another house fire to run into.

Tucked away in the bathroom alone with some proper lighting, she tugged at each cheek to check her eyes - bloodshot. Lifting her shirt probing her rib cage, stretching was painful and she found herself a hairline fracture. She made a face at herself in the mirror. Fingers rolling over the bumps, discovering one bruise after another.

Sen wanted to whine, stomp her feet, demand it all to be over and behind her. Healing even herself was so godsdamned exhausting now, it drained her! She pressed her forehead to the mirror sighing loudly. Aetherically patching the fracture leaving the rest for tomorrow, she dragged her sorry self into the shower.

Willing herself to believe that tomorrow was a new day and things would surely be different. Surely. Passing by her little corner of plant life, pulling herself to the top bunk of her bed to bury her head.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #weal #prompt 19 #honey revenge

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kay-elle-cee · 2 years

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Jilytober prompt 19: Worst memories.

Thank you for the prompts, @jilytoberfest!

Lily remembers her worst days by the weather. It was raining the first day Petunia had ridiculed her and called her a freak; sunny the day Lily had received her sister's letter requesting the witch cease any future communication. Clouds dappled the sky that day so long ago when Severus had called her a Mudblood in front of half the school.

It was the day of the first frost when they were told of the prophecy marking their infant son for death.

James remembers his worst days differently. He remembers them by the silence that fills the air around him in the immediate aftermath. The deafening silence ringing in his ears as he ran through the passageway beneath the Whomping Willow, desperate to save the futures of his friends and the life of his enemy. The eerie stillness that filled his childhood home the first time he visited after his parents' deaths, the ticking of the clock the only sound punctuating the silence.

The horrified, sickening silence that filled the room just weeks ago when Albus Dumbledore told them of Sybil Trelawney's prophecy. Harry's prophecy.

Today is another quiet morning, a gentle falling of snow accumulating on the window panes of Godric's Hollow. James and Lily stand in the doorway of their son's nursery and lean on one another for support as they watch his gentle, unbothered breathing.

They have a few hours before Dumbledore and Peter are to arrive, beginning their total isolation with the casting of the Fidelius Charm.

Their hearts are heavy, their tears run dry for the turn their already difficult life has taken. Never have they felt the call so strongly to fight for their world, for their child, but find themselves helplessly unable to do anything but hide.

Lily tightens her arm around James' hip, and he knows she worries not just about Harry but about himself, how isolation will be for someone like him. He never thought he'd be the type to go into hiding, but for his wife and his son, he'd erase himself from the world if he had to. With his wife and son, he knows there will at least be some sound—tiny laughs, absentminded hums—mixed in with the silence of the forthcoming months.

Today is the first of many quiet days in Godric's Hollow.

Other Jilytober drabbles here.

#kelsey writes #jily #jilytober #jilytober2022 #31 prompts #prompt 19 #drabbles #ficlets #played a little fast and loose with this one

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pillow-anime-talk · 9 months

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For your event fluff 19 for wing from HXH plz

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; romance; fluffy shit; pregnancy; zushi, gon and killua as sweethearts; sfw

includes: female reader ft. wing {hxh}

author’s note: thank you so much!

19. “I’m pregnant.”

Wing was a really great sensei, and his attitude towards little ones was really sweet and melted your thoughts every day. So the decision to have a child came quite naturally between the two of you, and you were really happy as soon as you found out that a new life was growing under your heart. Your husband was equally pleased and immensely proud. He thought about his smol bean and whether they would be a talented hunter in the future, or maybe an equally talented person who would like to work as a doctor, archaeologist or as a florist. Everything seemed so new and interesting to the young man.

Will he be a good father? Does ge take good care of you during pregnancy? Is he mature enough to own a little version of you two?

Many thoughts were running through Wing’s mind, and he almost jumped as soon as Killua snapped his fingers, asking his teacher if he was okay. The man only nodded, giving much more attention to his three pupils.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

It was evening, the hour was late, and the three boys and Wing had just finished their hours of training and a serious conversation about the next floors of the arena. At about the same time, the four of them heard the sound of loud knocking. Killua sensed no bloodlust, and Gon could only hear calmly beating heart... or even two hearts. Wing, on the other hand, opened the door and almost immediately smiled slightly under his breath at the sight of you with a huge basket filled with food.

“Good evening everyone.” You said towards Zushi, Gon and Killua and Wing of course, then stepped a little closer while your husband closed the oak door. “I’m Y/N, your sensei’s wife. Zushi already knows me. Right, ‘Shi-chan?” You looked at the little boy and he immediately bowed. Second later you quickly asked him to lift his head and just come to hug you.

“... My name is Gon!” The boy in the green jacket and short pants looked in your direction, and then you spread your arms out more so that he would hug you too. He gladly took your silent offer, then felt that your tummy was much harder than that of a normal human.

“I am Killua.” At first, he was not willing to show any feelings, but seeing your joyful eyes and sincere emotions on your whole face, he timidly came closer, lightly snuggling into your warm body. “Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked, looking at your belly covered with the material of a light dress. You giggled.

“I’m pregnant.” You answered. “But let’s not talk about me, because I brought you some goodies and dessert. Ah, and call me ‘auntie’ or something like that.” You added louder, taking out of your bag several boxes of still-warm rice, fried meat, various kinds of vegetables, as well as a paper-wrapped chocolate and strawberry cake you managed to buy on your way to where your husband was staying with his three boys.

Wing may be a good father because of his relation with children, but you will be the best mommy in the world because of your care, love and interest in other living beings.

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sterek-and-stuff-events · 10 months

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Mead Moons prompt: Solstice

Is there a mating run on the longest day of the year and Derek has from dawn until dusk to find his mate, who turns out to be a neither wolf nor human Stiles? Or is it his turn to host the national Alphas gathering, which happens to start on June 21st this year, and a mischievous party-crasher who smells of sunshine and fresh cut grass catches his attention?

Is Stiles attempting to escape from his vampire captors when he’ll have the most time to get away, but runs into werewolf Derek? Or is he a resourceful villager who isn’t going to let himself be sacrificed to the Beast in the forest without a fight?

Is the summer solstice when emissaries take their oaths and Derek is determined to get Stiles to choose his pack instead of another Alpha’s? Or is it the supernatural social event of the year and the scions of opposing Mage and Shifter families decide to put an end to the fighting in the most dramatic way possible?

Bring your stories to light!

Accepting new and unpublished fic, art, and playlists until July 31st. See here for more info.

#sterek #sterek events #sterek & stuff events #mead moons #mead moons solstice #teen wolf events #prompt 19 #random daily prompt

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lire-casander · 1 year

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#19 trying to make them laugh

trying to make them laugh original prompt list here

There are difficult days. Carlos already knew it, ever since he learned about TK’s journey. There would be, and there are, days when everything seems gray and dull, problems impossible to solve, mountains too high to be climbed. Carlos knows it. He’s prepared for those days when TK calls after a hard shift to let Carlos know that he’ll be late coming back home because he needs to stop for a meeting.

What he isn’t ready for is the days when he comes back home and finds TK lost deep in thought, staring at pictures of happier days when Gwyn was alive.

It’s not that TK is crying, because he’s not. Carlos is aware that, while he wil never get over losing his mother, TK has come to terms with the fact that she will never pick up his calls again.

It’s that TK is sad whenever he thinks of Gwyn. And he only takes this album out of its hidden place whenever he feels like he needs an outlet for all the sadness he feels sometimes. Carlos wishes there was something he could do to make it easier for his fiancé.

He knows there isn’t, but he can still try.

“Hey, babe,” he greets, sitting beside TK on the couch, careful not to bump the album TK’s holding in his hands.

“Hi,” TK greets back in a low voice. “I was feeling like I needed a trip down memory lane.”

“That’s not bad,” Carlos says, dropping a kiss on TK’s temple. “Remembering your mom is always a good thing. Which pictures are we looking at today?”

TK shows him the page he’s in; Carlos can see one photograph featuring a very young TK held by Gwyn. “How old were you in this picture? Three? Four?”

“I think I was three,” TK explains. “This is from the day she took me to the 152 for the first time.”

“You hadn’t been there before?” Carlos says. “I thought you’d gone to your father’s station almost since birth.”

“The 152 hadn’t been Dad’s first station in New York City. He’d been a Lieutenant at the 90 before getting transferred. The 152 was his whole life there from then on.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” TK sighs. “Mom had promised me we’d go to the carousel on Pier 62 afterwards. I really miss those days. I can’t believe it’s going to be a year since she left us.”

Carlos’ heart hurts as TK speaks. The anniversary of Gwyn’s passing is a date he’s marked on his calendar; he’s been bracin himself for that moment. Apparently, he should have prepared at least three weeks in advance.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” he begins. His hand finds its way up to TK’s face, and he cups TK’s cheek before brushing his fingers through his hair. “I can’t really start to imagine how hard this must be. But I can tell you that she’d have wanted you to be happy and to keep on living.”

“She would have wanted that,” TK agrees, his fingertip tracing the silhouette of his mother’s image. “She fought so hard for me to stay alive.”

"And I intend to follow in her footsteps," Carlos tells him. "Even if I have to carry you in my arms to the carousel at Pier 62.”

That elicits a sudden chuckle from TK, who looks up at him in disbelief. “I don’t know what surprises me, the fact that you’d carry me in your arms in public or the fact that you’d do it in New York City.”

“Haven’t you realized yet that I’d do anything for you?” Carlos says in a low voice. “Even embarrassing myself on a trip to New York City.”

TK laughs a little louder this time, closing the album. “Thanks for cheering me up a little. I needed it. I love you, you know that, right?”

Carlos smiles at him softly. “I know,” he says, winking at TK. “I love you too.”

#lire's 40 to the 40s #prompt 19 #prompt 19: trying to make them laugh #tarlos #tk strand/carlos reyes #carlos reyes/tk strand #911ls #911 ls #911 lone star #mentions of death

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years

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Whining/Crying

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #19

Fandom/OCs: MCU Avengers/ Sick!Natasha Romanov

Title: In the Mood

Words: 1423

Inspiration: This post about crying when waking up alone from @sickromancer

Author’s comments: This is another prompt that definitely wouldn’t have worked for me without the right character. I am generally not into whining or crying. But someone so tough and strong and independent breaking down and letting themselves be held and taken care of will never not be perfect. So, have some pathetic Natasha Romanov with a tender, loving Clint.

CW: Swearing, but not too much.

Being sick was actually the fucking worst, and Natasha was not in the mood. Somehow this damned flu had gone through every member of the Avengers (they were all suspecting alien involvement) until it finally caught up with her, though she'd done everything she could to avoid it, and now she was pissed at every single one of them. Bruce with his Hulk-sized sneezes, Tony with his germy hands all over everything, Thor coughing loud enough for the entire tower to hear for days, Steve sweating all over the training room even when he was half dead on his feet, and of course Clingy Clint, pressing his feverish face against her pitifully, no matter how many times she pushed him away. Her strict regimen of hand washing and taking every immunity vitamin known to man had failed her. She didn't know which one of her teammates had gotten her sick (though she had her suspicions), so she made it a problem for every single one of them.

To their credit, the guys took this quite well. She had played caregiver for all of them at one time or another (mostly from a distance recently), so they were happy to return the favor, even with a side of Natasha attitude. She whined about every little thing, from her headache to the temperature of the room to the volume of their talking. Several of them still had lingering symptoms, and she managed to complain about this, too. She didn’t like them coughing and sneezing around her, complaining that they were spreading their germs everywhere, even though it was already too late. Perhaps that was the point. Since it was already too late, she was going to complain all the harder about what had caused her sickness in the first place.

She knew she was being a bitch, but reining in her attitude was just too much effort in times like these. Ever since she’d been a tiny girl she hated being sick, hated showing weakness, and hated having to be taken care of, so she got irrationally angry whenever it happened. However, she didn’t like using her teammates as her punching bags, so after a few days she kept mostly to her suite alone. Only Clint came and went for sporadic bursts of company, as he was the only person she could tolerate for any length of time when her head hurt.

When he came to see her, though, they rarely talked. Mostly they just laid in bed together, with Clint rubbing her back or stroking her hair. Clint was extremely tactile when he was feeling poorly, so his caretaking style also tended to be more cuddly than anything else. Sometimes this annoyed Natasha, but at times, when symptoms were at their worst, it really was nice to curl up against a human pillow, and Clint was more than willing to oblige.

This is how they found themselves on the evening of the fourth day of Natasha's illness, curled up together in bed in her suite. Natasha's head was pillowed on Clint's chest, and she was being slowly lulled into a doze by his rhythmic breathing. Suddenly he spoke, startling her.

"Are your symptoms getting worse? How's your head, throat, everything?" he murmured.

"No noticeable change. I'm still miserable but that's my baseline currently. Why?"

"Think your fever's up is all. You're very warm," he said simply, stroking her hair. "And you've been quiet all day."

She huffed a sigh. "Figures. Honestly, I’m too exhausted to notice anything else. So I guess that makes sense."

“Then just sleep. You’ll feel better if you do,” he said, closing his own eyes.

“Mm,” she sighed, following suit as she burrowed deeper into the blanket covering both of them.

~~~

Fever dreams were the worst part about being sick for a person with a past like hers. Usually sleeping with Clint kept them at bay, but not this time. She flitted from dream to dream, each more horrible than the last.

At first she was running, and it seemed like she was running toward something. Her teammates. Someone was in trouble. Her lungs were burning, but she knew she couldn’t reach them in time. Then she realized she was passing her friends one by one as they looked on disinterestedly, and then it dawned on her– she wasn’t running toward, she was running away. Something was chasing her, and there was no hope of outrunning it. She could feel it getting closer, but she dared not turn to see what it was. The dream shifted again, and suddenly she was running through the woods all alone. It was too foggy to see what was ahead. Suddenly her foot was no longer touching the ground–she had run off the edge of a cliff. Time froze as she looked down into the fathomless depths below, and began to fall, slowly plummeting to her death.

She woke with a gasp, soaked in sweat. She was panting wildly, as if she’d actually been running. Her heart was thrumming out of control. The room was dark, and she was all alone.

She tried to steady her breathing, and get her bearings, but her mind would not still. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but it had to have been several hours, because it was dark outside, where it had been light when she nodded off, and this disoriented her even more. She felt like she was missing something, but she at first couldn’t place it. Then she realized: Clint was gone. He was here when she had fallen asleep, and now he had disappeared.

Tears began to prick her eyes against her will at this realization. It was just like the dream. Everyone had abandoned her. She wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself as she began to shiver, both from terror and bone-wracking chills as her sweat cooled. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The tears began to flow past her lids against her will.

“Clint?” she croaked, barely audible. “Where are you?” She cleared her throat with a grimace and tried again. “Clint?” she wavered, stronger but no less needy. “Clint, are you here?”

There was no answer. The dark corners of the room seemed to be encroaching very fast, but her legs were shaking too much to walk over to the light switch. Her nose was running in earnest now. She tried to sniffle, but her nasal passages were too inflamed. She wiped at the drips with her sleeve, still trying fruitlessly to breathe without gasping.

“Clint,”she gasped, covering her face with her hands as she began to sob freely but softly, shoulders shaking with effort. It was too much. She was so scared. So alone.

A strong arm enveloped her moments later, almost making her leap out of her skin. Clint pulled her close against himself, wrapping her in both arms. Realizing who it was, she pressed into him desperately, sobbing onto his chest.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he whispered over and over, rocking and holding her. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe, ‘Tash.”

Slowly, slowly she regained control. Even when she was quieter he continued to rock her, rubbing her back soothingly. At last she pulled away, but only because the state of her nose was now emergent. She used several tissues to blow and wipe, taking her time with this, and unable to meet Clint’s eyes.

“Sorry about your shirt,” she mumbled after a while. “That was… a lot.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Or explain. We all know how the dreams can be,” he said quietly. “It’s because your fever is so high. You should take something for it. And I brought you some fresh water, too.” He nodded to the pill bottles on her nightstand. She complied immediately. Meanwhile he turned on the lights in the room and tuned the stereo to a peaceful jazz station. She recognized the song, a quiet version of “In the Mood '' by the Glenn Miller Band, and she was immediately calmer. When she had swallowed a handful of medication, he lifted his arm wordlessly, and she slid under it without hesitation, pressing her face against him for a moment and breathing in his comforting smell.

“Thank you,” she said, almost too quietly to hear. Clint had managed to save her entire mood in a matter of moments. She knew she didn’t need to tell him this, though; he already knew.

His only reply was to secure his arm more tightly around her, pressing his lips to her hair.

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 19 #mcu avengers #everyone is hotter with a fever #sickfic

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chocoblep · 7 months

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#19: Boring

It had become an almost-nightly routine. When they closed up the shop for the day, Hinan and Rhuk would take a trip to the market if there was something they’d forgotten to get earlier that morning, and then return home to prepare dinner together. Often they chatted about this or that; remembering things that they had heard were happening from customers, recalling some stupid or cute thing that one of the koi did (probably Carrot or one of the Baby Carrots), voicing one thought or another that they’d forgotten to tell the other during the day. Hinan most often did that last one, because he often found himself with something on the tip of his tongue that he’d needed to tell Rhuk but forgotten everything but the knowledge that he needed to say it.

“You’ll remember later,” Rhuk always said, a hint of amusement on his face, and he was right. Later that night, like clockwork as they prepped their meal and his mind finally calmed, that thing would occur to him and he’d blurt it out and Rhuk would be so surprised at the suddenness of the statement that he’d usually laugh. They’d talk it over while they ate if the conversation spilled into dinner, but sometimes they ate in companionable silence, too, simply being close and letting themselves begin to unwind from the day.

Once their bellies were full, they would spend a little time relaxing, digesting, and doing something quiet. Maybe a puzzle or a game, or some solitary activity (Hinan had taken up origami recently in order to help keep his hands nimble, which had been a thing he’d struggled with since that fight where the haft of his axe had splintered into them). If they weren’t too tired once they felt they could do some strenuous activity, they would go outside and spar for a bit, which was mostly Hinan trying not to launch Rhuk into kingdom come and Rhuk working up a sweat as he practiced moves on him. Then it was bath time, and when they finally went to bed, sometimes Rhuk would read to Hinan out loud, as a way of practicing his reading skills. Often, bedtime activities led to a second bath, but that was neither here nor there.

They’d just gotten home, and were in the process of rolling out sushi when Hinan suddenly asked, “Are we boring, Rhuk?”

The Miqo’te turned to regard him, his expression a little confused. “Why do you ask that?”

Hinan shrugged his big shoulders, his eyes never leaving the sushi roll. “I don’t know, we do the same stuff every day. Haven’t changed it up in a while.”

Rhuk turned back to his roll, finishing off the inside and rolling it up. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he did so, and Hinan smiled at the little quirk.

“I don’t think that makes us boring. Predictable maybe, but we do a lot of fun stuff,” he said once he was done. “Besides, the couples that are boring are usually also old, so if we get boring, maybe that means that we got old and boring together? I’d be okay with that.”

“You wanna be old and boring with me?” Hinan asked, grinning.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

The words had him flushing, though it was hard to see against his naturally red skin. “I’d like that, too,” he murmured, and then added, “Not boring sex though, I still wanna wake up feeling all the scratches and bruises the next day.”

Rhuk almost dropped his freshly made roll as he transferred it to the plate as he burst into laughter. “That ain’t gonna be a problem.”

The next morning when Hinan woke up, he stretched and smiled, feeling every extra mark Rhuk had left on him the night before.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #Hinan Akaruta #Prompt 19 #Weal

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